‘Well,’ said Mr McCoy, ‘he got the idea, or so Emma tells me …’
‘… he’d mentioned the idea to me,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘and his “rules” as to how and when it was to be dug up …’
‘… and by who,’ said Mr McCoy, ‘you see, the time capsule was for …isfor … me.’
Mr McCoy seemed to be getting upset.
‘A thing that happened a while back in the family between a brother o’ mine and myself that made things … different, is all I’ll say. And Ronan thought this would be a way for that brother o’ mine and me … to … to go there, dig it up and … and …’
‘Put things right?’ I said.
‘Put things right,’ said Mr McCoy.
‘So,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘I imagine that’s what Ronan was trying to tell you; about his time capsule, or his time machine and it being the reason …’
‘You see, Brendan, that’s just it …’
‘Aaron …’
‘No, love, no …’
‘Aaron, stop, keep your voice down …’
‘No, I’m sorry but you can’t get round the fact that it’s my fault. That’s what’s so friggin’ hard, Brendan.’
‘Aaron, you can’t be thinking like that, we’ve gone over this again and again …’
‘I know but it’s true, Emma, I don’t care what you say. If I had sorted all this family stuff out then Ronan would never have been there, it wouldn’t have happened and none of us would be where we are now. That’s just the way of it and I’ll have to live with it and that’s that.’
Mr McCoy was hunched over and so still that he almost seemed to be rooted down into the ground.
‘Well …’ said Mrs McCoy, taking a breath and letting it out through her nose.
There was a lot more the McCoys could say and there was a lot more I needed to know.
But the rest was for Ronan to tell.
‘And the box is still buried?’ I said. Mr McCoy straightened and swayed slightly. ‘It’s buried by the stump for you?’
He stared at me and his swaying stopped.
‘For me,’ he said. ‘And that brother o’ mine.’
‘Maybe one day you’ll dig it up. Together,’ I said.
‘Aye,’ said Mr McCoy. ‘Maybe. One day. But a lot of other things need to be put to ground before we dig anything up, Brendan.’
There was a beep outside. I had heard my dad’s car pull up a while ago but he’d been silently waiting until his impatience must have got the better of him.
‘There’s your da,’ said Mr McCoy, snapping out of it. ‘I’m sure he’s wondering what’s keeping you.’
‘And Ronan will be wondering what’s keepingme,’ said Mrs McCoy.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Tell him it was my fault.’
‘Well, we’ll keep it between us and next time you’re back …’ She didn’t finish her thought.
Suddenly, the next time I’d be back seemed even further away knowing what I now knew. If the McCoys thought pausing Buddy Time was going to help me focus on my exams they were wrong.
