charge him now.'
'No,' Costello said. 'We've seventy-two hours. Hold him over Christmas. We'll start again on Boxing Day. If we need to, we can charge him then. Let the wee shite stew for a few days without his turkey and ham. Agreed?' We all shrugged assent. 'The only problem now is who'll do tonight?'
It's difficult on any night, never mind Christmas Eve, to get volunteers to man a station in a village the size of ours. Generally, one of us takes a mobile and the station is locked up for the night. McKelvey had screwed that up. Someone needed to be in the station while he was being held.
'I'll do a session before midnight,' I said. 'Debbie will divorce me if I do the whole night. Anyway, Penny is singing solo at midnight Mass tonight and I can't miss it or she'll divorce me, too.'
'I'm out,' Williams said. 'I have to play Santa all alone.'
'I'll do the nightshift,' Holmes piped up. 'I have no one waiting for me; I don't mind. Everyone else has someone to go home to.
'Aren't you going home for Christmas?' Williams said, and I realized that I didn't even know where 'home' was for him.
'No. My mother died years ago. My father is in care but he's so far gone I could stand right beside him and he wouldn't even know I was there. So that's me. Little orphan Jason.'
Williams looked taken aback by his sincerity. 'Come to mine for dinner tomorrow. It'll just be me and Peter… and the cat.' She seemed to have blurted the offer out without thinking, and instantly blushed.
'Thanks, Caroline,' he said. 'I might.'
The two of them looked at each other momentarily, before turning back to me and Costello to dispel the awkwardness which we all felt.
'Fine, Jason. If you're happy enough to do it, that's great,' Costello said. 'We'll get Harvey to hold the fort until… eight?'
I nodded my agreement – if I did 8.00 to 11.30 p.m., I'd still be in time for Mass.
'Benedict, you take the mobile just in case.' He began to walk away, then called over his shoulder, 'And a happy Christmas to you all!'
As he turned to walk away, I saw Williams mouth 'Benedict?' to Holmes, who shrugged.
'Only to Elvis,' I said, with a wink, realizing that they hadn't known my full Christian name.
'I heard that,' Costello shouted, from his office.
By the time I got home it was almost seven o'clock. Debbie was getting Penny changed into her Christmas clothes, which she had been given early as a special treat for singing at midnight Mass. I watched as the two of them fixed one another's hair and giggled about girlie things. Shane and I did the manly thing by sitting in front of the TV and not speaking. But then, he was only ten months old.
Around five to eight, I got ready to go to the station. I left the house with Debbie's warning ringing in my ears: 'If you miss Penny's solo, the door will be locked when you get home. Sleep with Frank.'
I made it to the station in five minutes or so, the traffic was so light. Harvey opened the front door, yawning. 'What's up?' I asked.
'Nothing, sir,' he said. 'Quiet as a mouse in there. I took him tea and a sandwich about an hour ago.' 'Fair enough, John. Best get home, eh?' 'Going to see my sister, sir. Christmas presents and that.' 'Have a good evening. Happy Christmas, John. Thanks for your help today.'
'My pleasure, sir,' he said, shrugging on his Garda overcoat. 'Merry Christmas.'
I checked on McKelvey a few minutes later: he was sleeping on his side, his breath wheezing slightly, presumably a result of the blows he had received during his arrest. I lifted the empty cup and plate which he'd left at the side of his bed. He muttered quietly in his sleep and shifted onto his back.
I sat in the station until 11.30 p.m. reading three-day-old newspapers. When Holmes arrived, I packed up and headed to Mass, not bothering to check on McKelvey, who was getting a better night's sleep than the rest of us.
I sat in the church and listened to my daughter sing 'O Holy Night', her voice cracking a little on the top notes. I looked at Debbie to see tears well in her eyes as she watched our little girl stand at the lectern and hold the attention of all the people in the church. I was aware of a sensation deep in my mind, an awareness of what the doctor had said about hepatitis or HIV. I would have to ensure that I did nothing which might endanger my family. Debbie would sometimes use my razor to shave her legs. What if I nicked myself and she used it? What if Penny or Shane picked up something from my cutlery – or if I kissed them goodnight? Something in my breast felt raw and exposed as my daughter's voice rose above the choir's in the final chorus, and I wished to be a child again myself, to be held in my mother's arms and told that everything would be alright.
As if instinctively sensing my need, Debbie took my hand without looking and squeezed it tenderly. Her thumb ran across the back of my hand, caressing the knuckles, and I felt her tense when she rubbed the gauze dressing where McKelvey had bitten me. Instinctively, afraid that some blood may have soaked through with which she might come into contact, I pulled my hand away. She looked down at my hand and then at my face. Smiling a little bewilderedly, she took my hand again in both of hers. Her openness and generosity made me grateful all over again that she had ever married me. This thought would come back to haunt me later that evening, as I almost threw away such a precious gift.
Chapter Seven
Wednesday, 25th December
It was raining as we drove home, a thin steady drizzle which created dirty haloes around the neon of the street lamps and smeared the windscreen with each sweep of the wipers. The journey passed in silence as Penny lay dozing, stretched across the back seat.
As I swung the car into our driveway, the headlamps raked across a silver BMW which had been abandoned in front of our doorway, and I felt something in my stomach collapse in on itself.
'I wonder who this could be,' Debbie said, then got out of the car.
My parents had watched Shane for us while we were at Mass and my mother opened the door. 'You've got company. In a bit of a state, too,' she said, rolling her eyes.
Miriam Powell was sitting on the old leather armchair facing the door as we entered the living room, attempting to affect an air of sophistication, despite the smell of gin that hung around her. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was clearly having difficulty focusing. My parents excused themselves and left as Debbie carried Penny up to bed. Miriam watched with a fixed, insincere smile as I kissed my daughter on the forehead and told her I loved her. 'I always knew you'd make a good father, Benedict,' Miriam said. 'I've always said that.'
'There's little to it, Miriam. When you have kids as good as those two of mine, you can't help but be good.'
'I have no children,' she stated matter-of-factly.
'I know.' I felt I should add some note of commiseration, but I had always suspected that their childlessness was by choice.
'Could you offer a lady a drink?' she said, in a slurred attempt at humour.
'Gin. Right?'
'You could be a barman, do you know that, Benedict?' she replied, and laughed – a shrill, empty laugh that rang out too long.
In the kitchen, I fixed her a gin and tonic, omitting the gin because she was driving. When I returned, she was standing at the hearth, admiring our family photographs.
'Thank you, Benedict. I have always relied on the kindness of… well, not strangers certainly, but-'
'That's a role you were never any good at, Miriam,' Debbie said, standing in the doorway. 'Even at college, you were never weak enough for Blanche.'
'Deborah! Happy Christmas, dear,' Miriam said, turning suddenly and moving to kiss Debbie. In her haste, the cuff of her woollen jacket caught on a picture of Penny on her first day at school and the picture fell to the ground, shattering the glass.
'Oh fuck! Was that me?'
