‘What about Sister Bernadette?’
‘I saw her this morning.’
It was Swan’s turn to stop walking.
‘She’s here?’
‘Yea, it’s stupid, but I never realised before that she’s from here – I even met her when I was small, only then she was called Antoinette Nolan.’
‘Antoinette Nolan. With a sister called Peggy?’
‘You know Peggy?’
‘Not yet,’ said Swan.
Now it made sense. Nuns had families – you forget that. Mother Mary Paul even talked to him about nuns taking new names. But families had loyalties that outlasted those new vows; a girl in trouble would naturally seek out her sister.
Garda Fitzmaurice must be back at the station by now. They needed to make a plan for handling the whole Nolan family, Sister Bernadette included; get in some extra Guards from Kinmore. And there was Considine to collect.
‘Where’s your aunt’s house?’ They had reached the roadside, and the town was in sight.
Ali raised a hand slightly from her side to indicate something not far away. The other arm still cradled the filthy doll. She looked a forlorn sight.
‘A bath is very good for the spirits,’ he said, hurrying away. ‘Ask your aunt to run you a bath.’
29
Cathal was blethering on about some woman he’d met in Limerick, about the unusual sexual offers she’d whispered in his ear at some drinking dive. Davy clutched his pint and watched the Dempsey family gathered on the other side of the pub, the centre of attention. It wasn’t the usual post-funeral lark of ham sandwiches and slices of cake in someone’s tidy front room. There was nothing to eat, and the Red Rock Saloon was the roughest of venues. Perfect for the Dempseys. He hadn’t really meant to come along, had sort of drifted in with the crowd.
Joan’s brothers kept throwing him filthy looks. He had the feeling that a fight was brewing, and he welcomed it.
Some aul’ fella appeared at his side. ‘Your sister says can you come outside.’
Davy squinted at him. ‘Right you are.’
The old man moved off.
‘I’m thinking maybe now she was only a prostitute,’ Cathal was saying. Davy studied the crush of people around the Dempsey family, offering drinks and words of wisdom about death. Their tiny, ignorant opinions. He looked at their mouths, their squirming wet lips. He understood so much now about the rottenness of it all.
Davy tipped his glass to his lips, swallowed deep. Cathal had disappeared without him noticing. He was standing alone and people were staring at him openly now. The old man reappeared.
‘Go on now, son. Your sister needs you.’
Una was waiting outside in her car, clutching the steering wheel but going nowhere.
Davy walked over, put his palms on the car roof and hung down from them to peer in at her. ‘What’s up with you?’
‘You’re drunk. Get in,’ she said.
‘I’ve got a pint on the go.’
‘Please, Davy.’
‘Oh, please, is it?’
The man who had ushered him out of the pub was standing in the entrance now, barring it. Davy started to laugh as he made his way round to the passenger side of the car. When he got in, Una rolled her window down, as if he stank, and maybe he did. She looked all keyed up, like she could snap if you twanged her.
‘This feels familiar.’
‘Don’t bait me,’ said Una. ‘It’s not right for you to be in there.’
‘Free drink and weeping – it suits me fine.’
‘Who’s in there? Did anyone say anything?’
‘Ach … everyone’s scrambling for their bit of the blame. The ma’s not there, but the men are. I’ll bet you a quid there’s a fight before closing.’
‘Do they say she jumped?’
‘Sure, isn’t that what happened?’
‘Don’t mess me about.’
‘Wouldn’t dare mess about with you. Someone told me Ned Greevy’s saying he spotted her alone on the bridge that night. What do you make of that?’
‘My nerves are in bits. I didn’t push her, you know that.’
Davy combed his hand through his fringe, cleared it from his eyes. ‘I was looking the other way.’
Her mouth opened in protest, but she seemed to change her mind and swallowed it back. She turned the key and the engine shuddered into life.
‘Hey, let me out,’ he said.
Una pulled out of the car park, her hand clumsy with the gears. ‘I can’t trust you not to say something stupid when you’re like this.’
‘What you going to do – kill me?’
The old Ford barrelled up the road towards Buleen, Una’s grip on the wheel as tight as her jaw.
‘Sorry. That was crude of me,’ he said. ‘It was just a convenient accident, let’s put it that way. First the child, then the mother.’
‘I’ve told you before. The baby was dead when I got to the kitchen. It was Joan’s hands on it.’
‘Drop me at Melody’s,’ he said as they passed the church, but Una ignored him, turning down towards the bridge at speed.
‘For fuck’s sake!’
‘You don’t need any more drink.’
The car bucked over the top of the bridge. Una braked hard and pulled into the grass verge beside the old chapel. With the car stopped, she turned to face him.
‘Do you want me up before the Guards – would that make you happy?’
Davy met her eyes, found himself examining the black holes in the centre of them, the bit of someone that was supposed to show their true self. Nothing. She was staring back, right into his black holes. It was stupid to think you could know a person. The sound of the river flowing behind them grew in his ears, an unbearable noise.
‘A baby’s not really a person, is it, Una?’
She shifted her eyes to look out the windscreen. ‘Of course it’s a person, it has a soul.’
‘Did you confess what you did to the priest?’
‘I protected Joan. Protected you. God will be my judge.’
‘You got away with it.’
‘You’ve no idea what it is to live with something like that. I got away with nothing.’
They drove on towards the farm.
‘I’ll drop you at your house,’ said
