‘I’ll tell them about your birthmark!’
The satisfaction that much anticipated encounter would bring was a balm to his wounded spirit through the years. And now he was to be denied justice.
If only he’d had the guts to carry it through instead of putting it off. Now it was too late. The bastard had got away with it, and Jonathan was back in his private hell, the hell that no one knew about except Hannah Harrison his counsellor, and Kenny Dowling, his much admired teacher from primary school, whom he had met in the Front Lounge years later, and instantly recognized, and wondered how he had never copped that he was gay. They had spent a couple of hours drinking and catching up and Kenny was as nice a man as Jonathan had remembered as a child. Every so often they would bump into each other and have a chat. Kenny had a partner, Russell, an artist, and they often invited Jonathan back to their house, or for a meal out, or to go to a concert.
One night, when Russell had gone to bed, he and Kenny were talking about an abuse case that had come to light with a mutual friend. ‘Anything ever happen to you?’ Kenny asked casually.
‘Yeah,’ Jonathan sighed, and then it all came out in a torrent of bitter bile that shook him to his core.
‘That fat bastard. I remember him. A married man with kids and they say it’s us gays who abuse kids,’ Kenny swore, coming to sit beside Jonathan and putting an arm around his shoulder. ‘I always felt you had a secret sadness. I could see it in your eyes. I should have made an effort to see what was wrong. I just had to be extra careful about boundaries, you know yourself. I’m sorry, Jonathan, I let you down.’
‘No you didn’t. You gave me peace and security in your class and soon after you started teaching us the abuse had come to an end. In fact I threatened the slimy toad that I would tell you, and after that he never did it to me again. So you did save me from it.’ Jonathan gave a shaky laugh.
‘Look, you have to go and see this wonderful woman, Hannah Harrison. She’s a terrific counsellor. She practises just off the canal in Harold’s Cross,’ Kenny had said, getting a pen and paper to write down the details. ‘Promise me you’ll go to her – she’ll work wonders for you. She’s a holistic, metaphysical healer as well as a psychologist,’ he urged. ‘She’s different, but brilliant, and I should know, I’ve been to a few.’
It had taken six months before Jonathan made the appointment. It was the best thing he had ever done for himself. Hannah, an elfin, brown-haired woman in her late forties, had a calm, reassuring presence. She had such beautiful eyes, blue with flecks of grey and violet around the iris, full of warmth and kindness. The kindest eyes he had ever seen, apart from his mother’s. She had listened patiently as he poured out his story to her, interjecting a comment here and there and, when he had come to a faltering halt, she had made him a cup of tea.
‘Today is the day you have made a fresh start,’ she said firmly. ‘Today is the day you go forward with your life and begin to clear and release the past. Today is the day you let go of the burden of guilt and secrecy. Today is the day that you say to yourself that no blame attaches to you in any way, shape or form for what that man did to you. Do you understand that? Today you go free.’
Free, Jonathan thought bitterly, remembering his counsellor’s words; freedom was an illusion. Now here he was back to where he’d started, having to lie to his mother just as he’d lied as a child, so as to protect her from knowledge that would crucify her.
Nancy would think badly of him if he failed to show up for the removal service. In a small country town like Rosslara, neighbours looked out for neighbours and stood by them in their hour of need. That was a given. So did he put his mother’s wishes first? Did he allow her to unwittingly reopen a wound he had long fought to heal? Or did he protect himself and stay away? That was his choice. Jonathan stared unseeingly through the shining windowpanes as his demons returned with a vengeance and the day that had promised so much faded away.
C
HAPTER
N
INE
‘Ooooohhhh!’ Hilary groaned, squinting at the blinding disc of sun that assaulted her when she blinked open her eyes. The shrill jangle of the phone on her bedside locker jack-hammered through her head.
‘Hello!’ she croaked, her mouth dry.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Her husband’s concerned tone jerked her awake.
‘Oh! Niall! Hi. Nothing’s wrong, just bit of a hangover,’ she confessed.
‘Ha, can’t leave you for a day or two and you get rid of the kids and go on the ming!’ he teased. ‘Where did you go? Did you have a night with the girls?’
‘No I didn’t go anywhere. Actually I met a really nice guy on the course and brought him over to see the showrooms, and then we came back here for a Chinese, and then Colette arrived out of the blue, so we opened another couple of bottles and now I’m paying for it,’ she moaned.
‘Oh! Should I be worried about you bringing strange men back to the house when I’m away? Is he still there?’ Niall couldn’t hide his surprise.
‘No he’s not!’ Hilary
