Born & Bred (23 page)

He hadn’t had a talk like this with anyone in years. She was poking fun at him like only a friend would and he was enjoying every minute of it. “Ah sure, Miriam, you know what it’s like.”

“Patrick? Will my fall from grace be an issue for you?”

He had no idea what to say. If she was a man, one of those that had shed the collar, it would have been a lot easier. He didn’t really know how women dealt with their issues. When he was younger he always avoided them and now he had no understanding of them. He could understand the women in the books he read, but, in real life, he had no idea.

“Patrick?”

“No! Of course it won’t. Why would it? Sure there’s plenty like you, and, if we are to listen to the Boss, we’re supposed to show a little compassion and understanding once in a while.”

“Like he did with Mary Magdalene?”

“No, no, Miriam. I didn’t mean to offer any offence. I’m just not used to talking about things like this.”

“Are you sure you’re Joe’s friend? Do I have the wrong guy? Listen, if this is going to be a problem for you we can just skip it.” She paused long enough to force him to dither and decide.

“Not at all, Miriam. What would Joe say if I wouldn’t even meet you for a cup of tea? I’ll give you a call the next time and we can arrange to meet.”

**

But they didn’t meet.

He avoided even thinking about her until a letter from Joe arrived. It stressed how worried he was about her and that she was having a rough time settling back into Dublin. He also wanted to know why Patrick hadn’t been to see her.

When he got back from Deirdre’s house, he did it. He picked up the phone and dialed her number, He had tried to do it so many times that he knew her number by heart. But every other time he stopped on the last number and hung up.

This time it was different. This time he was just asking for her help with a troubled young teenager. No one could doubt his motives now.

He explained the whole situation. Miriam was delighted to be asked and wanted to see Deirdre right away but Fr. Reilly thought it would be better if just the two of them met first so he could give her all the details.

He had hoped to keep the matter private so that there would be no misunderstandings, even though the whole thing was innocent, but he wasn’t that lucky.

“Who was that on the telephone?” Fr. Brennan asked as he emerged from hallway.

“A friend, Fr. Brennan. Just a friend of mine.”

“Are you always so ill at ease with your friends?” The old man was doddering but had moments of clarity that unsettled Fr. Reilly.

“Can I help you find something, Father?”

“Can I not walk around in my own house without the Spanish Inquisition?”

He walked back into the hall with his open bathrobe billowing around his naked, wrinkled body. Fr. Reilly couldn’t put it off anymore. He’d have to make another dreaded call; he’d have to have a word with the Bishop. Mrs. Dunne, the woman who came by to cook and clean for them, hadn’t noticed yet, but it was only a matter of time.

CHAPTER 12

The morning after watching Danny walk by, Deirdre lay in her bed. She’d had a night of fitful dreams and blamed it on the joint. She didn’t do that very often anymore but sometimes the boredom got to her. The rest of the year had flown by as she immersed herself in her studies but the summer had dragged.

Her father didn’t want her to work “like some common shop girl,” but she was far too old to spend the holidays as they once did; visiting uncles and aunts and spending a few weeks by the sea at Tramore. It hadn’t been fun for any of them since Grainne left.

She was off in Morocco where Johnny was learning how to capture light.

Some of it reflected from the pages of her letters on those days when Dublin was damp and dreary. Their father had cut her off and forbade any contact, but Deirdre ignored him and wrote often. Their mother was involved, too, intercepting the post and hand-delivering Grainne’s replies under an unspoken agreement that Deirdre would share the news. “Here’s another letter from your friend in Tangiers,” she said every time, and, in time, Deirdre stopped correcting her. They were complicit and covert because every time Grainne’s name was mentioned her father still sneered: “my own flesh and blood—off fornicating in the desert with a penniless hippie.” But her mother was working on him, subtly leaking the better news.

“I read something interesting in the ‘Arts’ section of a magazine at the hairdressers the other day. It talked about up and coming artists and it mentioned Grainne’s Johnny,” she casually floated to Deirdre, over dinner while her father sat behind his paper. It stiffened when his wife’s tone reached him; it was the tone she used to announce when he had to listen.

“Oh,” Deirdre played along, trying not to smile as the seeds she’d sown took root. Grainne had written that his paintings were finally beginning to sell. She also mentioned that she might be pregnant but not to let their parents know—she wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet.

They had often talked about it and while Grainne started having sex with Johnny when she was only seventeen, Deirdre was waiting. She wasn’t sure if she was ready and Grainne said she respected her for that—just like Deirdre respected her for the choice she had made.

Grainne was the only person she could talk to about stuff like that. She didn’t think it fair to discuss it with Miriam, and she tried talking to her mother but all she got was a reminder about the example given by Mary, the mother of God.

She could never really understand the symbolism of the Virgin Mother but she had learned to keep her thoughts to herself. Grainne said that it was typical of the double standards and hypocrisy—that women were supposed to stay virgins until the Church gave them the go ahead to go and breed like rabbits. She and Johnny did want to have children, but only when they felt they were ready.

She did promise to keep Deirdre informed and until she did, Deirdre agonized, too, as she tried to imagine what she would do if it was her. It was all very well for everyone to go around saying that it was a mortal sin of the worst kind but they never seemed to get that upset about all the other killings that went on in the world.

Not that she could ever accept the killing of life at its most vulnerable, but things were far more complicated than that. She understood the morality of it but she also believed that it was a matter for women and not something the clergy should concern themselves with. They would be better off speaking out about injustice and things like that.

She had joined a women’s group on Miriam’s suggestion and was fast becoming an evangelist. In fact, since she started seeing her, her outlook on many things were . . . not so much changed but more articulated. Things were changing for the women of Ireland and they could now become anything they wished to be.

Her mother was a bit coy on that subject but Deirdre and Miriam discussed it often, something that Deirdre sometimes mentioned over dinner despite her mother’s secret signs of disapproval. Deirdre didn’t care even though her father grumbled about his daughter spending so much time with “that defrocked nun” but her mother coyly approved. “She’s a very bright girl and you should be very proud of her. In my day, young women didn’t have all these choices and you should be happy that she has people to help her find the right path. You would if she were your son.”

She also reproached Deirdre about going out of her way to upset her father.

Deirdre didn’t care. She was just giving them fair warning for when she decided what she was going to do with her life. She didn’t want them to be as shocked as they were when Grainne left.

She had no idea what it was that she was going to do but she wanted them to be ready. She had a growing list of all the things she didn’t want to become but was less sure about what she did want.

One thing was certain, though. She wanted to do something that would make the world better. She wanted to be a part of the great change that was sweeping the whole world. She wanted to be like Mary Robinson who had shown that women could do it all. She married who she liked, despite the fuss, and had a career and a family. That’s what Deirdre wanted for herself—a very full life, full of challenges because that was what it would take to make things better, for everyone.

But seeing Danny again made her stop and think: she had failed that challenge and taken the easy way out.

Still, she had done her penance and now, enough time had passed. She was now ready to right that wrong and, if he was open to it, apologize. She wasn’t sure how he might take it—she’d heard how much he had changed. He’d become the local dealer and was hanging out with the wrong crowd. She certainly didn’t want to get mixed up in any of that but she had to do what was right.

Of course she couldn’t let her parents know, so, after she dressed and went downstairs, she would just tell them that she was going to meet up with Miriam. It was the lesser of the two evils and it wasn’t a total lie. She’d planned to meet her later, and besides, she wasn’t really sure if he’d even want to talk with her.

“Good morning,” her mother greeted her but didn’t look up. Instead, she poured more tea and stirred her cup even though she never used sugar, or milk. Deirdre waited. It was how her mother got ready to talk about the things that troubled her.

The news of Danny Boyle’s interview with the Garda was percolating through the neighborhood and they both knew how little in life was really private. After the incident in the church, they had walked the gauntlet of unspoken censure and rebuke for months until something fresher came along.

It had taken longer to blow over at home even though Deirdre had agreed to all of her father’s conditions and stopped seeing Danny. She had to; her infamous night in the church had shaken them all to their cores and the very mention of it still set her father to huffing and puffing until, at any moment, he might explode and hunt Danny down and horse-whip him.

Her mother was probably torn between broaching the subject and letting sleeping dogs lie.

“Did you hear the news about that Boyle boy?”

“No.” Deirdre answered between mouthfuls of toast.

“Well,” her mother continued slowly, letting Deirdre know that she knew she wasn’t being honest, “it seems that the Garda interviewed him in connection with the Scully murder.”

“That’s awful.”

“You don’t think that he might have been involved in any way?”

“I doubt it. Not that I’d know. I haven’t seen him since . . .”

“I know dear, but I can’t help but think that there must be some mistake. After all, he has always been a most unfortunate boy.” Her mother looked up and Deirdre lowered her face. They never really discussed what actually happened in the church.

“I do hope that he has somebody to talk with at a time like this. I don’t mean to speak badly about his parents but I’m not sure they can be of much help to him right now.”

When Deirdre looked up her mother was sipping her tea, her face was impassive and her eyes were soft and warm. It was how she told her daughter what she expected of her. She always insisted on doing what was right and trying to find a way to do it without ruffling the feathers of propriety. “Of course I’m not suggesting that you take up with him again, but I do think that the boy could use a few kind words right now.”

“But what would father say?”

“Yes, it would be better if he didn’t know, but what harm can there be in a few kind words—just to let the boy know that people still care about his well-being.”

“People?”

“Deirdre, don’t be so vague. I just think that showing a bit of kindness can make the world of difference at times like these.”

Deirdre finished her tea. She had planned to visit the Dandelion one last time, anyway. And if she did bump into Danny, she would just talk with him—just to let him know that she still cared about what happened to him. Nothing more, but she did owe him that much.

*

The last days of the Dandelion Market were surreal. Everyone wanted to be a part of it again, strolling serenely through memories, or strutting defiantly against the future. It was closing down having lost its space to progress, and Deirdre wasn’t too unhappy about that.

It was great when it first began, when she used to tag along with Grainne and Johnny, but now it had changed. Punky looking young men now stood behind the stalls with black spiked hair and safety pins everywhere. And the young women wore pinks with blacks and had neon hair. They wore excessive makeup around their eyes and almost looked snide as she passed in her plain summer dress.

Everybody was a little edgy, but “Peace” and “Love” were still for sale. In amongst the muddle of hats and buttons and torn tee-shirts all sneering at the imminent end of the world, with bits of chains and dog collars everywhere.

She heard him before she saw him, singing
Hurricane
in a wide space where people could stop and listen. Despite all that he had been through, he could still put on a good show and his open guitar case was dotted with shiny coins and a few fluttering pound notes.

She wanted to stand to one side where he mightn’t notice, but as she moved he looked up and began to smile. He was wearing his dark glasses and looked pale and thin but when he smiled she only saw his soft, sweet lips. It was one of the things she always liked about him—that he had a shy smile and his lips were huge.

He finished his song and nodded to his crowd as he moved his capo and began a very different rhythm that soon became
Teach your Children
–a song that they used to sing together when they were high.

But the standing crowd soon lost interest and drifted off, dropping a few more coins as they went. Soon it was just Danny singing above the passing crowd, to where Deirdre stood, back against a pillar, off to one side, waiting for the right moment.

She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. Part of it could be guilt. Miriam often talked to her about things like this. She said they were opportunities—knocking very loudly. They were the chances to put right past wrongs.

She had always loved the way he played and sang and that, she reminded herself, proved that he still had a good soul, deep inside him. Miriam would agree. She was always telling her to try to look for the positive in everything. She had also told her that if she still felt badly about what had happened that she would get her chance to make amends, for karma’s sake if nothing else.