Ride On (31 page)

‘Trish?'

‘Hi.'

‘It's Norman.'

‘Yeah. I know.'

‘You got home okay? The snow started soon after you left.'

‘Yeah. The buses were still running then. Did you find Aesop?'

‘No. Well, he's in Cork, so we kind of found him, yeah. But we haven't talked to him yet. I'm going to head down tomorrow. So you're okay?'

‘Not really. But I'm not stuck out in the snow, if that's what you mean.'

‘Well that's good.'

‘What did you want?'

‘Only … to say that I'm sorry, Trish. I'm a bloody idiot for thinking what I did. I don't deserve a chance, but I'm hoping you'll give me one.'

‘Do you know how much you hurt me?'

‘I can guess. If it's anything like how I feel right now then I should be shot.'

‘I'd never do that, what you were thinking. Never. I never have. I was with you, not Aesop or anyone else.'

‘I know. I'm sorry. Trish, I'm not good at this. I've never felt like this about anyone, and when I thought … I just went mad. It's stupid, but I couldn't help it. I just went mad.'

‘But I can't deal with that, Norman.'

‘It'll never happen again. I swear to God it won't.'

‘Will it not? Not even when I'm out with mates or working late? If I'm just talking to a guy in the pub. Or even if Aesop's around and we're all having a laugh? I can't always be worrying about what's going on in your mind, Norman. Trying to make sure I don't upset you.'

‘I know.'

‘There's meant to be trust. Respect.'

‘I know that.'

She didn't say anything for a while.

‘Trish?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Just checking you're still there.'

‘I'm here.'

‘Can I come over?'

Silence again.

‘Please?'

‘Norman no. Not tonight. Look, I've had a bloody long couple of days. I'm wrecked.'

‘Okay. Well … can I see you tomorrow?'

He heard her sigh.

‘Norman, I'm not sure that …'

‘Trish, I fucked up. I know that. It won't happen again. I'm sorry.'

‘But you're going to Cork tomorrow.'

‘I'll … fuck. Yeah. I have to. I have to get that bloody fool Aesop. Christ, that man needs the hiding of a lifetime.'

‘Okay, listen. Call me in the morning okay? I need to get the car down to Dad anyway. His other one is on the blink. He said he didn't need it, but I know him. He'll have Mam tormented if he's stuck in the house. I'll drive you down to Cork and head on to Sneem. We can talk on the way. The weather here says the roads should be better by tomorrow. In the afternoon anyway. How did Aesop get down there?'

‘I think he flew.'

‘Right. Well I s'pose you'll have to fly back with him. I'll get the six o'clock back up from Killarney on Monday morning for work.'

‘Okay. Okay, that's great. Thanks Trish.'

‘We'll talk in the morning okay?'

‘Yeah. But thanks for even …'

‘Shush. Norman?

‘Yeah?'

‘You told me you loved me today.'

‘I did.'

‘Do you?'

‘I do.'

‘Say it again.'

He swallowed.

‘I love you.'

‘Do you really?'

‘Yeah. I do. Really.'

‘Because if you ever do that to me again …'

‘I won't. Jesus Christ, I never will. I swear to God. I'd cut my throat first.'

‘Okay. You need to work on your imagery, Norman. You've already had your throat cut and been shot so far in this conversation. And Aesop's getting a hiding.'

‘Sorry.'

‘And me here trying to convince myself you're not deranged.'

‘Eh … well …'

‘I'm joking, Norman. Look, call me tomorrow, okay?'

‘As soon as I'm up.'

‘Bye.'

‘Seeya.'

‘Norman?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Tell me again.'

‘I love you, Trish.'

‘Good,' she said.

And then she was gone.

Norman fell back onto his bed, every nerve in his body tingling. He made a mental note to buy Jimmy a barrel of porter for telling him he should call her. Who'd have thought it? That a conversation between him and a girl could actually make a shite situation better?

He lay there, just watching the snow fly past his window.

*

Norman went to Mass with his Mam at half eight the next morning. He rarely actually went into the church with her these days, but this morning he had a lot to be thankful for. Trish had called to say that she'd be over at about twelve and they could head down to Cork then.

Back in the house from the church, Norman put on the kettle as his Mam started preparing the dinner.

‘Will you be here for dinner?'

‘No Mam. I'm heading back down to Cork to pick Aesop up.'

‘What? In this weather?'

‘Sure the worst of it is over now. There'll be no more snow now till later in the week, they're saying.'

‘What's he doing down there? And can he not pick himself up?'

‘Ah … he just went down to see a girl. I said I'd pick him up.'

He didn't know if she was biting all this, but she just shrugged and turned back to the cabbage she was stripping.

‘A girl?' she said, over her shoulder.

‘Eh … yeah.'

‘Anyone we know?'

‘Not … sure.'

‘Robert, what kind of an eejit do you think I am? Didn't I have Bridie on the phone to me yesterday. I know all about himself and Helen.'

‘Oh. Well, I didn't want you to get all … y'know …'

‘She's a big girl. She can do what she wants.'

‘Yeah. Well, apparently she isn't interested in Aesop.'

‘Good for her.'

‘I think she's going back with that Molloy young fella.'

‘Molloy,' said his Mam. ‘God. All belonging to that crowd are mad for drink.'

‘Well he's off it now, he says.'

‘And he better stay off it. Because if Mikey Pat hears he's acting the maggot again, there'll be trouble.'

‘Yeah. Anyway, I'm going to collect Aesop. I'll probably be back tonight, assuming the weather holds.'

‘Grand so. Well be careful.'

‘I will of course. Listen … Mam …'

‘Yes love?'

‘Eh … I've been meaning to tell you something.'

‘What's that?'

‘Well, it's just that I've … I've been kind of seeing a girl.'

She stopped what she was doing and turned around to him.

‘Have you now?'

‘Yeah.'

Norman had his hands in his pockets in case they started shaking on him.

‘What girl?'

‘Ah, a girl I met in work. A nurse. She's lovely Mam.'

‘Really? Lovely, is it?'

‘Yeah. She's great. Anyway, I've been seeing her now for a good while, and I'd like you to meet her.'

‘That sounds very serious.'

‘Ah no … well, maybe a little bit. We, eh, we … we're getting on grand. She's coming down to Cork with me this afternoon. She's picking me up here, so you can meet her then.'

‘You're bringing her to Cork? Again? God, it must serious, so.'

‘Well, she has to go down anyway, so she'll drop me off at Granny's and then … eh … what?'

‘Hmm?'

‘What do you mean “again”?'

His Mam laughed.

‘What do you take me for, you gom? Don't I know you were down there with her a couple of weeks ago.'

‘What?'

‘Yes! You think your oul' Mam's gone soft? Robert, there's nothing goes on down there that I don't hear about.'

‘Bridie told you?'

‘Bridie. And a few others. Sure I've known about that little trip you took for ages. But you weren't exactly showing her off, were you? Cooped up in the house the whole weekend, so you were.'

Norman was crimson.

‘Well, the weather wasn't great, so …'

‘Ah, I don't want to hear all that. So you like her then?'

‘Yeah. I do. A lot.'

‘Good.'

She smiled at him and turned back to the counter.

‘So do I.'

‘You … what?'

‘I like her too.'

‘Wha … I mean … how do you …'

‘Bridie isn't the only one I've been talking to, you know. Didn't your new girlfriend call here herself? I was bit surprised, I have to say, given that my son doesn't tell me a thing these days, but she seemed like a very nice girl. She was looking for you and we ended up having a great chat. Sure at that stage I already knew her name anyway from Bridie, so it was nice to talk to her finally. I'd be a long time waiting for you to introduce me. Patricia, isn't it?'

Norman laughed.

‘Yeah. Trish. She never mentioned it.'

‘Sure why would she? We were just a couple of girls having an oul' chinwag.'

‘What did you talk about?'

‘Don't you mind. Two can play at that game, Robert. Hand me up the sieve there.'

Norman bent down to get it out of the press.

‘God. Well anyway, she'll be here soon, so you can put a face to the name.'

‘I'll look forward to that so. What time is she coming?'

‘About twelve.'

She looked at the clock over the table.

‘Grand. Well can you finish this then, and I'll go up and give meself a touch-up.'

‘You don't have to Ma. You look grand.'

‘You just put that cabbage on and get started on the carrots. You think I'm going to meet this girl in an apron?'

‘No, but …'

She was disappearing up the stairs now.

‘We want to make a good impression, don't we? God knows, it's not like they've been banging down the door all these years …'

That was for fucking sure, thought Norman, smiling and picking up a carrot. And where was this version of his Mam all through his youth? There might have been a few more knocks on the door if it wasn't for her putting the fear of God into everyone he ever brought into the house.

An hour later, Norman's phone rang. When he hung up, he turned to his Mam. He was all nervous now.

‘Okay, that was Trish. She's at the roundabout and just checking where the house is. She'll be here in five minutes.'

‘Grand so. Put the kettle on there.'

He started fidgeting around the kitchen, folding the J-cloth and checking to see that there was enough milk for a cup of tea.

‘Will you ever relax, Robert? God, you do like her don't you?'

‘Yeah, Mam.'

‘Well stop fussing or she'll think there's a want in you.'

‘I know. I'm grand.'

She smiled at him from the kitchen table.

‘Actually, she's not what I would have expected for you. Nice and all as she is, like.'

‘How's that?'

‘Well. God, I wasn't expecting her to have the accent and all. I know what you're like.'

‘Ah Mam, she's not one of those Kerrywomen. She doesn't even like football.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘Ah, her brothers were mad footballers at home in Sneem. Put her off completely when she was small. She can't watch it at all now, only big games.'

‘Sneem? What do you mean, Robert?'

‘What?'

‘Sure, isn't the girl English?'

‘In the name of God, Norman, will you slow down?' said Trish.

‘I'm under the limit.'

‘But look at the roads! We won't get as far as the M50 at the rate you're going, never mind Cork.'

‘Will you try Jimmy again?'

‘Yeah. Hang on …'

She handed him the phone when he answered.

‘Jimmy?'

‘Yeah Norman. Sorry man. In the shower. What's up?'

‘Listen Jimmy, it was Amanda.'

‘What? What are you on about?'

‘Amanda. The English girl. She's the one that's been after Aesop. And she's either in Cork now, or else she's on the way there.'

‘What? Norman, what are you bleedin' talking about?'

‘She called my Mam. Pretended she was Trish. Found out about the cottage in Cork. She must be gone to find him.'

‘Wha … what'll we do? Jesus. What … where are you?'

‘I'm on the road. We'll be there in a couple of hours. Mikey's on the way there too. He left Kanturk and he'll be there in half an hour.'

‘Fuck. What about the coppers?'

‘Mikey's going to sort that out when he checks the house.'

‘Jesus. How … how did you find all this out?'

‘I'm telling you. Amanda called my Mam. Mam thought it was Trish and they started talking. She must have been following us or something. Or maybe your Susan bird in London was telling her what we're up to. Who I am and everything.'

‘But … man, Amanda was lovely. She was a bit upset over that bloke, but she never came across as some kind of … y'know …'

‘You can't tell with some people, Jimmy. Look I have to go. It's hard enough this morning without trying to drive with one hand.'

‘Yeah. Yeah. But … but Norman, listen. It can't be her.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because she's Amanda! We need a P, remember? That's what she wrote on the door! A P and an A. It can't be her. We don't have a P.'

‘We have a P, Jimmy.'

‘What? Who?'

‘Paul. Isn't that what she calls him?'

‘Oh … oh fuck! I never thought of that!'

‘Yeah, well …'

‘Christ, I don't believe it!'

‘Jimmy, I have to go.'

‘Okay. But … well … can I do anything? Call someone or …'

‘No man. And listen, don't call Susan either. Just in case.'

‘In case what?'

‘Just in case. We don't know what we're dealing with here.'

‘What?! Norman, you don't think …'

‘Jimmy I don't think anything. I just don't want any more people sticking their oar in until I find him.'

‘Okay. Jesus. Okay.'

‘I'll call you, right? Keep your phone with you.'

‘Right. Thanks.'

‘Okay.'

Norman hung up and handed the phone to Trish, gripping the wheel with both hands now and speeding up again. Trish put a hand on her seatbelt for about the fifth time to make sure that it was safely clicked. Norman tore through a yellow light and gunned across an intersection.

‘Jesus,' said Trish, a hand clapped to her face. ‘Did you not see the truck?'

‘I saw it.'

‘Feck sake. And so this is what's it going to be like going out with you, is it? Rock concerts and VIP rooms and mad dashes across the country to save your friend from a mad stalker? Is that what I'm after signing up for, is it? And me thinking you were a gardener.'

‘No Trish. I'm sorry about all this. This is a one-off.'

‘Me father's poor car.'

‘I won't hurt it.'

‘It's bad enough.'

‘It's grand.'

She sighed and sat back against the seat as they got onto a motorway ramp. She needed to try and take her mind off his driving.

‘Your Mam seemed nice.'

‘She's great.'

‘Although she was a bit worried when we bundled into the car and tore off without telling her anything.'

‘I'll call her later.'

‘Right. So, have you ever met this Amanda one?'

‘No.'

‘But you're sure it was her that pretended to be me?'

‘Yeah.'

‘You really think she's in Cork?'

‘Yeah.'

‘How would she find the place? It's in the middle of nowhere.'

‘Mam told her.'

‘Eh … Norman?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Am I annoying you with all the questions?'

He cleared his throat.

‘Of course not.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Positive.'

She put a hand on his arm.

‘Okay. Well, I'll stop anyway and let you drive.'

‘Thanks. And … and thanks for being here.'

She kissed him on the cheek and looked out the window at the snow that had been piled up off the road onto the bank. Norman let a long slow breath out of his nose and unclenched his jaw. That was another barrel of porter for Jimmy. He really knew his shit when it came to women.

*

They got to the cottage in the late afternoon. Mikey Pat had already been there and had rung to say that it was empty. It had been since at least yesterday, because there was no footprints or tyre tracks in the snow. Aesop had been there, though. The kitchen was a mess and the bed in his room looked like he'd been playing football in it. Mikey was going to drop home and then head down to the sergeant's house, to fill him in on everything.

Norman got out of the car and looked around. There was nothing much to see. Everything looked normal. They went into the house and Norman checked all the rooms thoroughly. Nothing. It was all exactly as it should be. Well, exactly as it would be if that messy bastard had spent a couple of nights there. There was a bag in the bedroom. The one Aesop used to carry his music gear around. There were no drumsticks or anything in it now though, just a pair of jeans and some underwear. He went back out to Trish.

‘Nothing.'

‘Does it look like anything's the matter?'

‘No. Not really. Except that he's not here. And he's not on his way back to Dublin or he'd have brought his bag with him. And if he
was
going back to Dublin, he'd have cleaned up because he knows what I'd do to him if he left the place in this state. Christ. Where is he?'

‘No idea. He didn't have a car, did he?'

‘Not unless he rented one.'

‘Could he have walked anywhere?'

‘No. Sure there's nowhere to walk to. Not in this weather. And not Aesop. He'd get a taxi from the couch to the kettle if he could.'

‘I don't know, Norman.'

‘You need to go, don't you?'

‘Ah no. No, I could stay for a bit.'

‘There's no need, Trish. Mikey Pat said he'd be here in half an hour. I'll have his car then if I need it.'

‘Well, if you're sure.' She checked her watch. ‘I could get home before it starts icing up too much again.'

‘Off you go. I'll be grand. Really.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Absolutely. Look, come on and I'll walk you to the car.'

‘Thanks. You're sure now?'

‘I'm sure. C'mon.'

‘Okay. You'll call me as soon as you know anything?'

‘I will of course.'

They went out and Norman looked around the landscape again, sighing. Then his eye caught something and he frowned.

‘What it is?'

‘The well.'

‘What?'

‘The well. Look. You can't really see it with snow all over it, but there's a holy well over there. See it? In that field?'

‘I think so, yeah. What about it?'

‘I'm just going to check something. Hang on a minute, will you?'

‘Yeah. No problem. Can I do anything?'

‘No. Actually … just … see the shed there?'

‘Yeah.'

‘There's a length of rope in it. Will you get it for me? The shed's not locked. The rope is hanging on a nail on the wall.'

‘What are you going to do?'

‘I just want to check something.'

‘Norman, you're not going to do something stupid, are you?'

‘Of course not. Won't take a minute. I'll see you over at the well, okay?'

He crunched through the snow in the garden and over the small fence that led into the next field. The well was about a hundred metres further on, and the snow was pretty deep. At least twelve inches. When he got there, he looked down the opening. It was less than a metre wide, but a good fifteen metres deep by all accounts. Or so Mikey Pat had once told him anyway. Obviously, Norman had never been down there. His Granny would have kicked his arse if he or any of them had ever tried that when they were kids. He started kicking snow away from around the base of the well to see if anything looked awry. But it was impossible to tell. The ground was hard with packed ice and muck. He looked up to see Trish coming over the field towards him.

‘You all right?' he called.

‘Yeah. I'm fine. Jesus, like going out with feckin' Indiana Jones this is.'

She reached him and handed him the rope.

‘You're not going down there,' she said, when she saw him look over the side again.

‘I want to just take a quick look.'

‘Norman, no! What are you talking about? That's just crazy! It's dangerous and it's stupid and you're not to do it.'

‘Sure haven't I done this kind of thing a million times. It's grand. I just want to take a quick look and I'll be back up to you then. Won't take a minute.'

‘Norman, you're not in the army now. Will you give over? What happens if the rope breaks, or slips? Or if you slip off it and fall? Come on, stop being silly.'

‘Trish, I just want to check the place out properly before Mikey Pat gets here okay? Make sure the eejit didn't fall in or something stupid.'

‘Jesus. Can you not use a torch, for Christ sake?'

‘Do you have one?'

‘Of course not. But there must be one in the shed or something …'

Norman grunted.

‘I could be half an hour looking for a torch, sure. This'll take me a couple of minutes. Get it over and done with. I'll just tie the rope to the tree there and …'

‘You're mad! Will you stop messing.'

‘I've done this hundreds of times, Trish. It's grand.'

‘You're not bloody Rambo, Norman! The rope is damp and … God, why are we even having this conversation?'

But Norman already had the rope around the thick sycamore that stood about six feet from the well.

‘Won't be a minute.'

‘Jesus, please Norman …'

He had the rope wrapped around one hand now, slack in the other. He stepped up to the lip of the well and sat on it, swinging his legs around.

‘I'll just …'

‘What the hell is that?' she said, pointing.

‘What?'

‘That. Around your ankle.'

‘Oh. That's … eh.'

‘Fuck sake, Norman, why have you a bloody big knife strapped to you? Listen, this is getting …'

‘Here. Take it.'

‘What? What am I going to do with it?'

‘Just hold it. I don't want to lose it.'

‘Jesus … and … and how are you meant to see down there?'

‘I've a lighter.'

‘And what about the bloody water in the bottom of the well? How deep is it?'

‘Only about three feet usually. There's a grate across it then. In case anyone fell in.'

She sighed.

‘You're going to go down there no matter what I say, aren't you?'

‘I'll be back up in five minutes. You can keep talking to me if you like.'

‘God. What'll we talk about? The bloody weather? Football? You abseiling into a well in the middle of winter on a damp, oily tow-rope with nothing to stop you falling to your death?'

‘Whatever you like.'

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then he was gone. All she could hear was the occasional mumble echoing up. She looked over the edge, but he was already just a murky shadow in the blackness. She waited for a minute or so.

‘Anything?' she called.

‘Hang on,' came the booming voice back up to her.

‘Okay.'

Another minute or so. She could see the faint glow of his lighter, but she couldn't make anything out down there. Norman's voice came up again, but it was all muffled.

‘What?' She leaned further in. ‘I can't hear you.'

‘I said I think I … I think I found … something.'

‘Jesus. What?'

‘Fucking hell! Fuck!'

‘What? Norman, what is it?'

The light went out.

There was more mumbling, but she didn't know what he was saying. She felt sick, her heart hammering. She jumped back from the well and over to the sycamore tree to check the knot. It looked fine. You couldn't undo it even if you were trying to, not with Norman's weight pulling it tight.

‘Trish? Trish, I'm coming up.'

‘Okay Norman. Come on.'

The rope started to twitch and jerk even more. She looked back around at the tree, but there was no way it would slip and unravel on its own. No way. It was solid. She was sweating now, despite the cold. She looked at the knife in her hand and shuddered.

‘Come on up.'