True Colours (22 page)

‘
Not exactly.’

‘
Oh.’

The pause was awkward, heavy. Laden with expectation. Bursting with secrets.

‘
So.’ Alex wrinkled her nose like a baby rabbit and, with a sinking feeling, Tom Ryan knew exactly what was coming next. She’d always done that when she was a child, when she had something on her mind, when something was bothering her – like the time, long before they’d even heard of Kilfenora, when she’d wandered out into the yard of their city centre terrace, her hands thrust in her jeans pockets. He’d been splitting logs, stacking the wood between the bare block wall and the dog’s kennels, the autumn air chill and damp, his breath rising like a mist as he worked. He hadn’t heard her come up behind him, had no idea how long she’d been standing there wrinkling her nose until she’d spoken, her voice strained with the realisation of the truth, ‘Dad, Mum’s really sick isn’t she?’

‘
So.’ Slipping her briefcase onto the bed, the red leather like a blood stain on the smooth, crisp white cotton of the sheet, Alex cast around for a chair and spotting one pulled it over, sitting down with a sigh. She pulled her hair off her face before she spoke, holding it there for a moment, pulling at the roots, her eyes clouded with thoughts.

‘
Why didn’t you tell me Dad?’

‘
Tell you what love?’ Tom put his hand out to cover hers, patting it like a small dog. Despite being ill, despite the weight he had lost, deceptively hidden by the folds of the smart navy dressing gown with silk lapels that Alex had given him for Christmas, his hand was still huge, broad and square like a spade, his fingers strong, calloused. She linked her fingers through his, sighing again, feeling the tears prick the back of her eyes, ready to fall.

‘
About the accident Dad, about what really happened.’

It was Tom’s turn to wrinkle his nose, the silence like a gorge, the river of truth rushing between them carving its path deep into the bedrock. He rubbed the back of her hand with his fingers, searching for the right words. What could he say? Eventually, he shrugged his shoulders, or tried to, the bandage around his upper body restricting his movement. The force of the impact had thrown him backwards, dislocating his shoulder, a rock adding a deep flesh wound to his catalogue of injuries.

‘
Would it have made any difference? What’s done’s done.’

Alex’s voice almost cracked with emotion, ‘How can you say that? You were shot Dad, you could have been killed.’

‘
But I wasn’t love, I’m grand.’

She interrupted him, ‘Grand? You’ve been maimed for life Dad; you’re never going to be able to walk properly again.’

Tom Ryan held up his hand, stopping her, ‘I’ll be fine love, I’m still here and that’s what counts. It was an accident, these things happen.’

He was so calm, so stoic, Alex could feel her blood rising. The plan had been to keep her cool, but somehow she’d known that wasn’t going to be an achievable objective. As she spoke, Alex could already feel all the shock and fear of finding out what had happened rolling up inside her into one huge molten ball of anger.

‘
It’s not like you crashed the car Dad, this was an avoidable accident. How the hell did it happen? No one goes out shooting on that estate without telling you, without you making sure there’s no one working in the area. What the hell went wrong this time?’ Alex’s temper made her attack practical, logical – hard to defend.

Tom tried to shrug again, ‘Sebastian couldn’t get hold of me, I was out checking for traps.’

Alex still wasn’t getting it, shook her head in disbelief, ‘But why didn’t he ring you the night before, or contact the office before you went out? You don’t just suddenly decide to cull a few hinds on the spur of the moment; he must have discussed it with you.’ Her father pursed his lips. She could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, but sometimes there was no choice. ‘Tell me Dad, I need to know exactly how this happened.’

For a moment Tom looked around the ward, at the other seven beds, all occupied, two with their curtains still drawn. Visitors were beginning to trickle in, the search for chairs beginning, the ‘how are yous’, the ‘brought you this to reads’. Fluorescent tubes were pinging into life as the sky darkened outside, the scent of cabbage drifting from somewhere deep in the bowels of the building. He didn’t want to be here.

‘
All right. Sebastian came down for the weekend, the weather was great, cold and clear and he decided to take the Monday off. We’d talked about the hinds on the Friday, and it was the last day of the season – the job needed to be done. He thought I’d be up at the lake, tried the radio but my battery was out of juice. It just – look it just happened.’

Tom wasn’t telling her everything and they both knew it. Alex shook her head.

‘
There is no way Sebastian would go out on his own, without you or one of the lads. And there is no way he wouldn’t tell you.’

‘
He wasn’t on his own.’ Tom muttered the words, shifting uncomfortably in the bed as he spoke. ‘Can you get me a glass of water love? This place is like an oven.’

Leaning over to the bedside locker, Alex filled the glass, her face caught in a frown,

‘
So who else was there?’

Tom sighed, it was all going to come out now, and he was quite sure she wouldn’t like it.

Tom had tried to think of a way to explain what had happened that would soften the blow, that would make it easier for her. But in the end he’d given up, had kept his fingers crossed that she would believe him, take his vague explanation about a car accident at face value and move on. Silently, he cursed himself. He should have known she’d find out, that one of the nursing staff would let something slip. And he knew the truth would cut Alex to the core. Whatever about her dashing off to Barcelona pretending that she was following her dream, pretending that everything was perfect, he knew damn well something had happened all those years ago, that something had gone wrong between her and Sebastian. And, without a doubt, the truth of what had happened out there on the Long Ridge would open old wounds, sting like salt. It had been a long time ago, but how could he forget her drifting about like love’s young dream one minute, starry-eyed, a permanent grin on her face, then, in a heartbeat, she was leaving the country. Putting as much distance between herself and Sebastian as was humanly possible.

Despite Alex’s efforts to hide it, whatever had happened, Tom had always reckoned, must have been caused by Sebastian. Watching her pack, folding her good dress with military precision, he’d known damn well Alex didn’t really want to leave, that she was still mad about Sebastian. He’d tried to ask, to get her to talk about it to tell him the truth, but she had been full of Barcelona and the design course and the miracle that they’d given her a place – she’d applied on a whim apparently, not mentioned it because she’d reckoned she had no hope of getting in.

And then they’d offered her a scholarship…

And at that moment, all those years ago, perched on the edge of her bed nestling under the sloping ceiling of her room, the shutters flung back, the tiny window open and letting in the scent of the wild roses climbing around the frame, the sounds of the wood around them, Tom had felt utterly helpless, had had no idea how to get through to his headstrong teenage daughter. And the neat package of grief that he’d sealed away at the back of his mind when he’d lost her mum had begun to open up again, the pain seeping through the wrapping, overwhelming him, swallowing him up, dark and stinking of what might have been. At that exact moment he missed Carmen more than ever, knew for sure that if Carmen was around that they’d get the full story. Carmen would have been able to get to the root of the problem, find out the truth about what had happened between his daughter and Sebastian. She’d only just got the results of her exams for goodness sake, had put off applying to universities, was toying with the idea of taking a year out, of getting a job in interiors, in a shop or a consultancy, to see what she thought of it before she committed to a career. She had plenty of time to decide; she had sat her Leaving Certificate a year early, had been recognised by her teachers as a high-flyer early on. But he hadn’t expected her to be flying so soon, flying like a startled pheasant in front of a fox, flying away from him.

And after she left, Alex had never asked about the estate, never asked about the Wingfields, so Tom had taken it that she didn’t want to know, that it was easier for her not to know. He had wrestled with the news of the death of Sebastian’s parents, eventually deciding that she had enough to cope with, that leaving had been hard enough without having to do it all over again if she returned for their funeral.

Of course she’d had to come home, eventually. He’d been backwards and forwards to Barcelona, taking a few days here, a few days there, trying to keep his destination quiet – not that it would have mattered. Sebastian was back in London at university by then, had moved on. But she must have still been sweet on him, because when she had finally stepped across the threshold of the cottage, she had closed the cadmium yellow front door firmly behind her and didn’t set foot outside again until it was time to return to Barcelona.

Now, looking at her sitting beside him, her face was set with the same bitter determination he’d seen when they set off for the airport that first time. The same pain. And there wasn’t an easy way to explain what had happened. Tom Ryan drew in a deep breath.

‘
Caroline. It was Caroline’s idea to go out. She talked him into it, and I reckon she must have distracted him when he was aiming. He’s an excellent shot. There’s no way he would have shot wide unless someone bumped into him or something. Look I don’t know, I didn’t ask. Like I said, what’s done’s done.’

Caroline. Alex felt like she’d been kicked in the teeth. Her eyes narrowed and she sat up straight, very straight, like she was in a board meeting, like she was negotiating a major deal. Caroline. She should have known.

‘
It isn’t Dad. What’s done is most definitely not done. It doesn’t end there. It can’t do. I spoke to your doctor, you’re never going to be able to walk again without a stick. Which means that you won’t be able to work.’ She pronounced each word clearly, taking him with her through her thought process, logically, pragmatically.

‘
Don’t you worry lass I’ll be fine. It’ll sort itself out. Honestly, it’ll all be fine. Lord Kilfenora will look after it, he’s been good to us. Very good.’ He forced himself to sound light, unworried, like she was creating a fuss where there was none.

The mention of Lord Kilfenora’s name seemed to throw Alex off track for a moment, but only for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was low, deadly serious ‘Dad, it is not going to sort itself out, and it’s not going to go away. If you can’t walk, you can’t work – you certainly can’t work on the estate. And if you can’t work then you’ve got nowhere to live. You’re effectively homeless because Sebastian Wingfield got slap happy with a shotgun.’

Tom shook his head. She could tell he wasn’t listening, was blocking out what she was saying.

‘
So Lord Kilfenora’s going to pay compensation is he? For loss of earnings and to get you settled in alterative accommodation?’

‘
We haven’t discussed anything like that. I just want to get better, then we can deal with the details.’

‘
The details? I don’t think they’re details Dad. More like fundamentals.’

‘
I know, I know, I’ll sort it out. I can look after myself you know.’

‘
Obviously.’ The word was loaded with sarcasm. He ignored it, was beginning to feel tired.

‘
Isn’t it time you went to a meeting or something?’ It sounded snappier than he’d intended.

‘
A meeting? Good God, you’re worse than Mum! Do you think if you bury your head in the sand you’ll wake up and everything will be all right, your leg will fix itself and everything can get back to normal?’

Tom’s face paled at the mention of his beloved Carmen, and for a split second Alex regretted bringing her mother into the conversation. But she had ignored her cancer, had ignored the symptoms, and if she’d been treated earlier, who knows what might have happened…

‘
You’re going to have to leave you know, leave the estate. You can move in with me in Dalkey when they let you out of here, but then we’re going to have to have a serious think about what you want to do.’

For a moment Tom looked dumbfounded. ‘Leave? Don’t be ridiculous girl.’

Alex shook her head. ‘You can’t work with a serious leg injury Dad, they need a fully fit gamekeeper – how many times have you said it’s a hard job, that if you weren’t fit, you’d never manage it? Well you’re not fit now, and they’re going to have to find someone who is, and that someone is going to have to live somewhere, aren’t they?’ Tom Ryan looked shocked, he hadn’t thought about the situation from that angle, hadn’t actually thought about it at all, his sole focus on his recovery. He pursed his lips as she continued, ‘They’ll have to pay compensation or we’ll have to sue.’

‘
What?’ Tom’s reaction was explosive, produced several accusing looks from across the ward.

‘
Well, what did you expect? Think about it. Loss of earnings and your home. You’re looking at tens of thousands. And unless Sebastian Wingfield agrees to pay up, we’ll have to go to court.’

‘
But he could be charged’

‘
With what?’

‘
Actual bodily harm, grievous bodily harm, I don’t know. It’s a legally-held shotgun but it’s not for shooting people is it?