Bel woke to the sound of drumming. The insistent beat echoed the throbbing in her arm and her head. She knew what it was without opening her eyes. Rain. The Irish had so many types of rain: the soft misty drizzle that hung in the air, the wind-whipped sheets that infiltrated every garment, and the steady downpour that was pelting past her small window, stealing the light.
She wasn’t ready to get up and face this new day. The events of the night before weighed heavily, raw and disagreeable like undigested food. Tom’s drunken behaviour had been a nuisance, true, but nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. It was her mother who had tipped everything over the edge. It made her shudder to think about it. And Tom storming off with Clemmie, as though he were taking her hostage. Bel could still see the astonished open circle of her mouth as her father hoisted her up. She’d no idea what was happening – whether this was a game, a thrill or a punishment – and he hadn’t even stopped to put her shoes back on. Their last sight was of her feet waving in pink socks.
Bel and Julia had left immediately afterwards, Julia stalking ahead while Bel threw apologetic goodbyes to their hosts. Bel doubted she’d done it deliberately – sabotaging the get-together – but she couldn’t help wondering whether her mother was feeling a satisfying twinge of revenge. Which was why she didn’t want to get out of bed and face her. A row was almost inevitable. She toyed with the idea of ringing Matt, but that was likely to be problematic, given his warning yesterday. She didn’t want to allow him the satisfaction of ‘I told you so’. She eyed her phone, which lay just out of reach on the chest of drawers, then pulled the duvet over her head and burrowed beneath it. Maybe later.
The second time she woke, her mother was hovering at the end of the bed in a cagoule. ‘I’m going out,’ said Julia.
Bel shifted into a sitting position. ‘Where? And why? It’s pissing down.’
‘I can’t stay indoors. It’s too claustrophobic.’
She couldn’t help bursting out, ‘So, are you going to go and apologise to the Farrellys?’
‘Am I what?’
‘We were guests, Mum, at quite a significant birthday party. And you buggered it up.’
‘I broke up a fight. I didn’t break up a party.’
‘That’s not true! Look at the way you went after Tom. And his mother. I know you think that me and Dad are the mortifying members of our family, but last night was just awful to watch. Kieran was being really sweet and considerate; okay Tom was lashed, but so what? That’s what parties are for – to go a bit over the top and, yeah, act disgracefully too. You’re not usually such a spoilsport. And anyway, we were the visitors; we were the ones who should have been on our best behaviour. And then, what about Clemmie? The poor kid was enjoying herself, having a whale of a time and—’
‘Have you finished?’ said Julia.
‘Oh, Mum, please don’t go all formal and doctor-knows-best on me. Can’t you see it through their eyes?’
‘Can’t you see it through mine?’
Bel couldn’t backtrack. It was a failing she recognised in herself, but once she’d launched into something, even though she knew it could be hurtful, she had to see it through. ‘Last night was meant to be a celebration and we ruined it.’
‘Frankly, I don’t believe you and I are that important to those people.’
‘Are you sure? What about the memorial stone they put up? That seems massively important to me.’
‘The memorial was for William.’
‘It doesn’t mean you don’t matter too.’
The cagoule crackled, as if static electricity were building beneath it, like the grief in Julia’s voice: ‘I was wrong to come here. I can agree with you about that.’
‘Do you want to go back home then?’ said Bel, glancing at the window. ‘It’s real going-home weather, isn’t it?’ She made the suggestion as a peace offering, but she didn’t feel ready to leave. It would be a bit gross to walk out before trying to smooth things over. Like doing a midnight flit.
Julia said, ‘Let me think about it. D’you want to come out with me now?’
‘No thanks. I’ve got some calls to make. Phone calls,’ she added in case Julia thought she was going to steal the car, though in fact her mother was holding the keys.
‘I’ll see you later then.’
Julia didn’t say where she was going, but Bel guessed she would drive to the promontory overlooking the beach. She might not even get out of the driver’s seat. As the windscreen wipers carried on clacking from left to right she’d gaze at the grey swell of the ocean. And weep. Bel hardened herself against this image. She knew that if Julia was going to have a crying jag she’d rather do it in private. And it was probably what she needed: a good bout of wailing the way that women in other cultures considered perfectly normal. Cathartic.
It would be up to Bel to repair the damage done to relations between the two families. As soon as she heard the car engine start, she hopped out of bed, rescued her phone and returned to her nest of sheets. She clicked onto Tom’s number. It rang awhile before the answerphone kicked in but she was reluctant to leave a message or send a bald text. Mightn’t he be sleeping off a hangover?
She didn’t have the number of the farmhouse or she’d have rung Ronnie. It wouldn’t have been an easy conversation, but Bel would have managed it because, unlike her mother, she didn’t have too much pride. She wasn’t sure why, exactly. But she had discovered during school and adolescence that she didn’t mind making a fool of herself and that people who didn’t have an inflated sense of their own dignity generally had more fun. Obviously for anyone in authority – doctors, teachers, whatever – this could be a problem, but Bel had never wished for authority of any sort.
She tried Tom again and was greeted directly by his voicemail. Perhaps, if his phone was engaged, he was at this very moment trying to call Bel herself. She liked the idea of such a neat coincidence but knew it was far-fetched. She’d no choice but to get washed and dressed and have breakfast as slowly as possible before redialling. If she didn’t get hold of anyone, she was going to be marooned until her mother came back with the car.
Once parcelled into leggings and an outsize jumper, she sat at the table with a mug of steaming black coffee. The yellow tulips bowed from their vase in front of her in a sunny arc. They brought Kieran to mind and her pulse skipped a little faster. Was that a crack of blue in the sky? Could the clouds be lifting? She clicked open her phone and rang Tom a third time. A voice said, ‘Hello?’
‘Tom?’
‘No, this is Kieran.’
‘Oh, Kieran, wow, I’m so glad to get hold of you. I don’t have your number but I’ve been trying this one for ages. I wanted to say how sorry I am about last night. I hope we didn’t screw things up too much…’ Suddenly she thought, why is he answering his brother’s phone, what’s going on? ‘So where are you? Is Tom there too?
‘Is that Bel?’
‘Oh Lord, I should have said. Yes, it’s me. I’m all over the place this morning, but you should know I didn’t mean to run out on you. You mustn’t think we were ratting off. I hope you were able to carry on with the party?’
‘In a manner of speaking. My dad was having grand craic with his cronies and he wasn’t going to be interrupted by a bit of bother between your mother and mine.’
‘So what happened to Tom?’
‘Well we didn’t realise it until too late, but he didn’t get far.’
She’d been taking a sip of coffee but it scalded her tongue and she set the cup down. ‘Meaning?’
‘He should have taken a taxi,’ said Kieran, a weary resignation in his voice. ‘He was a danger to himself and other people.’
‘He didn’t try to drive your car?’
‘No. But it turned out he still had the keys to my mother’s old crock. He’d brought her over in it and we’d planned to pick it up in the morning. It’s not fit to be driven in the dark, even if you’re sober. He lost control when he swerved to avoid an oncoming car and ran off the road into the ditch.’
‘And… and is he all right?’
‘They don’t know yet.’
Bel felt a terrible chill. There had been an accident. How could she not be responsible? If she hadn’t gone to the party, if Julia hadn’t thought she was fighting Tom off when in fact she was just trying to calm him down, if she’d been upfront about her fall instead of trying to gloss over it, if… ‘So, are you with him? I mean, if you have his phone…’
‘I’m in Tralee,’ said Kieran. ‘The doctors are doing what they can. I’m outside the hospital having a smoke before I go over to the garda to give them a statement. They tested his blood for alcohol and they’ll be getting the results shortly. And if I’m sounding tired it’s because I haven’t slept all night.’
She deduced from what he was saying that Tom was unconscious, his injuries not yet quantified, but if the police were gathering the evidence for a prosecution they must be expecting him to pull through. She heard the snap of a match, a sharp intake of breath and then a tinny beep.
‘Either that,’ he was saying, ‘or the battery on this phone is going.’
‘I’m stuck here right now,’ Bel said, ‘because Mum’s gone out in the car, but when she gets back, what do you think, should we come over to the hospital? I’d like to do something useful. To help out.’
She couldn’t catch his reply; the words were indistinct. She was full of remorse and self-righteousness, preparing to make amends, to spur Julia into action when she returned. Then she realised there was a question she hadn’t yet asked. ‘And Clemmie? You didn’t say anything about Clemmie. Is she there too? Kieran…? Kieran…’
She took the mobile from her ear and shook it but it made no difference. She had lost him.