Epilogue

So what do I end up doing? The answer is I end up deciding to hide the thing. Until I know what I’m going to actually do with it. So I go back into the gaff and I look under the stairs for something – I don’t even know what yet? My hands are literally shaking. And then I find a trowel. I have no idea why we own such a thing. I can only presume the old dear uses it to put on her foundation.

I pick it up and I take it down to the air-raid shelter, then I use it to scrape away the cement holding an entire section of bricks together – again, my hands trembling the entire time. I’m thinking, how the fock did the Feds not think to search this place? Maybe they didn’t know it was even here. Like I said, it was covered with bushes and the mad focker who built it in – I don’t know – the 1950s or something did it without actual planning permission.

It takes a good hour before I manage to pull about eight bricks out of the wall at sort of, like, chest height. I pick up the heater and I shove it through the hole. It drops on the other side, in the space between the inner and outer walls. I think it’s called a cavity.

I just put the bricks back roughly, obviously without using actual cement. Then I go back into the house, thinking, what do I do? How can I ever look her in the eye again? What if she finds out that I know? Would she kill me next? How can I ever look at her in the same way again?

I’m standing in the hallway, thinking, well, at least they’ve stopped riding upstairs. Then there’s suddenly a ring on the door and I end up nearly soiling myself again with the fright. For some reason, I stort to think it’s the Feds. But then I’m thinking, can she even be chorged with the same crime once she’s already been found not guilty? There’s a second ring and I think, fock it, I’m going to have to answer it. So I do.

It ends up being Sorcha.

The first line out of her mouth is, ‘Oh my God, Ross, are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!’

I’m like, ‘What?’

Then I watch her little nose doing its thing. She’s there, ‘Ross, did you … have you … wet yourself?’

And I go, ‘Er, no, I think it’s, er, damp here in the hallway … yeah, no, the gaff was empty for a long time … while my old dear was, you know …’

She smiles. She goes, ‘Oh my God, I was so pleased for her.’

I’m there, ‘Yeah, no, she got your flowers.’

‘I said it from day one that Fionnuala wasn’t capable of killing someone.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Ross, are you sure you’re okay? You’re actually white.’

‘Yeah, no, I’m just having a weird day … how are you?’

‘I’m much better now. Did you hear, Enda Kenny offered me a seat in the Seanad?’

‘The Seanad? He obviously thinks the world of you.’

I have no idea what the Seanad even does, but she seems to be definitely pleased.

She goes, ‘He wants to make me one of his nominees. He said he was impressed by the way I conducted myself during the election campaign.’

‘That’s, em, great.’

There’s, like, an awkward silence between us then?

‘Anyway,’ she goes, ‘there was a reason I wanted to talk to you.’

I’m there, ‘Okay?’

‘My dad had a letter from Hennessy this morning –’

‘Right.’

‘– saying you were going to be seeking joint custody.’

‘I miss the kids, Sorcha. Look, I know I acted like a dick, but not seeing my children is too big a price to pay. It’s too big a price.’

‘What if I told you there was no need to go to court? What if I told you I was happy to let you see the kids whenever you want?’

‘What? What would your old man say?’

‘This has nothing to do with him. This is my decision.’

‘What changed your mind?’

She sighs. I like that top on her – it really shows off her dugs.

‘Honor needs you,’ she goes. ‘And even though it pains me to say it, she doesn’t need me.’

I’m there, ‘There’s a definite bond between us.’

‘I thought my dad might serve that role. I hoped she’d develop the same relationship with him that I had as a little girl.’

‘She’s not a fan.’

‘I know. I genuinely think she could hurt him. I was looking at the search history on her laptop last night and …’

She doesn’t finish her sentence. I’m thinking, she possibly should warn him not to go taking any baths, but then I think, fock him.

I’m there, ‘I don’t think Honor is capable of actually hurting someone – other than, you know, mentally?’

‘I came to a terrible realization that day at the school,’ she goes. ‘My daughter doesn’t love me.’

‘I’m sure she does, Sorcha – deep, deep, deep, deep down.’

‘She doesn’t. You’re the one she loves. You’re the only one who can talk to her. And denying you access to her is only going to make things worse. So, as far as I can see, we have two options.’

‘What are they?’

‘Honor can either come and live with you here –’

‘I, er, don’t think that would be a good idea, Sorcha. I would have serious concerns about my old dear becoming a role model for her.’

‘– or you can move back to Honalee.’

She says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that for a good ten seconds I’m actually stunned? What a focking day this is turning out to be. Of course, I don’t even know the half of it yet.

I’m like, ‘Move back? Back in with you?’

She goes, ‘Back home, Ross.’

‘Jesus Christ, am I dreaming this? What about your old pair?’

‘The antagonism between Honor and my dad isn’t good for her, Ross. I’ve spoken to him and he’s agreed that it would be best all round if they found somewhere else to live.’

‘I can’t wait to see him again. Rub his focking nose in it.’

There’s another long silence before I eventually go, ‘So what about us?’

She’s like, ‘Ross, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you for sending those texts from my grandmother’s phone.’

‘I was just trying to get you to see that she was a homophobist bigot who believed all gay people go to Hell.’

‘I’m not offering you anything, Ross, other than the opportunity to be a father to your children …’

‘Right.’

‘… while I pursue my political career.’

‘Kind of like Bill and Hillary Clinton – a sort of, like, marriage of convenience?’

‘For you, Ross, it always has been a marriage of convenience.’

‘Okay, then – I’ll take it.’

I’m moving back home. I’m going to get to see my daughter all the time. I’m going to spend every minute of every day with my boys, slowly chipping away at their love of soccer and reintroducing them subtly to the game of rugby.

‘There’s one other thing you should know,’ she goes.

I’m like, ‘Yeah, no, shoot!’ thinking she’s going to tell me that she’s changed the alorm code, or she’s switched Internet providers.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she goes.

She says it as coolly as that. I just laugh. But then I realize, from her expression, that she’s actually serious.

I’m there, ‘That’s, er, random. And I’m saying random in a good way.’

She goes, ‘I thought you’d be angry.’

‘Why would I be angry? I mean, I’m presuming it’s mine.’

She looks at me like she’s just found a severed finger in her arugula salad. ‘How could it be yours?’ she goes. ‘You had a vasectomy.’

I’m like, ‘Okay, full disclosure. I didn’t.’

‘Excuse me?’

She’s pretty shocked, it has to be said.

I’m there, ‘Look, when it came to it, I couldn’t go through with it.’

She goes, ‘So you’re saying it could be yours?’

‘I’m saying I’m still firing live rounds, yeah.’

And that’s when it suddenly hits me – what she’s actually saying here?

I’m there, ‘Whoa, hang on a second – if it wasn’t mine, whose baby did you think it might be?’

She goes, ‘I only slept with him once, Ross. And we both realized it was a mistake. It was the night that Gran died.’

I’m like, ‘No, Sorcha. Please don’t say it. Don’t say his name.’

But she does. She says it anyway.

She goes, ‘Ross, I slept with Fionn.’