Patricia was at the kitchen table, having dinner with Bobby. She said, ‘You’re late.’
‘I’ve been busy saving Ulster.’
I took a seat. I nodded at the boy. ‘Good day?’ He shrugged. ‘How’s Joe?’
‘All right.’
Trish got up and pushed the timer on the microwave. While she waited, she came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. Then she said: ‘You’ve washed your hair.’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘I mean, very recently.’
‘Yes, indeed I have.’
‘You never do that.’
‘I thought I’d have a shower before I came to see you. Is that a crime?’
Her eyes narrowed. The microwave pinged. She turned to get my food. As she set the plate down before me, Bobby said, ‘Did you speak to the Millers?’
‘Yes. I told Patricia. Didn’t you tell him?’
‘I told him,’ said Trish.
‘I want to hear it from you. She hardly said anything.’
‘I’m not she,’ said Trish.
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ I said. ‘We had a full and frank exchange of views. We’re working something out.’
‘For definite?’
‘I’ll know tomorrow.’
‘What are they like?’
‘You’ve never met them?’ Bobby shook his head. ‘Depressingly ordinary. But all the scarier for it.’
‘You were scared?’
‘Apprehensive.’
‘When can I go home?’
‘Bobby, I’m not sure that home home is an option. One of your relatives, maybe.’
‘Okay.’ He nodded to himself. ‘Uncle Sidney. He’s less of a dick than the others. I’ll maybe see him at the funeral.’
My eyes darted to Trish, and he noticed it.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ I said.
‘It’s something. I’m going. They can’t stop me going to my own mother’s funeral. You can’t either. I don’t give a fuck who sees me. They wouldn’t dare try anything there. I’m going. I’m bloody going.’
‘Bobby,’ said Trish.
‘If I have to go in disguise or something, then I can do that. Just get me there. When is it?’
He looked absolutely stunned.
‘You’re fuckin’ jokin’.’
‘No,’ I said.
‘It wasn’t safe for you to go,’ said Trish. ‘Bobby . . .’ She put her hand on his. He jerked it away and jumped up. His chair toppled backwards.
‘Are you fuckin’ serious?’
‘Bobby,’ said Trish, ‘please, calm down. I know it’s heartbreaking, but it just wasn’t an option.’
‘It just wasn’t an option,’ he mimicked. ‘Do you think I care about that? I shoulda fuckin’ been there!’
‘I know that, son, but—’
‘I’m not your fuckin’ son! How could you do that to me? I’m sitting here playin’ fuckin Xbox and they’re stickin’ my ma in the ground?’
‘Cremated,’ I said.
‘Jesus Christ!’
‘We didn’t hear till late on, Bobby,’ I said. ‘Remember, nobody knows where you are.’
‘I should have been there!’
‘Bobby,’ I said, ‘they didn’t want you there.’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
He looked mad, and cornered, and distraught, all in one.
‘It wasn’t just about keeping you safe,’ said Patricia. ‘It was your relatives. They were concerned for their own safety.’
His eyes squeezed up. ‘No, they . . .’
‘Bobby,’ I said, ‘the Millers would have had people there watching for you; if you’d shown, there could have been a bloodbath. They thought it better . . .’
Trish reached down and righted the chair. ‘Please.’
He stared at it. He was trying desperately hard not to cry.
‘I should have been there,’ he said.
‘Yes, you should,’ said Trish. ‘And maybe after this all dies down, you can have another service. In the meantime, we’ll get the ashes; perhaps we can go and scatter them somewhere.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Anywhere you want, apart from the Shankill.’
She gave me a look.
Bobby was shaking his head. Trish tried to reach out to him again, but he brushed her away and started for the door.
‘Bobby, please . . . where are you going?’ Trish asked.
‘What the fuck do you care? You two? Youse are both just a bunch of fuckers.’
He clumped up the stairs. A few moments later he slammed his bedroom door.
Trish said: ‘He may have a point.’
She got us drinks.
She said, ‘I could only tell him what you told me, but he’s right, that wasn’t the half of it, was it? What else happened today?’
‘Trish, I’m not like you, I can’t remember every word of every conversation I’ve ever had. I gave you the concise version because that’s all I retain.’
I hadn’t told her about Paddy Barr, or Derek Beattie, or DI Springer and the teeth, I hadn’t mentioned that Maxi was no longer protecting me or that I was now leader of the UVF and held sway over our government. There was no need to trouble her with such detail. It didn’t matter anyway, because she had bigger fish to fry.
‘Who is she?’
‘Who is who?’
‘The woman you have showers for in the afternoon.’
‘That would be you.’
‘Let me rephrase. Who is the woman you have sex with in the afternoon, so that you then have to have a shower to wash her fucking smell off you before you come to see me.’
‘Trish, for fucksake, take a wild leap in the dark there.’
‘Bobby told me there was a woman in your flat.’
‘Did he really? I thought he was against squealers?’
‘Who is she, Dan?’
‘She is the manager of the apartment block. She came round because someone’s been throwing pizza on to my veranda every night and I put a complaint in. Okay? All right? Am I not allowed to even talk to other women now?’
‘Are you sleeping with her, Dan?’
‘No, Jesus! How’s that ever going to win you back?’
‘Is that what you’re trying to do, win me back?’
‘Yes! Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Not really, no.’
‘Aw, Trish.’
I moved closer. I opened my arms. She hesitated, and then stepped into them.
Her head rested against my chest. She said, ‘This is all going to work out, with Bobby, isn’t it?’
‘You wouldn’t just say that to make me feel better, would you?’
‘Of course I would.’
The shake of her shoulders told me she was laughing. She put a fist against my chest, right by her nose, and pushed a knuckle into me.
‘We keep doing this, over, and over, and over again; it’s like a roundabout we can’t get off.’
‘A magic roundabout,’ I said.
Years ago we used to have what we called a magic settee, because every time we sat on it we ended up making love. It had been reupholstered several times since, and finally thrown out as a potential fire hazard.
‘If you say time for bed, Florence, you’re getting a friggin’ diggin’,’ she purred.
I stroked her hair with the back of my hand. I had taken the thick bandage off before my shower. I was, effectively, rubbing a soft scab up and down her locks.
‘Now that you mention it . . .’