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Authors: Peter Murphy

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BOOK: Wandering in Exile
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“Five thousand pounds.”

“Holy shit! We should have them over more often.”

“Danny. That’s very mercantile of you.”

“What? I’ve been putting up with their shite all my life. It’s about time I got something good from them.”

11
1987

After a few months it hadn’t gotten any better. Rushing out of the house every morning was a strain on them all. Except little Martin. He got up by himself and joined Danny in the bathroom while Deirdre negotiated with Grainne. She was almost a year old and had begun to verbalize—a steady stream of ‘no, no, no,’ no matter what Deirdre coaxed her with. She refused to have her hair brushed and cried when her pajamas were removed. So many mornings, Deirdre was tempted to just slip something over them but she couldn’t. The staff at the daycare had already politely pointed out that Grainne was always fussy in the morning and was taking a long time to settle in.

The daycare was in the university and all the other children were models of good behavior. Some were beginning to make full sentences, even those who were only weeks or a month older than Grainne. And most of the other little girls looked as serene as their mothers, who could drop off their kids without a shred of guilt. Grainne would cling to Deirdre’s leg and cry ‘no’ until one of the staff had to pry her away.

“Don’t worry, Mummy,” Martin would assure her as she kissed him good-bye. “She really has a good time here—only she doesn’t know how to say it yet. Besides, she just has to get used to other kids.”

“Thank you, Martin. That’s so nice of you to say.”

He always kissed her before he wandered off to hang his coat, smiling and talking with all the other kids. It was the only part of their morning routine that was bearable.

When she did speak to Danny about it, he just looked like she was making things unnecessarily complicated. “If it’s too soon, you can always quit and stay at home for another year or so. We’ll find a way to manage.” And that was what she was afraid of. Jacinta hadn’t let it go and when Danny called, she’d spend far too long telling him about how well things were going for them back home. “I wish she would just let it drop,” was her exasperated response when Danny would relay all that was said. Deirdre always made herself look too busy whenever Danny motioned to her with the phone. He’d look pleading at her but she wouldn’t. She never made him talk to her parents—not that her father was ready for it. But at least, now, when he asked after the kids, he’d ask after their father too.

“She doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just trying to be kind.”

“You don’t think we should, do you?”

He smiled when she asked him that, when they got to be alone for the first time all day in their almost-finished kitchen. They hadn’t got around to painting yet. They should have done it when the drywall was finished but they had waited for so long that Deirdre had gone ahead and started using it. Danny thought that was a bit impulsive of her.

“Sometimes,” he said as he ducked into the fridge and emerged with a beer, “I think about our kids growing up all Canadian and that makes me a bit conflicted.” He opened the beer and reached for her and pulled her close to him. They hadn’t in so long. “But then I remember what it was like growing up Irish.”

He shivered dramatically until she laughed along with him, and then took a swig. “She’s just being a mother. You know what that’s like.”

“Danny?” She let him pull her tighter until they were rubbing together. He had been bugging her for sex and she might tonight, if he’d do her a favor. “What would you think about dropping the kids off—instead of me?”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. It’s almost on my way.”

“Grainne can get a bit fussy.”

“She’ll be fine.” He was nuzzling her ears and the cold beer was pressed between them, tingling against her skin.

*
*
*

A few weeks later, she got a call from the Center. Martin had hit another kid and she had to go in to talk about it. He’d been acting out for a while. At first he was just a bit sullen but he was beginning to show signs of aggression and the staff had concerns about that. They gave Deirdre some pamphlets to look over and, as it was a Friday, they could all spend the weekend helping Martin to come to terms with whatever it was that was upsetting him.

Deirdre expected him to be a little more taciturn. She had noticed a change in him, too, and had been meaning to talk with him about it but she hadn’t been able to find the time.

“Well, Martin. Do you have anything to say before we pick up your sister and go home?”

“I don’t like when Daddy drops us off. I want you to do it again.”

“Oh, pet.” She hunkered down so she could look into his big wet eyes. “Mammy is so busy right now.” He didn’t say anything and was about to lower his head. “But maybe, Mammy and Daddy will take turns?”

*
*
*

“I don’t see why it’s a big deal, Deirdre. I think he’s just being a mammy’s-boy. He’ll get over it—we all have to.”

“I don’t want it to be like that for him. I don’t want anyone to rush him through his childhood.”

“He’ll be fine. You’re getting worried about nothing.”

He took her in his arms again but she was far too tired. And she was still feeling guilty toward Martin. She wanted to go in and read to him before he fell asleep. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because he has you for a mother.”

He leaned in but she pushed him away. “I’m going to say good night to him. Would you tuck ‘Carrie’ in?”

“Don’t be calling her that. She’ll get a complex.”

“She’ll be fine. She has you for a father.”

She let him kiss her before he went into their bedroom and sat by Grainne’s cot. Danny was anxious to move her into her own room but it wasn’t finished yet. Deirdre never pestered him about it though. She wasn’t ready to have her baby so far away from her. Grainne was still feeding through the night.

She read
The Cat in the Hat
to Martin while listening to Danny singing softly in the other room.

O, Father dear, I oft times heard you talk of Erin’s Isle
Her valleys green, her lofty scene, her mountains rude and wild
You said it was a pleasant place wherein a prince might dwell
Why have you then forsaken her, the reason to me tell?

She even stopped reading so they could all listen, drifting off as the verses continued.

My son, I loved our native land with energy and pride
Until a blight fell on the land and sheep and cattle died
The rents and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem
And that’s the cruel reason why I left Old Skibbereen
It’s well I do remember on a bleak November’s day
The landlord and his agent came to drive us all away
He set my house on fire with his demon yellow spleen
And that’s another reason why I left Old Skibbereen
Your mother, too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground
She fainted in her anguish of the desolation round
She never rose, but went her way from life to death’s long dream
And found a quiet grave, my boy, in lovely Skibbereen
It’s well I do remember the year of forty-eight
When we arose with Erin’s boys to fight against our fate
I was hunted through the mountains as a traitor to the Queen
And that’s another reason that I left Old Skibbereen
Oh father dear, the day will come when vengeance loud will call
And we’ll arise with Erin’s boys and rally one and all
I’ll be the man to lead the van, beneath our flag of green
And loud and high we’ll raise the cry, ‘Revenge for Skibbereen!’

She woke up a few hours later with the book still in hand. Martin was sleeping soundly with the hint of a smile on face. She checked on Grainne, too, sleeping silently. For the first time since she could remember, the house was peaceful. She almost made a wish that it might last as she rose and got ready for bed.

She peeled off her makeup and brushed out her hair. It was far too long but she couldn’t cut it until her face didn’t look so fat anymore. Maybe after she lost a few more pounds, and maybe change the color a bit—anything so she didn’t look so tired all the time.

“Danny?” She called as she turned off the hallway lights. “Are you coming to bed?”

He didn’t answer so she went to rouse him. He had fallen asleep, listening to
The Joshua Tree
, sprawled in his chair with five empty beer bottles on the table in front of him.

*
*
*

“Okay then, Grainne and I will go with my parents, and you and Daddy will go with Granddad Jerry.”

“Yippee.” Martin ran off into Jerry’s arms and was twirled up in the air. They had gone back to Dublin for his fiftieth birthday.

“Don’t be doing that to the child. He’s just flown half-way around the world,” Jacinta chided as she handed Grainne back to Deirdre. “She’s gorgeous. She’s the image of you. Don’t you think so, Mrs. Fallon?” But she didn’t wait for the other woman to answer. “Jerry, put that child down and go get the car.

“He’s been like a kid since he heard little Martin was coming over,” she complained. “It’s been nothing but ‘wait ’til I show him this’ or ‘wait ‘til I bring him to the zoo.’ I told him not to say that in front of Danny as we don’t want to have a repeat of the last time.” She waited until Deirdre nodded in agreement before asking, “And how are you managing?”

“I’m fine. Getting back to work was a bit of a strain.”

“Sure don’t I know? Danny’s been telling me all about it.”

She smiled knowingly and headed off to get in the car before Deirdre could answer.

“Here. Let me hold the little angel while you get in the car,” her mother said and stepped in front of her. “Isn’t she lovely, Dermot? She’s the image of Deirdre—at that age.”

Her father did stop and look for a moment and nearly smiled. “C’mon.” he held the car doors open. “Let’s be getting home so the Boyles are not sitting outside waiting for us.”

“There’s no fear of that,” Deirdre heard her mother whisper as she climbed inside.

Even though it was Jerry’s birthday, she thought Danny and Deirdre should stay with her for the first few days and then, if Deirdre didn’t want to change, she could say the baby was settled and it might be better to let her be. She balanced it by hosting a dinner for them all—with wine and all. Deirdre stressed that part to Danny and even Jacinta seemed to think it was fair.

*
*
*

“But little Martin is going to stay with us?” she asked Danny as they drove away with Deirdre’s father’s car following. “And you, too. You know Fallon still blames you for everything.”

“He doesn’t. Not anymore. Deirdre says he’s changed.”

“I hope you’re right, son. That’s all that I can say.”

“Is Granddad Fallon mean, Granddad Jerry?”

“No. I wouldn’t say that about him.”

“I think he is. When Mammy phones, she makes me talk to him.”

“Does she have to make you talk to me too?”

“No! Granddad Jerry, you’re silly. You’re my friend.”

Jerry made a face and waggled his thumbs in his ears—the way they had practiced after watching the elephants the summer he was over in Canada.

“Jazus, Jerry, keep your hands on the wheel. Fallon is just behind us and he’ll report you for dangerous driving.”

“Ma,” Danny nodded toward the front seat where Martin sat with the seat belt draped loosely around him. Danny wanted him to sit in the back but his father and his son were conspiring against him.

His mother tried to soothe it over. “It’s probably better if he knows what he’s really like before we get there—so it’s not such a shock.”

“He’ll hear you, Ma.”

“He will not. They don’t listen when they are that small.”

He took a long look at her but she turned away.

*
*
*

“I don’t like the way that eejit is driving. And with my grandson in the car too.”

“Oh, he’s your grandson now.”

“Mam?” Deirdre tried to deflect her but her mother was changed. She was never going to let him push his way around the house again. “For years I’ve put up with it. I’m tired of tippy-toeing around in my own house,” she had complained over the phone a few weeks back. She had grown impatient waiting to know if he’d be civil when they visited. “I told him too. I sat him down one night and poured him a shot of whiskey—so he wouldn’t be so prickly—and I told him straight.”

*
**
*

“What did he say?”

“He said nothing. He just sat there looking gob-smacked.”

“Oh, Mam. And you were always the one going on about always doing the right thing.”

“It was the right thing, dear. He’s much easier to get along with now—only he likes to feel a bit sorry for himself.”

*
***
*

“Don’t worry, Dee,” her father turned and smiled like she hadn’t seen him do before. She never remembered him ever calling her ‘Dee’ either. She liked it. “Your mother has become a real women’s libber, but you know me. I’m nothing if I’m not tolerant and open minded.”

“Since when, Daddy?” He seemed almost . . . vulnerable.

“We all change, Dee. We all get older and wiser.”

“Help,” Deirdre pretended to shout. “My father has been abducted by aliens.”

But she said it too loud and woke Grainne, who hadn’t slept on the plane. It was such a bad time to fly; she was still teething and was more flustery than usual.

“Ah, now. The poor little one is crying again. Here, give her over to me so you can relax a bit.”

As soon as her mother took her, Grainne stopped crying and began to gurgle. Deirdre should have been happy with that, but she couldn’t help it and began to cry.

“What’s the matter?” her father checked briefly in the mirror. “Are you all right there, Dee?”

“Of course she’s all right. She just got off the plane and she’s worn out. She’ll be fine as soon as we get home. Maybe you should overtake them and we can get on home before them.”

“You’re right there, missus.” He accelerated and swung around the Boyle’s car, waving at his grandson as he passed.

“So have you set your scheme in motion?” Deirdre’s mother seemed a little indignant.

“Don’t be calling it that. We’re family now and I’m just going to ask him for a favor. He can say ‘no’ if he likes.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way of making that very hard for him.”

BOOK: Wandering in Exile
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