Jackie watched the curls of smoke from her cigarette spread out over the steps. She said, “So are all of us in bits. Ashley is as well, and she’s only six. That’s life, sure. You were worried Holly wasn’t getting enough real stuff, were you not? I’d say this is as real as it gets.”
Which was probably true, but being right is beside the point when it’s Holly on the line. I said, “If my kid needs an extra dose of reality here and there, babe, I generally prefer to make that call myself. Or at least to be notified before someone else makes it for me. Does that sound unreasonable to you?”
Jackie said, “I should’ve told you. There’s no excuse for that.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I was always meaning to, honest to God, but… At first I figured there was no point in getting you all bothered, when it mightn’t even work out. I thought I’d just try bringing Holly the once, and then we could tell you after-”
“And I’d realize what a wonderful idea it was, I’d come running home with a big bunch of flowers for Ma in one hand and another one for you in the other, and we’d all throw a big party and live happily ever after. Was that the plan?”
She shrugged. Her shoulders were starting to ratchet up around her ears.
“Because God knows that would have been slimy enough, but it would’ve been a hell of a lot better than this. What changed your mind? For, and I have to pick up my jaw off the floor before I can say this, an entire year?”
Jackie still wouldn’t look at me. She shifted on the step, like it was hurting her. “Don’t be laughing at me, now.”
“Believe me, Jackie. I’m not in a giggly mood.”
She said, “I was frightened. All right? That’s why I said nothing.”
It took me a moment to be sure she wasn’t yanking my chain. “Oh, come on. What the fuck did you think I was going to do? Beat the shite out of you?”
“I didn’t say-”
“Then what? You can’t drop a bleeding bombshell like that and then go all coy. When have I ever in my life given you any reason to be scared of me?”
“Look at you now, sure! The face on you, and talking like you hate my guts-I don’t like people giving out and shouting and going ballistic. I never have. You know that.”
I said, before I could stop myself, “You make me sound like Da.”
“Ah, no. No, Francis. You know I didn’t mean that.”
“You’d better not. Don’t go down that road, Jackie.”
“I’m not. I just… I hadn’t the nerve to tell you. And that’s my own fault, not yours. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry, like.”
Above us, a window slammed open and Ma’s head popped out. “Jacinta Mackey! Are you going to sit there like the queen of Sheba waiting for me and your sister to put your supper in front of you on a gold plate, are you?”
I called up, “It’s my fault, Ma. I dragged her out for a chat. We’ll do the washing up after, how’s that?”
“Hmf. Coming back here like he owns the place, giving orders all round him, with his silver polishing and his washing up and butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth…” But she didn’t want to give me too much hassle, in case I grabbed Holly and left. She pulled her head back in, even though I could hear her giving out steadily till the window banged down.
The Place was starting to switch on the lights for the evening. We weren’t the only ones who had hit the Christmas decorations hard; the Hearnes’ looked like someone had fired Santa’s grotto at it out of a bazooka, tinsel and reindeer and flashing lights hanging off the ceiling, manic elves and gooey-eyed angels splattered across every visible inch of wall, “HAPPY XMAS” on the window in spray-on snow. Even the yuppies had put up a tasteful stylized tree in blond wood, complete with three Swedish-looking ornaments.
I thought about coming back to this same spot every Sunday evening, watching the Place move through the familiar rhythms of its year. Spring, and the First Communion kids running from house to house, showing off their outfits and comparing their hauls; summer wind, ice-cream vans jingling and all the girls letting their cleavage out to play; admiring the Hearnes’ new reindeer this time next year, and the year after that. The thought made me mildly dizzy, like I was half drunk or fighting a heavy dose of the flu. Presumably Ma would find something new to give out about every week.
“Francis,” Jackie said, tentatively. “Are we all right?”
I had had a first-class rant all planned out, but the thought of belonging here again had dissolved the momentum right out of me. First Olivia and now this: I was getting soft in my old age. “Yeah,” I said. “We’re OK. But when you have kids, I’m buying every one of them a drum kit and a St. Bernard puppy.”
Jackie shot me a quick wary look-she hadn’t been expecting to get off that easy-but she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Away you go. When I throw them out of the house, I’ll give them your address.”
