A Time for Friends (15 page)

‘Yes, Mother,’ Jonathan saluted.

‘She’s a sweetheart, Jonathan. She idolizes you.’ Kenny cleared the table.

‘I know. She’s the best. And I’m glad I never told her what happened. She’s contented with her life now and I want it to stay like that.’

‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,’ Russell said quietly. ‘Although I think she would be very supportive of you. More than mine was,’ he added with a
hint of bitterness.

‘Oh! What happened, or do you prefer not to talk about it?’ Jonathan ventured, placing the saucepans into the dishwasher.

‘I told my mother one of the Christian Brothers was making me touch him on his privates and I got a hard clip around the ear and was told not to tell filthy lies about a holy man. She
never forgave me for it either and often asked me had I told the priest in confession that I’d been telling lies.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Jonathan said sombrely.

‘She couldn’t believe that a “man of God” would do such things. The Church is sacrosanct in her eyes. All this talk of abuse is the work of the devil to bring down the
Church, that’s what she told me a while back. There’s no point in going there. She believes what she wants to believe and she certainly doesn’t believe me.’ Russell’s
face darkened.

‘Do you go to counselling?’

‘Indeed I do. What would we all do without Hannah?’

‘Aw she’s amazing. She makes you feel so good about yourself. She’s at a conference in Birmingham this weekend but I’ve booked an appointment next week.’ Jonathan
wiped down the countertop vigorously wishing he could wipe away his past as easily.

‘Well, the only thing that gives me any satisfaction is that I frightened the shite out of the old cockroach before he died. I met him on the street and of course he didn’t recognize
me, but I told him who I was and he
still
didn’t remember me. Can you believe that?’ Russell grimaced. ‘I was of no consequence to him at all. The fact that he ruined my
childhood was not a consideration in this “man of God’s” life. I could have clocked him. I nearly did actually. Anyway I told him I was reporting his abuse to the guards and I
told him he’d want to watch over his shoulder wherever he went out because one day myself and some of the other lads he abused were going to get him and bring him somewhere quiet and beat the
living daylights out of him. He wasn’t so brave and omnipotent then, I can tell you. He nearly scuttered himself and couldn’t get away quick enough. Died of a stroke two months
later.’

‘Nice one, mate!’ Jonathan approved. ‘I’d always
planned
to confront Higgins. I used to imagine all the things I’d say to him. I used to imagine how
terrified he’d be of going to prison but I could never bring myself to do it. I kept putting it off and now he’s gone and kicked the bucket, the dirty louser.’

‘Forget about him, he has to meet his maker. And after what he’s done, rather him than you or me,’ Russell advised, patting him on the back affectionately.

You have to meet your maker
! The words went round and round in Jonathan’s head as he stood outside in the rain holding an umbrella over his mother while they watched Gus
Higgins’s coffin being wheeled from the hearse to the door of the church to be welcomed by the priest.

He thought he would feel more emotion but mostly what he felt was numbness throughout the short service. It surprised him, especially after the grief and rage he had felt in the previous
twenty-four hours since hearing the news of his neighbour’s demise. Perhaps it had been good to go through those emotions then instead of having them surging through him in public and having
to try and stay composed, he mused as the soloist sang ‘Nearer My God To Thee’. At the end of the service a sudden unexpected emotion churned his gut and he felt queasy again. He knew
he was going to have to walk past the coffin of his hated abuser. He had a fierce longing to give the coffin a good kick. That would cause a fair bit of scandal around the place, he reflected with
dark humour, imagining what the neighbours would say if he gave in to his urges.

He followed his mother and sisters up the aisle to pay his respects to Rita and her daughters and never glanced at the coffin, keeping his eyes firmly focused on the arrangement of roses and
lilac on the altar. He even managed a sympathetic smile when Rita thanked him for coming. Jonathan had often wondered if Gus’s wife had any idea what her husband got up to in her absence, but
she had always been open and friendly with Jonathan whenever she saw him and he didn’t think she could have been that good an actress. She seemed genuinely grieved at the loss of her husband,
which vaguely astonished him as Gus was a loud, lazy, dictatorial couch potato and he couldn’t for the life of him see why anyone would miss him and grieve for him.

He felt a huge sense of relief when he finished shaking the bereaved family’s hands and reached the end of the pew. He followed Nancy down the aisle towards the door of the church, and
freedom.

‘We’re going to head back to Dublin now, Mam,’ Jonathan said when they emerged out into the daylight. The rain had stopped and the evening sun was flirting with the clouds.

‘Ah could you not come back for a quick cuppa with the girls?’ Nancy urged.

‘I could get a cup of tea,’ Kenny said easily. ‘A quick one, Jonathan, for the road.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Russell agreed.

‘Right, I’ll go with Rachel and I’ll have the kettle boiled in no time and I have a fresh cream sponge to go with it,’ Nancy said happily, tucking her hand into her
eldest daughter’s arm.

‘Home-made cream sponge, I’m in heaven.’ Russell rubbed his hands together and Jonathan began to relax now that the stress of the dreaded ordeal was over. He was glad
he’d gone to the removal, he thought as he sat in the kitchen drinking tea with his family and friends. The girls were laughing at Russell’s camp humour and he didn’t feel he had
to make an effort to make conversation.

He had triumphed over his fears and apprehensions and faced up to his past and it hadn’t been as hard as he’d thought it would be, thanks to the support of his companions. And he
hadn’t let his mother down.
That
gave him great satisfaction. Nancy was the best mother anyone could wish for. She had made his friends so welcome and had served up a feast at no
notice at all. He was fiercely glad she had no knowledge of what had happened to him, he thought gratefully, watching her chuckling at Rachel’s good-natured teasing. He had
chosen
never to tell her. For him it was a good choice, he knew. Hannah was right: knowing you had choices in the decisions you made was very empowering.

‘You’re a great lad, Jonathan, thanks for coming and it was lovely to meet Kenny again and Russell is a grand chap.’ Nancy hugged him tightly when they made their move to go.
‘Don’t be strangers now, you and Russell,’ she said to Kenny, following them to the garden gate. ‘And if you could find a nice fella for Jonathan, so that he could be as
happy as you and Russell are, I’d go to my grave contented,’ she added matter-of-factly to Kenny.

‘Leave it to us, Mrs Harpur,’ Russell assured her while Jonathan stared at his mother, gobsmacked.

‘Go and find yourself someone like Russell or Kenny here, Jonathan. We all need love in our lives,’ his mother advised, leaning on the gate. ‘Safe journey now.’ Nancy
waved at them as Kenny started the engine. She blew them a kiss and Jonathan rolled down the window and waved back at her until they turned left at the top of the road and she was out of sight.

‘And there was me afraid to let you introduce me as your partner, Kenny,’ Russell chuckled.

‘Pick your jaw off the ground, Jonathan. Mothers
always
know and always want you to know that they know! She wants you to be happy, so go on . . . be happy.’ Kenny laughed
over his shoulder at Jonathan’s stunned expression.

Jonathan stared out at the tree-lined, winding country roads he had travelled as a child and knew that this chapter of his life was over. It was time to move on and let the past go. He had a lot
to look forward to. And his mother would welcome his partner if he was ever lucky enough to find one. Where he had thought there might be hurdles, there were none, he thought ruefully when the car
picked up speed, leaving Rosslara behind them.

He had to do it. Jonathan knew if he didn’t he’d feel he’d let himself down for the rest of his life. It was bad enough that he felt he’d wimped out
with Gus Higgins; he couldn’t let the feeling of being a coward eat away at him a second time in his life.

‘If I faint drag me out,’ he murmured to his friend and colleague, Mary Helen.

‘Why, what are you going to do?’ she asked, perplexed, as he pushed back his chair and stood up.

‘Watch!’ he grimaced. They were in the staff canteen and the sun, shining through the big old-fashioned sash windows, added to the buzz of chat and conviviality of the mid-morning
tea break. Jonathan took a deep breath and walked over to the adjoining table where Gerard was holding forth. ‘Mr Hook, I’d like a word.’ His voice was admirably steady. He had
thought he would be quaking but a strange calm seemed to have enveloped him.

‘I’m on my tea break. It can wait until we’re back at work,’ his boss said rudely, casting a wary glance at him.

‘Actually, Mr Hook, it won’t,’ Jonathan said firmly, raising his voice an octave as a hush descended on the people at the two tables. ‘Last Thursday when I was on my tea
break you spoke to me in very derogatory terms. I told you that if it happened again I would report you to Personnel. Having given the matter,
and
your vile remarks, some consideration
over the weekend, I would now like you to apologize to me here, in the canteen, where you originally made those remarks in the presence of my colleagues and others.’ He stared at the man in
front of him, willing himself to remain composed.

‘Now, now, now, there’s no need for that kind of thing. If your feelings were hurt it wasn’t meant,’ bristled Gerard as an audible gasp came from Jonathan’s
workmates.

‘I beg to differ. You
did
mean what you said and you
did
mean to belittle me. Your apology, please, or I will go to Personnel
and
the union!’ Jonathan said
icily, enjoying the other man’s discomfort.

Gerard blanched. He wanted no truck with the union. ‘Very well then,’ he muttered, almost inaudible. ‘Sorry.’

‘I don’t think my colleagues heard that,’ Jonathan said coldly.

‘Sorry,’ Gerard barked angrily.

‘Apology accepted,’ Jonathan retorted and turned on his heel to walk back to his table. Mary Helen was grinning from ear to ear. Aidan Corrigan gave him the thumbs-up and began to
clap. His other colleagues followed suit as, beet red, he sat back down beside them.

‘Well done. I’m proud of ya, Harps.’ Mary Helen patted him on the back.

‘Good on you, Jon,’ said Aidan.

‘Very well said,’ applauded Laura.

‘That will teach him.’ Maria held her mug up in toast.

‘He’s puce,’ giggled Rebecca.

‘Good enough for him,’ snapped Tara.

‘Way to go, mate.’ Matthew gave him a high-five.

Jonathan basked in the glow of their praise. He might not have settled his score with Gus Higgins
mano a mano
but he’d got a public apology from Gerard Hook. He’d faced down
another bully. Whatever his boss might think, Jonathan was more of a man than he’d
ever
be.

Today was a good day. He’d ring Hilary and tell her what he’d done. She’d be pleased for him. And so would Orla. His next session with Hannah would be interesting too. His
counsellor made him think outside the box, that was for sure, he thought ruefully, remembering how Hannah had responded when he’d said that he didn’t think much of a God who would allow
such terrible things to happen to his so-called children.

‘God, the Universe, Our Source, or whatever you choose to call the loving energy that created us, has given us the freedom of choice to make our own decisions about how we live our lives.
We cannot blame “God” for man’s inhumanity to man. But the immutable laws of the Universe are very clear – and this has nothing to do with religion – every deed or
thought we put out comes back to us. Good or bad. Everything is perfectly balanced. As Edwin Markham’s classic quote says,
There is a destiny that makes us brothers; no one goes his way
alone. All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.’

‘Do unto others what you would have them do unto you,’ Jonathan said gloomily, remembering the biblical quote from his catechism.

‘That’s another way of putting it,’ Hannah said crisply.

‘Jonathan, did you ever ask yourself why you are here? What is your purpose? Did you ever think that you chose to incarnate with your parents and your family, for example? A specific soul
group that you are part of since the beginning of time? Did you ever think that perhaps it’s not what happens to you that’s important, but the way you
deal
with it? This abuse
has happened to you but you can choose how you let it affect your life. You can choose victimhood or victory. That choice is yours!’ she’d said in her gentle, matter-of-fact way.

Jonathan knew the choice he wanted to make. His life was changing for the better and so was he.

Des Williams punched the air exuberantly before replacing the phone on the cradle. ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ he trumpeted, barging into the hotel bathroom where Colette
languished in a bath of frothy soapsuds sipping a G&T and flicking through
Vanity Fair.

‘What?’ She glanced at him irritably. She hated his habit of bursting into the bathroom without even knocking.

‘We’re married. So what?’ he’d retort when she would chastise him for his lack of finesse.

‘We’re going to New York, baby! I got the job! Graydon Taylor
himself
just phoned me. Jeez, he works 24/7, even on weekends! I’ve to fly over on Tuesday for a briefing
– that’s why I got the call. Jerry Olsen, eat your heart out!’ Her husband was fizzing with excitement, striding up and down, eyes glittering in anticipation at what was to come.
‘This brings us way up!
Way
up! This is the big time! Mega bucks, baby, mega bucks! Let’s go celebrate.’ He leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth.