Blood And Water (16 page)

And catching Robbie’s poignant, troubled blue eyes standing in the doorway of the office, Rian had understood that he had returned the favour. Now, between them they had something more than just the wrath of Fitzer in common.

It took hours for him to get to sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Sully’s big white head looming over him. He thought about Seb and what he might do if he confided in him. But, knowing the answer to be absolutely nothing, decided that there was no point. He had turned away when he saw Fitzer tear him down. He had walked away when Rian was lying on the floor. He had watched him walk from the dorm like a lamb to the slaughter. And he did nothing. He did nothing to help him. He offered him neither a silent word nor nod of either support or sympathy. He threw him knowingly to the holy wolf then turned a blind eye. Rian didn’t know what was worse: the image of Sullivan’s ugly head or the idea that his own brother couldn’t care less. Unable to face the pictures that formed so vividly in his head, he tried to see if he could keep his eyes open all night. It worked for a while but eventually, despite himself, he simply fell asleep.

When he woke the following morning he dressed then listened and waited for the sounds of his brother leaving the dorm. He followed him down the stairs to the refectory where he sat opposite him. Seb threw him an irritated look but said nothing, focusing on the disappearing contents of his cereal bowl. Without offering his little brother as much as a smile he scooped himself a second bowl of half-stale cornflakes. Rian followed suit, their fingers meeting at the milk-jug handle. Seb looked sternly at his younger brother who immediately withdrew his hand in obedience. Seb was often irritated by his little brother but this morning he was particularly prickly: if his looks were terminal Rian would have expired at the first soft spoonful.

In his own awkward way Rian wanted to know, needed to know, if Seb was on his side in the matter of what had happened in the priest’s office. What did he think of what had happened? Because, even though Rian had said nothing, Seb knew damn well. Everyone had heard the rumours. But his brother didn’t raise his eyes from the milky bowl. Spoon after spoon, scoop after scoop, they ate their cornflakes in silence. This was the test, Rian thought. If he says anything now, I know he’s with me. If he doesn’t, then he’s not. Simple as. Throughout breakfast, as each disappointingly silent minute passed, he felt and acknowledged the various pats on his back from his student comrades. They suspected but didn’t know for sure what had happened in Sully’s office and they never would know. He’d not tell, that was certain. His fellow classmates, it appeared, cared more than his own brother.

“What the hell do you want?” a vexed and grumpy Seb finally barked impatiently, throwing his spoon into the bowl with a heavy clang, sending a wave of milk crashing over the side and all over the table.

But Rian didn’t bother to reply. So the test was complete. He had hoped for more and felt like his brother had thumped him. Unmanly tears threatened so rather than expose himself further in front of everyone he dropped his gaze and shook his head.

“Well, then, bugger off, would you?” Seb told him callously. “You’re giving me a pain in my face.”

Done. Gathering up his bowl, spoon and glass, Rian took them to the dishes trolley and left to get his books to go to class, stopping off in the toilet on the way to sort out those unwanted but inevitable tears.

He did think of sharing his experience with his mother, but in the end decided against it. She held no weight with his father and wouldn’t really be able to support his desire to leave. So, when term finally ended and he had plucked up the courage to approach his father, he had expected a tricky but eventual end to his ordeal.

“What in the name of the good God are you up to?” his father accused him, his flaring nostrils accentuated by the light from the desk lamp. “Father Sullivan is your headmaster, he’s a teacher for God’s sake, a man of the bloody cloth, of integrity.” The more he spoke the more incensed he became, his arms gesticulating rigidly in anger, as if cataloguing the reasons why he shouldn’t believe his son. Pushing his chair back violently, he stood and walked around the desk to approach Rian.

Knowing better than to avoid his father, Rian stood firm and waited for what was to come. Having thought long and hard about whether or not to confide in him, he had worked through every detail about how he should say it every night since and all the way home on the school train. ‘Just spit it out’ was his decided approach and now, standing with his knees like jelly and his father bellowing at him, he wasn’t so sure he’d reached the right conclusion. His father was angry but for all the wrong reasons.

Arriving at the feet of his son, William raised his arm and swung to slap him hard across his soft, flushed face. Rian’s body swivelled from his hips with the force of his father’s hand but he didn’t fall over.

“How dare you?” William spat. “Of all people. You don’t honestly expect me to believe that he, a fine, intelligent, educated man is about to squander his reputation, his faith for God’s sake, on a little squirt like you, now do you?”

Rian’s face hurt, but not as much as his feelings. He didn’t expect his dad to believe him immediately but he at least expected to be given a chance to explain, to present his case. Raising his hand to touch the cheek, gently feeling the stinging welts that were blooming beneath his fingers, he managed to stifle the small cry that would only irritate his father more.

But I’ve done nothing, he said to himself and to his father he insisted, “I am telling the truth. He did … he …”

“He nothing.” His father spoke firmly, lifting his hand to take a second swipe, but changing his mind mid-swing. “Why, I ask you, why would you do such a
thing?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he roared at his quivering son, standing so valiantly in the face of his father’s and his own shame: “Get out! I am utterly disgusted with you. Go to your room and don’t come down till I tell you to!”

Rian stood for a long minute staring at his father who stood now in front of the fire, hands buried deep in his pockets. He couldn’t believe that that was it. No questions, no inquiry.

“Go on,” his father instructed. “Get out and send your brother in.”

Turning on his heel he walked slowly to the door without the energy to stop or even wipe the tears and the snot that ran in little rivers down his face. Bewildered, tired, hurt, defeated and weak: that was how he felt. Now he knew how Sullivan had managed to get away with it all these years, how his reputation had managed to become almost mythical amongst his peers. It was incredible to believe; too incredible it seemed for his father and probably many fathers before him. He pulled open the door, leaving the warmth of the study to exit into the chill of the dark and wide-open hall where Seb waited for his turn.

Rian stepped aside and watched his brother pass. Their eyes met briefly but all he saw was contempt.

“Please!” he whispered desperately to his brother as he walked through the door.

Seb paused for a split second but, without
acknowledging his brother, entered their father’s lair without even a fleeting glance back.

Rian didn’t have the will to move, praying that his brother would do the right thing, but knowing miserably that he wouldn’t. He listened with his ear to the door and waited for his father to speak.

“What do you know of this?” he heard William ask Seb.

“Nothing,” Seb replied confidently. “I didn’t see
anything.”

Rian listened no longer. He didn’t care to.

Seb could have helped. He should have told the truth. Sure he didn’t see what happened, but he knew. Just like the rest of the school knew.

Sitting at the end of the stairs he waited for Seb to come out.

“Why did you do that?” he screamed in a whisper. “Why couldn’t you just tell him the truth? Tell him what really happened? Why couldn’t you say it? Why didn’t you say?” The slow-running river turned into an ocean of salty tears that sizzled as they passed over the heat of his throbbing cheek.

“You’re a bloody looper, do you know that?” Seb spat, bunching his fist and driving it into this little brother’s soft stomach. “You can’t just keep your mouth shut, can you? And now look where you are and you want to bring me down with you. You are a weakling and a pain in the ass and, do you know what, no one really likes you very much, you know? You think you can go round fixing people and making people like you. Well, you can’t. This is what happens when you try too hard. Stop trying, Rian.” He stepped around him to make his way upstairs.

“I hate you, Seb. Really. Really hate you,” Rian whimpered helplessly.

Seb didn’t hear and even if he had he wouldn’t have cared.

It was a day that Rian would never forget and one that forged the foundations of his future. Dogged by low self-esteem and the even lower expectations of others, Rian threw himself into showing them how wrong they were. He wasn’t stupid or weak and, while he couldn’t avoid Father Sullivan and his vile persuasions, he didn’t stop trying. During the course of his remaining five years at Ashton College he had to suffer Sully’s repeat performance only five more times, one for each of his seemingly penitential years. Each time was easier to endure than the last. He learned to think about where he was going and what he was sure he would become. He would come back and show them all that he was someone to respect, not someone to abuse. He promised himself that he would find a way to show them and, when he did, they would all be sorry. When he qualified from college, he would be better than Seb, with better grades, better friends and a better life. He would be a different kind of success to his big brother. He would actually give a shit.

The morning after he graduated and left Ashton College he woke up to the new day feeling different: lighter, brighter, taller, wiser. Now he could breathe properly for the first time. He opened up his lungs and stretched long and tall to let the air rush and sweep away the thoughts of his past morning horrors. The tension was gone; he didn’t have to think three steps ahead of himself anymore. He was no longer a pawn in someone else’s twisted game. His only regret was that a substitute would be sought to take up the position that he and a few others from his year had left vacant. But that was not his battle, for the moment.

Most nights now he turned in his bed to face his newly crowned fiancée and couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive. For the first time ever, genuinely, he had happiness in his heart. Ten years his senior, she wasn’t the prettiest, or the smartest or the fittest, but inside Martha was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He could never resist the need to place a gentle, delicate kiss on her nose. Now he could leave the cold chill of his childhood behind as he had such a warm, loving future to look forward to.

She was good to him. Attentive, sensitive, she understood him and the things that were important. And while she didn’t need to get on with his family, she made an effort, particularly with the girls. And despite what she knew of Seb, she tried with him too.

“He’s not a bad person really,” Martha explained. “He just knows no better.”

She made sense. She was real. He liked that. It made him feel secure.

Chapter 14

In his father’s study, still gripping the mantelpiece firmly, Seb’s head was a blazing inferno, all notions of reason and calm abandoned. The game had changed and he was being hung out to dry.

Sitting down, taking his head in his hands, he immediately switched to crisis mode and, as he did with any challenge he faced in his day-to-day professional capacity, he sought to logically scrutinise the situation, understand the problem, assimilate an appropriate response and from there formulate a plan of action.

“Grow up, Sebastian! Are you telling me you’ve never told the tiniest of white lies to get the upper hand? Are you telling me you’re squeaky clean?”

“Actually, yes, I am!” he shot back with force. “In my business I am squeaky clean, I’m as clean as whistle, as straight as a die. We’re all of those things, we have to be. We don’t mess around, we can’t mess around. Our reputation depends on it.” As he spoke his mind was processing the implications of the situation. “We deal in millions, Dad, tens, hundreds of millions, and one small cock-up, one small dodgy deal, one small
white lie
could ruin everything.
This
could ruin everything. Do you understand? Do you
really
understand what you’ve done?” He could feel his pulse amplify and his temper rise. “Anyway,” he concluded frantically, “they won’t believe you. Why would I do it? Why would I conjure up fake signatures for a deal that I don’t benefit from? I waived my fee for you, remember? I get nothing out of this.”

“Well, that’s not technically true,” his father replied.

The words rang dangerously loud in Seb’s ears. He watched his father move to the opposite corner of the room and from the safe remove a brown manila folder.

Handing it to Seb calmly, he told him, “You see, this ties you to the deal.”

Seb opened it and stared at its contents, feeling his eyes blur and his head buzz. How did he think it couldn’t get any worse?
Tanglewood
. The name jumped from the page.

“How did you get these?” he asked quietly, holding the deeds tight in his hand. “Where are the originals?” he asked, his tone more urgent.

“I can be very persuasive when I need to be,” William replied, remembering how all it took was a smile and a convincing story to get Lucy, his secretary, to retrieve and hand the file over. He was Seb’s father after all. She could trust him.