The Insect Rosary (5 page)

‘Maybe,' said Bernadette. She didn't look at Nancy. ‘We have lots of plans too.'

Nancy smiled. She was going to be friends with Bernadette by the end of their holiday. Maybe for now they could just get on like people who used to know each other well, and that would be enough.

‘So, what's the view on his leg?' asked Bernadette.

‘It looked really bad, but they're not too worried. Largely cosmetic, he'll be fine. He'll need a check up.'

‘Good. An early night perhaps?'

Bernadette's eyes weren't even on her when she asked questions. She was signalling something to her older girl, some keep quiet or sit still order to two children who looked incapable of making noise or moving independently. She decided to wait to see if Bernadette repeated her question.

She didn't. It had been forgotten in her little silent exchange.

‘Sorry, what were we saying?'

Nancy smiled, ‘I can't remember either. I think I'm going to get Hurley up to bed.'

She stroked his shoulder. He handed her his juice, which she left on the tray, and he followed her out of the room.

‘Night, Hurley,' said Elian, not leaving his new talking partner.

Nancy tried to help him up the stairs but he leaned on the banister more.

‘I'll make up the bed in our room. Will you be all right?'

He nodded.

‘Don't forget to brush your teeth.'

He nodded.

‘I'm so sorry about what happened, Hurley. I should have done something, made Donn tie the dog up.'

He shrugged.

‘Go and collect your things. I'll see you in the morning.' She went into the bathroom, just for a bit of space and listened to the girls coming upstairs, complaining about sharing the room, crying about sharing the small bed. She cleaned her face and brushed her hair.

Hurley was waiting on the stairs outside the bathroom.

‘My bed's not ready,' he said.

‘No. I'll do that now.' She carried his bag to the room and put it on her bed.

Nancy struggled with the rusty clasps and hinges, but finally got the bed unfolded for when he came in. He slowly sat down on it and they both cringed at the screaming metal.

‘Just try not to move around too much,' said Nancy.

‘I can feel the metal.'

‘We'll see how we get on. After tonight.'

She hoped Elian would offer to swap, if anyone needed to.

Downstairs the front room was empty. She found them all in the parlour, Bernadette at the head of the table, Elian and Adrian flanking her, and an almost empty bottle of white wine in between them.

‘Open another, would you, Nancy? This one's all gone. We couldn't wait all night.'

Nancy found the bottle in the fridge, among many other bottles, and unscrewed the previous cork from the corkscrew. She looked around at the many boxes of provisions, the multipacks of crisps and the family packs of Twix and Mars bars sticking out of them. How was she going to hide this from Hurley?

She scraped off the foil and reapplied the corkscrew but the cork would not budge. She refused to ask anyone in the room to help her, but strained against it until Elian came to see what the hold-up was.

‘Here you go,' he said, as it popped. ‘What do we do about all this junk food? Didn't you say anything to them about what Hurley can eat?'

‘It's their food, not ours. I didn't even know they were coming until we got here. What could I say?'

He took the bottle back in and left her to find her own glass. When she sat down at the table and was pouring her wine they heard the gunshot.

‘Poor Donn,' said Bernadette. ‘He always said that would be his last dog.'

Elian kept his head down and waited for the conversation to resume on a different subject. He couldn't hide that he was glad and Nancy hated that. She forced her attention away from him, back to Bernadette.

She seemed so much the same, bright blue eyes which smiled when her mouth did, but distant, like she wasn't really there. The weird thing was that Nancy felt the same. Nancy had never felt guilty for leaving home. She was sick of making excuses for Bernadette. It was too embarrassing to be around those hospitals and other locked places. Nancy had wondered about this inevitable reunion for so long but hadn't expected Bernadette to be so confident, so self-contained. She didn't really need Nancy at all.

 

In the end they had to go to bed without seeing Donn and having to commiserate with him. The longer he didn't come back in the house, the more Nancy thought that maybe the shot wasn't for the dog. What if he'd just killed himself and they were all just sitting around drinking wine? What if he'd killed his dog and they were all sitting around drinking wine?

She lay awake as Elian slept, as quiet and contained as he ever got. Hurley was curled up on the fold out bed at the foot of theirs. She crept downstairs, automatically avoiding the creaky midpoint of the steps.

In the parlour she was disappointed to see Agatha was up, too. She was talking to herself. With horror Nancy realised that she was praying, her eyes closed and hands pressed together. Nancy pulled the door to again and waited outside. Maybe she should just go to bed. Or maybe Agatha realised she was there and would finish. She couldn't decide if it would be worse to wait or to leave. She lingered, deciding to give her a couple of minutes. The murmuring stopped and she peered through a slight gap. Agatha was looking at her.

She opened the door fully and closed it behind her. ‘I was thinking, before you go, you'll have to show me how to work the immersion heater.'

‘I will.'

‘We only have a shower at home. One click and it's heated, two minutes and you're done. They're not comfortable with baths yet. They see it as lying in your own dirt.'

Agatha tutted. Nancy wished she hadn't said it.

‘Do you want any tea?' asked Nancy.

‘Not at this time of night.'

The fire was nearly out, just a few embers glowing at the bottom. Nancy passed through to the kitchen and got a glass of water before joining Agatha at the fire.

‘All ready for your trip?'

Agatha nodded, staring into the end of the fire. ‘I'll pray for you.'

It sounded like a threat. Nancy wasn't sure how she should respond.

‘Thank you.'

They sat quietly for a while.

‘Did you ever regret leaving the convent?'

‘I didn't have a choice. Donn needed someone to keep house until he was married. I did think he would get married but God had other plans. It's not for me to question them.'

Nancy thought about the uncles and aunts who had escaped the house. Some of them had escaped the country too, but not Beth, Donn and Agatha. One other sister, Shona, had left home to keep house for a second cousin, a priest in Cork. She was there for eight months before she stole the week's collection and ran off to Canada with a married man. Agatha didn't speak to her, but Nancy's mother wrote. She'd visited her a couple of years ago and then Nancy on her way back. Others had gone to Australia, one to London. One uncle, Ryan, had just gone. No-one seemed to know where he was, her mum said.

Nancy realised that Agatha was looking at her.

‘I thought you may become a nun.'

‘I never really considered it.' Nancy shifted in her seat and drank most of her water.

‘Maybe you should have. I think it would have suited you.'

Nancy smiled awkwardly.

Agatha shook her head. ‘That sister of yours, I pray for her most of all. Those poor wee bastards. Condemned to –' Agatha threw her hands in the air.

She meant Bernie. Nancy remembered how they always called their aunt Sister Agatha, but only behind her back. When had they stopped that?

‘I'd better get up to bed,' said Nancy.

Agatha looked exhausted all of a sudden. ‘Look after Donn, won't you?'

‘I will.'

Nancy put her mug on the table and turned around to leave.

‘Promise me.'

‘I promise.'

 

She didn't hear Donn come in, but she heard him climb the stairs and close the door to his bedroom. His steps sounded like those of an old man. Knowing he was inside made all of the following noises, the shuffles outside, the cries of animals, more disturbing. They reminded her of something, some other night, but the feeling was vague and she didn't want to grab it properly. If she did she would never sleep again.

Then

Sunday mornings were different here. At home Mum didn't mind what we wore and I was always happiest in my jeans. I'd just grown out of my favourites, with the Muppet patch on the back pocket, or Mum said I had, but I squeezed into them a few times after that. It hurt, right across my stomach, but I didn't want to give them to Florence yet. One day they disappeared and I had a new pair, but no Muppets on them. That's what I normally wore, with day-glo legwarmers. Mine were pink and Nancy's were green. She asked me to swap when we unwrapped them at Christmas but I didn't. I was so happy that I had something she wanted and it was the first time I decided to keep it instead of swap like she wanted. After that she spent weeks telling me how rubbish pink was, but I didn't mind.

For church here I had to wear a nice, clean skirt. It was a dark red ra-ra skirt, and it matched Nancy's, but she hated us matching and I hated skirts.

‘No leg warmers,' said Mum, and we stripped them off. It was too warm for them anyway, but Nancy complained.

‘I'm not listening,' said Mum.

Sister Agatha washed our faces with the same mouldy smelling flannel, which Nancy felt she was far too old for. Florence smiled when Sister Agatha told her she looked like a little angel and gave Nancy a knowing look.

‘NB,' Nancy whispered to Florence.

Florence didn't know what it meant but she knew it was bad and clung to Mum.

We got into Donn's car, Florence on Mum's lap, and drove to church and parked in the car park across the road. On the way in there was no talking. You were allowed to nod, but not smile, not that I nodded at anyone. Sister Agatha did nod at every single person she passed. I wondered how she could know all these people and be on her own all the time. She led us to the second row and shepherded us in so she could sit on the end and continue to nod. She didn't dress any differently for church, just black blouse, black skirt and black jacket, same as always. I wondered why she didn't have special Sunday clothes, or maybe every day was a Sunday when you were so miserable.

The priest was different to ours too, but a bit more exciting. He liked to scare people about hell and swung his arms around when he was in the pulpit. Our priest at home was a vegetarian who liked to talk about animals and love. I didn't mind listening about hell and devils, but Mum always twisted around and made a fuss of Florence so she couldn't listen and ask awkward questions. Sister Agatha made us sit near the front, but Donn always sat in the back row. There were always lots of men in the back rows and I wondered if it was a secret rule about men who weren't married. Tommy was often there.

Everyone was smart, even us, and sang loudly, even when they shouldn't have because they were really bad. The girl behind us kept stroking Florence's hair even after her mother smacked her hand. It echoed around the church in the quiet bit. It was always cold and always dark in there, but I didn't mind that. It made the candles stand out more, especially the one in the red glass which showed God was in, I think. The small, high windows rarely had sun to show you the pictures, not like our church with its floor to ceiling stained glass and weird pointy bits.

‘A sixties architectural abomination,' my dad had said.

‘It's got under floor heating,' said my mum.

I never liked going up for communion here. If you put your hands out the priest gave you a funny look. You had to kneel at the bar around the altar in a line and he'd do a circuit, popping the wafer into everyone's mouths for them. Sometimes I'd hold my hands out and sometimes Nancy did. I was always pleased if we both did because then we looked as if we knew the right way and they were getting it wrong. I didn't think there was anything sinful about my hands, even if they weren't entirely clean. Then the grim, cropped altar boy would give you a sip of the wine, but not let go of the chalice, and then you had to get up and go back and kneel. In our church there were padded cushions but here there were hard wooden plinths to rest on and my knees would ache. If I got up too quickly Sister Agatha would poke me until I knelt down again. I tried to wait for Nancy but her knees seemed harder than mine. When I sat down again they were always red, but then I could watch the men who came forward from the back of the church. I smiled if I saw Donn, but he never looked at us. Maybe he was a bit scared of Sister Agatha too.

Almost as bad was trying to get out of the church at the end. Vaguely familiar people would approach us and tweak our cheeks.

‘It's not wee Nancy and Bernadette?'

Nancy had perfected this haughty look into the distance, so they fixed on me and the way I looked back and asked me stupid questions about my school, my age and my life and when my da would be coming over and didn't we miss him terribly. Sometimes I couldn't understand them and Nancy would translate for me to stop them repeating themselves over and over. Tommy would be outside the church door, pulling out people to talk to, laughing with the priest.

Nearly free, we'd have our hands crushed by the priest at the door, and then visit Gran and Granddad's grave, which they shared. I loved the drive back. It was all green fields, brown mud, small mountains and grey houses and no more church for a week. Most houses were the colour of the clouds, stippled with pebbledash against the wind and rain. Our farm was special, covered with a flat white plaster, with dark sea grey slates which glistened after every shower, signalling to the other roofs across the flat fields like dark beacons. I liked the heavy doors, thick walls and thin windows. Best of all I liked being welcomed home by Bruce, racing the car.

This Sunday when we got home the potatoes were ready to heat and the chicken smelled ready to carve, but there was already someone sitting at the table in the parlour.

‘Ryan!' I said.

‘Hello, girls.' He was shaved but his hair was much longer now, drifting over his blue eyes. ‘Long time no see.'

I saw his long green bag on the floor and thought how he'd missed my birthday. ‘Have you got me a present?'

He looked confused. I heard a gasp and turned. Mum had put her hand to her mouth. She looked down at us.

‘Go upstairs and wash your hands, girls.'

‘They're clean,' I said, and held them up for her. Church was supposed to be clean and we were clean when we went there in the first place.

‘Wash them again. You too, Florence.' She closed the door behind us. We went upstairs slowly, trying to listen. Sister Agatha came in the front door, carrying the freshly picked peas in a basket made from her skirt. We waited on the landing while Florence stood on the toilet lid and let the water run over her hands.

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!'

I never understood it, but when Sister Agatha said things like that it didn't count as blasphemy. If I'd said it, it would have. The door closed again, and then we heard Donn come in from the lobby.

‘Christ! What are you doing here? Get out!'

There was the noise of chairs scraping and something got knocked over.

Donn said, ‘You were told. He warned you what would happen.'

Then the voices went quieter.

‘Where's he been?' I asked.

‘How should I know?' Nancy held her finger to her lips.

We hadn't seen Uncle Ryan since he turned up in the middle of the night on Florence's birthday. He hadn't brought her a present either. Mum cried and Dad said he could stay, even though that made Mum cry more. He stayed that day, sleeping on the sofa for most of it, and then he left while we were at school the next. I asked where he'd gone and Mum said Timbuktu. I didn't think that was a real place, but I looked it up and it is.

There was a splash in the bathroom. I went in and used a towel to wipe the floor, then shook it out and laid it back on the side of the bath. Florence sat with us on the landing, smiling at us, and keeping pretty quiet for her.

The parlour door opened and Sister Agatha called us down to the bottom of the stairs. She had three plates balanced in her hands.

‘Front room, girls.' We sat on the sofa in a line and she handed us our plates. Her hair looked messy and her eyes were red. ‘This is a special day. You are going to eat in here and you're allowed to watch the television. Just leave the plates on the table when you've finished and behave. I'll be back to check on you soon.'

‘Can I get a drink?' asked Nancy.

‘I'll bring you a drink soon enough.'

‘Are we allowed to go outside?'

‘Nancy, listen,' said Sister Agatha. ‘You all stay right here until you hear otherwise. I'm relying on you. Do as you're told, please.'

When she left the room I looked at Nancy.

‘She said please.'

‘And television on a Sunday.'

We listened from our spots on the sofa but we didn't even go to listen at the serving hatch. We picked at our chicken and butterless potatoes and watched nothing. Through the serving hatch we heard the door close to the lobby.

‘I have to tell him.'

Donn was cross. Donn only got cross when we chased the sheep.

‘Please, Donn,' said Mum, ‘don't do it. We can get rid of him, send him away again.'

‘He came back. He knew what would happen.'

‘He was wrong. He gets that now.'

‘I have to tell Tommy, Eithne. You have no idea.'

‘It's your brother! Our brother!'

Then there was the sound of the back door and a sob. The parlour door was closed again.

I looked at Nancy. She was already looking at me. Florence was jabbing at the television, trying to switch it on.

‘We need to hide,' I said.

‘We'll be okay,' she said. ‘Mum will make sure.' She pulled Florence onto the settee in between us.

‘What about Ryan?' I whispered.

‘Oh, shut up, Bernadette. Tommy won't really hurt him.'

But I'd never said he would.