Chapter 5
Five
An hour later, the game had come to an end and the Murphy clan were eating, along with most families around the lake, as the sun started to cast long shadows across the water.
Fin was ensconced on a picnic blanket, chowing down on chicken satay skewers.
Sweeney was on one side, and his mother and Connie were on the other.
Catherine and her wife, Margaret, sat opposite with one of their grandsons, two-year-old Jai, sitting between them, tomato sauce all over his face.
Mai and Donny and their two kids also occupied the blanket, along with two of Donny’s sisters and their mother, Fin’s Aunty Siobhan.
Donny pulled his phone out to check an incoming text. ‘Oh, crap.’
‘Donald!’ his mother scolded. ‘Children.’
‘They’re fine, Mum,’ Donny muttered, as his fingers flew across the screen.
Jai, who’d just climbed into Catherine’s lap, looked around angelically and loudly proclaimed, ‘Crap.’
Sweeney stifled a laugh as Mai said, ‘What’s up?’
‘Owen’s mother’s been in a serious car accident. She’s in hospital. They’re heading to Sydney with the kids for the next few weeks. He doesn’t know when he’ll be home but he doubts they’ll be back for the comp.’
Fin raised an eyebrow. ‘What comp?’
‘Gaelic youth competition at the Gold Coast in a month’s time. Over the Easter long weekend. Your dad entered the two teams a few years ago, but with lockdowns and travel restrictions, the comp never went ahead.’
Gaelic football. Of course. Michael Murphy’s drive to establish his beloved game in the area was legendary.
When every other kid in the state was signing up to play AFL, kids in Ballyshannon, persuaded by his passion and gift of the gab, signed up to play the beautiful game for the home team—the Banshees.
Silver-tongued Michael had also managed over the years to persuade the nearby towns to get teams together so they could run a small district competition that had been his pride and joy.
Along with a handful of other local enthusiasts, he’d volunteered countless hours to keep it running and healthy, which included coaching as well as providing the initial funding to build the pitch in Ballyshannon and sponsoring the annual awards night at Murphy’s with free food and trophies for all the kids.
Once kids hit high school, they lost interest in playing for the Banshees.
And not just because Banshees suddenly lost their cool cred around that age but because, even in Ballyshannon, the more mainstream sports were better funded.
Fin’s father had occasionally lamented the inability to attract older kids, but had mostly been philosophical.
He’d figured he’d given them a good grounding in teamwork, strategy and ball control and, as he’d been fond of reminding everyone, many a professional Gaelic player had been enticed from the Emerald Isle to Australia to play in the AFL.
‘The comp’s up and running again and we decided at the beginning of the year to go ahead and enter,’ Donny continued. ‘In honour of your dad.’
A thickening in Fin’s throat made the bite he’d just taken almost impossible to swallow.
He remembered the first time his father ever took him to a Gaelic exhibition match in Melbourne.
His dad had talked then about them going to Ireland together one day and watching a game in Dublin, and Fin would have given anything in this moment to be sitting next to his dad at Croke Park, a pint of Guinness in their hands, a crowd of eighty thousand all singing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’.
Fin was conscious suddenly of something brushing his knee, and he looked down to find Sweeney’s hand there, Claddagh ring in place, giving it a little squeeze.
She removed her hand just as quickly but she was closer too …
maybe? Not leaning into him exactly but pressing there, all steady and …
present. Their eyes met and she gave him a small smile.
The thickening turned into a lump.
‘So we’re down an under-7’s coach.’ Donny was oblivious to Fin’s sudden emotional turmoil. And to the way a simple act of closeness from Sweeney had soothed it. ‘Also, Owen’s daughter’s the best player on the team. She at least knows what the hell she’s doing.’
‘Not that it’s about winning,’ Mai reminded him drily.
Donny ploughed on, ignoring the mild reproach in his wife’s voice. ‘It’s going to be hard to find someone to coach for the next few weeks on such short notice.’
‘Nellie and Tori will be disappointed,’ Siobhan said. ‘They’re Owen’s biggest fans.’
‘They’re on the team?’ Fin asked, finally finding his voice.
Donny nodded. ‘They love it.’
Fin watched as both girls leaned in towards a big bowl of chips between them, banging their heads as they each reached for a handful. Jesus. They were his goddaughters and he loved them, but he hoped they wore helmets and bubble wrap to training.
‘I guess I can rejig my afternoons for the next little while.’ Donny had his calendar app open on his phone, scrolling between the days.
‘You’re going to coach?’ Mai asked.
What followed then was a quick four-way side glance between Mai, Siobhan, Rhonda and Catherine. It was part surprised, part alarmed. But, as always in these situations, it was Catherine’s job to tell it like it was.
‘Donny, honey, you can’t run three paces without tripping over.’
Fully aware, and accepting of, his shortcomings, Donny wasn’t remotely insulted by Catherine’s observation. ‘I can’t help my giant clown feet.’
Donny, his legs outstretched, knocked the feet in question together, drawing everyone’s gaze.
They were, by any measure, large. Disproportionately so given he was barely five foot seven.
As a kid he’d seen several specialists about his lack of balance, but none had been able to find anything wrong, leaving his unofficial diagnosis as CK.
Clumsy kid.
‘Still.’ He grinned at Mai. ‘You know what they say about guys with big feet?’
She returned his grin. ‘Large … socks?’
‘You know it.’
Fin, who had been exposed to Donny’s exhibitionist tendencies from childhood, knew all about the size of his cousin’s socks. And it was clear Donny was fine with the tradeoff life had dealt him—lack of sporting ability for the prowess in his pants.
Catherine, no stranger to Donny’s bragging on the subject, ploughed on. ‘I don’t think it looks good for the coach to be leaving in the back of an ambulance the first day.’
‘I’ll get a loud whistle and yell from the sideline. And I’ll see if other parents can do some, share the load a bit.’
‘No, Donny, don’t be silly,’ Rhonda said. ‘Fin can do it.’
Fin stopped chewing as everyone looked at him. ‘I can?’
‘Of course,’ his mother confirmed cheerily.
‘You were a Banshee as a kid, you’ve seen dozens of live games with your dad as well as the ones you’ve been to in Ireland, and you play in a comp with those people from your work.
Plus it’s four weeks away so you’ll still be here and you’re on vacation, which means you have the time. ’
Ronnie ticked the points off her fingers, each of which made perfect sense.
Fin’s first instinct, however, was to say no to what felt like another motherly manipulation.
The Banshees were so synonymous with his father that it was bound to be a constant poke at that bruise.
But maybe it could be an act of atonement?
A way to alleviate his guilt over those last harsh words he and his father had traded.
Words neither could now take back.
‘I don’t know much about kids,’ he hedged.
‘What’s to know?’ Donny said. ‘They’re energetic and like poo jokes.’
Fin glanced at Sweeney. He didn’t know why—it wasn’t as though he needed her permission, but already he felt like it was them against the town and they needed a united front to survive the coming days. She gave a little shrug then an encouraging nod.
‘Okay.’ Fin looked at his mother. ‘Sure.’ Why not? He could do this for Ballyshannon. And his dad.
Fin swore he saw some mist in his mother’s eyes as everyone clapped and high fived around them.
‘No, wait,’ Mai said, interrupting the celebrations. ‘He’ll need a blue card to coach kids.’
Donny groaned. ‘Damn it, you’re right.’
‘I had to undergo Garda vetting to work with children and vulnerable adults because of the annual telethon fundraiser,’ Fin said.
Fin worked for a health charity in Dublin—in the finance section. But every department sent people to man the phones during the epic twenty-four-hour event, and they’d all needed to undergo the required screening as children were often involved in the programme.
‘Maybe,’ he suggested, ‘the paperwork for that might do while I apply for the other?’
Now he was committed, Fin was determined to pick up the gauntlet and run.
‘It might.’ Donny nodded. ‘I’ll look into it first thing tomorrow.’
Crisis averted, the grins returned, but they were just as short-lived as another look passed between all the women. Once again it was Catherine who broke the news. ‘You should probably know … they’re not very good.’
Donny nodded quickly in confirmation. ‘But they’re just new to it and it’s all about participation in their age group anyway. They’re keen as mustard to go to the comp, and they’re putting in extra training sessions to do Ballyshannon proud.’
‘Well … I’ve never coached before so I might be crap too.’
‘Fin.’ Rhonda scowled. ‘Children.’
Jai waved a pudgy hand in the air and said, ‘Crap.’
This time Sweeney laughed out loud, but stifled it when her mother shot her a disapproving look.
‘I hope you don’t mind us monopolising your fiancé, Sweeney?’ Donny asked with a grin. ‘It shouldn’t interfere too much with Feeney time.’
Fin narrowed his eyes at the same time Sweeney shot Donny a beatific smile and said, ‘I’m sure we’ll cope, won’t we … darling?’
Her gaze met Fin’s and there was another of those weird moments as the endearment sat between them. Fin felt almost shy looking at her and he wondered briefly if, after this was all said and done, he and Sweeney would ever be able to get back to their old familiar ease.
‘Absolutely,’ Fin confirmed.
‘Ooh, actually, Sweeney, maybe you could help us?’ Mai asked.
Sweeney glanced nervously at Mai. ‘Okay?’
‘I know you’re only here for four more days but I follow your socials and your pics are ah-mazing. So, I was thinking about setting up an Insta for the Banshees linked to a GoFundMe page and I thought some really great quality pics of them practising might get some traction?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Connie enthused. ‘What a fantastic idea.’
‘We’re desperately trying to fundraise to get both the teams and at least one parent to the Gold Coast without any burden on household budgets. The cost of living crisis has made times hard around here lately, and most people can’t afford that kind of expense right now.’
‘I do wish you’d let Murphy’s cover it, Mai,’ Rhonda interjected.
Mai smiled gently at Rhonda. ‘Not this time. We’re doing this for Michael. We’ll manage.’ She turned to Sweeney. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’m sure Sweeney would love to help, wouldn’t you, darling?’ Connie beamed.
Sweeney blinked at her mother for several beats.
‘Oh … well … of course,’ she said eventually, looking around at all the expectant faces.
‘It’s just that … I don’t really photograph people, it’s mostly scenery and landscapes.
Holiday brochure stuff. Faces are a whole different skill set.
I’m not sure I could do that kind of thing justice. ’
‘I’m sure it’ll be better than anything I can take on my crappy old phone,’ Mai joked.
Jai bounced in Catherine’s lap. ‘Crappy.’
Mai raised an eyebrow at Catherine. ‘Seriously?’
She shrugged. ‘The kid has an ear for it.’
‘Mai’s right, darling,’ Connie piled on. ‘You’re perfect for this.’
Fin watched as Sweeney took another quick glance around at the multitude of Murphys and her mother, clearly feeling the pressure. ‘Okay … sure.’ She shrugged. ‘If you think it’ll help in some way.’
‘Wonderful,’ Connie clapped.
‘Oh, yes, well done, Sweeney,’ Rhonda agreed.
Mai leaned across the space between them and wrapped Sweeney up in an enthusiastic hug. ‘You’re the best.’ As she unhanded Sweeney and settled back onto her spot on the rug, Mai looked at Fin. ‘This one’s a keeper, dude.’
Fin smiled and nodded, not daring to glance in Sweeney’s direction. He only hoped he looked enthused rather than the awkward AF he felt. He had no doubt his good friend Sweeney would be a keeper for some guy, someday, if she ever changed her mind and decided she wanted that.
‘Keeper,’ Jai proudly pronounced.
And everybody laughed.