Chapter 35
Madigan’s Bar at the end of a lane off Kilticaneel’s High Street was the polar opposite of the Shamrock. Liam had found himself standing outside a building more industrial than hospitable, checking the name above the heavy door to ensure he was at the right place. Having assured himself he was, he stepped inside the echoing interior.
It wasn’t his sort of pub, he thought, taking in all the brick, steel and glass before frowning at the bar to check out the drinks on offer. Craft beers, as he’d suspected. He shook his head and glowered at the hissing, spitting coffee machine. He couldn’t stand those noisy yokes. Then his eyes fell upon the young fella pulling a pint. Grace had informed him the short, back and sides, full-bearded look harking back to the Victorian era was called hipster. But yer man there had gone a step further and twirled his moustache. Hipster, my arse! Liam snorted silently. Then he heard the young woman with a painful-looking nose piercing on coffees toss over to him, ‘Jordan, was that an oat milk macchiato with a shot of vanilla?’ and decided his name suited him very well.
No, this bar wasn’t his cup of tea. He preferred the homelier environment of a pub. Of course, a traditional Irish pub couldn’t serve anything but alcohol. Still, it was Mark’s suggested meeting place, and given the man had no reason to agree to see him, he wasn’t about to argue.
He ordered a coffee, a straightforward flat white with cow’s milk, not up for anything stronger given he’d not long had his breakfast. Besides, he’d promised Nora not a drop would pass his lips until he’d been for his check-up.
It had been touch and go whether he’d get here this morning, given his wife’s reaction when he’d told her what he had planned.
‘Sure, you’re only just after getting out of hospital, Liam. What’s the rush? It’s been over thirty years. What difference will a couple of weeks make?’ she’d demanded, hands on hips.
He’d not bothered explaining that his heart attack had taught him time was of the essence. None of them knew how much of it they had. As for his mam, Kitty had all but blocked his exit, and in the end, a compromise had been reached. Hannah would drive him to Kilticaneel. She’d hand out festival flyers in the square, and when he was ready to go, he’d send her a text, and she’d pick him up. He’d also solemnly promised not to say or do anything that would raise his blood pressure.
So now here he was, picking his way over to a table near the exposed-brick back wall.
If Mark had been surprised to hear from him after so many years when he’d telephoned the morning after his welcome home, he’d not let on. Cool as a cucumber he’d been as they’d arranged a time and a place. They’d both said goodbye without Liam elaborating on what this sudden get-together was about and Mark not asking.
Liam settled himself into a seat facing the door, and as the minutes ticked by, he checked his phone. No new messages. He didn’t doubt that Mark would show, though, and a minute or two later, in he walked. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the artificial light after the sunshine outside, and Liam used that time to give his one-time friend a quick appraisal.
He’d seen Mark several times over the years, always crossing the street when he saw him coming – you couldn’t live in this part of the world without bumping into folk. Still and all, it had been a few years since the last time he’d set eyes on him. He’d not changed much. His hair was as thick as when he was a lad, but there were only hints of the dark brown it had once been now, and his chiselled features had a cragginess to them. Liam honed in on his middle, seeing as, like the best of them, it had softened. He raised his hand, expecting Mark to see similar changes in him.
Mark acknowledged him with a dip of the head before ordering a drink from Jordan, waiting while the bearded one poured his pint.
What was running through his head right this minute? Liam wondered, examining how he felt. He’d expected to be nervous, but he wasn’t. If anything, it was shame he felt for not having put things right years ago. He put the salt-shaker he’d been twiddling with down as Mark crossed the distance between them. Would they shake hands? He held his out before Mark even had a chance to set his glass down. ‘Thanks, Mark, for coming, like.’
The years peeled away, and Liam saw not the man returning his handshake but the lad with whom he’d whiled away so many years of his childhood. ‘It’s good to see you.’ He meant it, too. ‘You’re looking well on it.’
‘And yourself. Now tell me, Liam, are you dying? Is that why you called me?’
Liam threw his head back and laughed at that. He’d forgotten how direct Mark could be, and he saw him smile at Liam’s response.
‘Well, you can’t blame a fella for asking. I heard you’d been in the hospital, like.’
They both knew the village drums beat loudly when it came to any news in their part of the world.
‘I’m not dying. I had a minor heart attack, and the doctor’s after putting a stent in the blocked artery and giving me a clean bill of health.’ Liam gave him the outline of how it had come about on the bogland, with Grace having had to search for a signal before calling for help. It all sounded very dramatic.
‘I’d a similar turn myself last year.’
This surprised Liam, and it must have shown on his face. ‘No one knows about it except Mairead.’ He shrugged. ‘None of the kids live at home anymore, and I couldn’t be doing with a big fuss, so we kept it between us.’
‘Fair play. I can’t say I blame you. It’s the lemonade and leafy green vegetables for me from now on, at least if Nora and me mam get their way, and the girls are after treating me like some sort of invalid tiptoeing about the place.’
‘It’s the diet changes that are the worst of it. Mairead used to insist on a meat-free Monday. Now, we only have meat on a Friday, and I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a nice juicy steak dinner.’
The two men were still commiserating with one another about the unjustness of substituting lentils for mince in a cottage pie when Liam’s coffee was put down in front of him. He took a sip of the bitter brew and winced. ‘Is Mairead keeping well?’ Mark had eventually settled down, having sowed one wild oat too many and getting caught out with Mairead, a local girl they’d gone to school with. She’d lost the baby, but it had all worked out in the end. From what he’d heard, they were happy enough.
‘She’s grand. Misses the kids not being under our roof, and she keeps making noises about getting a dog. Nora?’
His wife’s name was said without guile. It was all such a long time ago, Liam thought, replying, ‘She’s well.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You’d have heard that my Grace and your Christopher ran into each other in London and ended up sharing a house?’
‘What are the odds, eh?’
Liam nodded. ‘I heard you’re backing this festival they’re after organising?’
He nodded. ‘’Tis for a good cause. And it’s given me a second chance with my son.’
Liam’s gaze flicked up. ‘In what way?’
Mark stared into his pint, watching the bubbles fizz and pop. ‘I never understood his music. I thought all my boys would follow me into the family business, and they have, except for Chris. Things have been strained between us since he left home. I can be a stubborn eejit.’
‘That makes two of us,’ Liam muttered.
‘I saw him perform once in Dublin with his band, and he’s good, you know. Better than good. I told him as much. But I think he felt I was humouring him. I don’t know. He was a closed book. This festival, though. When he came to me asking whether I’d get behind it, it changed things. Stumping up the money to get it off the ground seemed to prove to him that I believed in him.’
‘I’m pleased for you.’ And Liam meant it.
‘Thanks.’
Mark had opened up to him about his relationship with Chris, so there was no point in him beating about the bush. ‘I asked you to meet me here today because I realised something while waiting for help on the bog.’
‘Oh yes?’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘I owe you an apology. So that’s what I’ve come here to give you, and I hope you’ll accept it in the spirit it’s given. I’m sorry,’ Liam said sincerely. ‘It’s taken me until now to understand it was easier to be angry than scared.’
Mark took a thoughtful sip of his pint then pulled a face. ‘Craft beer,’ he said by way of explanation.
‘I thought this might be your local, like.’
He spluttered on hearing that. ‘Christ, no. I figured we’d not see anyone we knew here, giving us a chance to hash things out.’
Liam grinned. ‘I’m glad to hear it. I thought you’d turned into a hipster like Jordan behind the bar there.’
Mark laughed heartily at that then, pushing his pint away from him, said, ‘For what it’s worth, I know. I’ve always known.’
Liam nodded slowly. He wasn’t surprised. You didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to do basic maths.
‘And I owe you an apology, too, because I could have put your mind at rest years ago, but by the time I found out, too much water had gone under the bridge.’
‘Found out what?’ Twin lines marred the space between Liam’s brows, and he had a feeling he was going to regret not having ordered a stiff drink.
‘It was a false alarm that saw Mairead and myself march down the aisle.’
‘Oh? I always assumed she’d lost the baby, like.’
Mark shook his head. ‘There was no baby, but I’d have married her anyway.’ He hesitated before adding, ‘One day. And, sure, it all worked out.’
Liam drummed his fingers on the table, not understanding what Mark was getting at.
Picking up on his impatience, Mark got to the point. ‘The thing was, even though we were going at it like rabbits, nothing happened, and time was passing. Turned out I’d a blocked tube. An EDO it’s called, and I won’t get into the nitty-gritty of it all with you, but I had minor surgery to remove a cyst.’
Liam had crossed his legs, squeezing them together in sympathy under the table.
‘Mairead would never have fallen pregnant if that hadn’t been found.’
It took a solid minute for the penny to drop, and when it landed with a clunk, Liam flopped back against the padded back of the seat. His mind scrambled to make sense of it all.
‘Shannon’s always been yours, Liam.’
What was the man saying? Sure, he knew that. Shannon had been his from the moment he’d held her in his arms at the hospital and promised to always love and protect her. His and Nora’s firstborn had arrived either early or late. They couldn’t be sure because Nora’s periods had always been irregular, and they’d been seeing each other a good few months by the time she’d twigged she was pregnant. There’d never been any question they’d marry, but just like Mark and Mairead, it would be a little sooner than planned. Liam would have been ecstatic over marrying the girl of his dreams and starting a family if not for the fear.
What if the baby Nora was carrying was Mark’s?
He’d promised his new wife he didn’t care, the little one would be his, and that was all there was to it, but still the doubt had niggled away. What if Mark were suddenly to decide he wanted a paternity test done, and it revealed he was the baby’s biological father? He could turn their world upside down. He could take the child away from him. It was an irrational, illogical fear, and despite Nora’s reassurances that it could never happen, it had festered until it spilled over. He’d picked a fight over something and nothing with Mark. It hadn’t taken much, given his pal was irked at how he’d gone behind his back with Nora. No matter that he’d stood her up. The fight had seen fists flailing, and the two men had wound up on their arses on Main Street. Sitting on the cold pavement slab, Liam had shot words designed to drive Mark away for good. And he’d succeeded.
‘We’re a pair of old fools,’ Mark said.
‘We are,’ Liam agreed.
‘Shall we shake on it and agree to put the past behind us?’
A weight Liam had only been vaguely aware he’d been carting about all these years fell away from him then, and he held his hand out toward his old friend once more. ‘I think that’s a grand idea.’