Chapter 33 Ruby #2
‘She said he’s innocent and that you lied. He wants me to visit him in prison. She said he would never … have done that.’
I found my voice. ‘Well, he did,’ I lied.
‘I know that. I believe you. His friends and family have given up on the appeal. They wanted the DNA tested in a different independent lab, but they were turned down. There is no new evidence.’
‘What else did Margie say?’
‘A lot. She repeated everything he said in court. She said he never tickled you and that you sat on his lap and tried to kiss him. She asked if you had a pair of denim shorts and, if you did, how would Milo even know about them?’
‘I don’t know,’ I shouted.
I was flung back into the witness box behind the screen in March 2000, nearly eight years ago. Now my sister was Milo’s public defender. I started to cry, deep heaving sobs. Lucy, in tune with me, woke up crying. Her wails grew louder as mine subsided. Erin hugged me and I felt worse.
‘I’m sorry, Ruby, I should never have told you.
You know I believe you. You probably wore those shorts in the garden that summer and he saw you wearing them.
He’s a pervert. Margie is mad. Especially after Mrs Kelly …
Margie won’t give up, but what the hell would she know?
She didn’t realize what her brother was capable of and can’t accept it. ’
The irony of her statement made me blush to the roots. I turned away to fill Lucy’s beaker with fruit juice. When I turned back, Lucy was sitting comfortably on Erin’s lap, grizzling.
‘Why now?’ I asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s been in prison for eight years. Why is she coming to you now?’
‘He’s sick. Cancer. She’s afraid he’ll die in prison.’
‘Oh.’
‘I was thinking I might go. But only if it’s okay with you?’ Her eyes brimmed with tears.
‘Yes, go.’ Why was she crying?
Because of the delayed arrival of Mom’s brother, Erin had to go back to Boston before Grandma’s funeral, and Dad went with her.
Erin got very little holiday or bereavement leave, and Dad had itchy feet.
Kathy was calling him constantly. Dad had business to attend to and church on Sunday.
Mom was grateful to him for coming. I said goodbye to Dad and Erin at the airport drop-off.
Dad said I should come home for a visit soon, and Erin said I could stay with her in New York.
I didn’t commit. I had made my life in Ireland, lost touch with my friends.
The Ruby I had left behind in Boston was not me. At least, I hoped not.
Uncle Dennis, when he eventually came, distracted Mom.
It turned out that Mom and her brother had different experiences of Grandma.
Dennis obviously wasn’t a planned baby, arriving eleven years after Mom.
The way he told it, he didn’t get much warmth from his mother.
Mom admitted that she had resented his intrusion into her life and especially when their dad died a year later of a sudden heart attack while on his way to the bus depot where he worked as a driver.
The way Mom told it, Dennis took up all of Grandma’s time and, as he got older, Mom was put in charge of him as Grandma tried to reclaim her life.
That was why Mom took a job as a nanny in the US, in Worcester.
She was doing the job anyway; she might as well get paid for it and earn a little independence and money.
Mom and Dennis resented each other, and Grandma resented Dennis for driving Mom away.
My saintly image of Grandma dissipated as I learned more about her rejection of her son.
No wonder he was an alcoholic. Every family was messed up in some way, generations of us.
But it wasn’t genetic in my case. I was the one who broke my family.
The funeral went off without a hitch. The priest read a eulogy to a loving mother who capably brought up two children on her own after their father’s death.
I caught Dennis and Mom exchanging looks.
The church was half full. My friends Jane and Sinéad came as well as Nasrin and Jack.
I was glad to see Jack. I accepted his apologies this time.
I had lied to him and then acted offended. I was the dishonest one.
Of my friends, only Jack came to the burial and to the small reception I had organized in a hotel. I knew he was checking up on me. I passed him the glass of sparkling water I was drinking. ‘Taste it,’ I said, ‘no gin.’
‘Any vodka?’
‘No,’ I said firmly. He was the one who had relapsed. But I guess by then we both knew there was the foundation of a friendship. I’d have checked on him too, if I’d known about his mother dying, but he hadn’t told anyone.
A week later, Jack offered me some teaching work in his Academy.
I was delighted. Lucy was eighteen months old and I needed to spend more time with adults.
He asked me to devise a programme for first years.
He warned me they were the trickiest. But he thought they might relate to me better because I wasn’t that much older than them.
By now over her ear infection, Lucy showed off her new head-over-heels skills to Jack. He cheered, clapped his hands, and she copied him.
Mom and Dennis established a relationship over those days and promised to keep in touch with each other. Grandma was in the ground and I was heartbroken, but also relieved in a way. Now only Mom knew the truth. And Milo.