Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
I hadn’t seen Niall since Mr O’Callaghan died. I’d dropped a card through the shop letterbox addressed to him and Mrs O’Callaghan and told them how sorry I was for their loss. I’d read it over and over again because I was convinced I’d written sorry for the loss of Mr O’Callaghan’s penis instead of sorry for your loss . The more I read it, the more thoroughly I had to check it, and in the end I had to get Una to look it over for me.
The pub was filled with black; black shirts and trousers, black knee-length skirts and blouses, some opted for hats with a splash of grey, but not a hint of colour. Ian had laid out a grand spread – boiled eggs (sliced), ham and cheese rolls, bowls of chips, some mini pasties (courtesy of Ellie), and a giant flan that Maggie Ryan had made but no one touched. All the stuff you’d expect to see at a wake I suppose, although I had no idea because I couldn’t remember my grandmother’s, I was too busy counting how many people were in the room and pushing incest thoughts from my head.
I lost count of how many people were in the pub. I guessed around fifty, maybe. I could see Mrs O’Callaghan amongst the villagers. She was sandwiched between Ellie from the bakery and Ted Kelly, who used to run the post office before it closed down. She was in the room, but her eyes were somewhere else, probably with Mr O’Callaghan. Niall was stood not far from them, with a glass of whisky (I assumed) in his hand and a look of something I couldn’t quite place on his face. Grief, I supposed.
Maggie Ryan was perched on a chair by the buffet table. Her husband, Ron, was by her side holding a plate of mini pasties, and she looked like she wanted to let out a silent scream.
I had often wondered why she would stay in an unhappy marriage – what was the point? It wasn’t like they had children to think about. They lived on their own with nothing keeping them together, so why did she stay?
Maggie Ryan fascinated me and I’m not even sure why. She was extraordinary and ordinary at the same time, but she was desperately unhappy, I could see that.
Why else would she do the things she did? It wasn’t for the money – Ron had been on a good wage as a salesman before he retired and she didn’t want for anything, so it must have been because she was unhappy with him. She couldn’t have loved him. Not having all that phone sex with other men.
I wanted to ask her all these questions. I’d had plenty of opportunity over the years when she’d come into the shop, especially because Niall would always leave me to serve her. He didn’t like Maggie, I knew that, but I didn’t know why. Maybe he’d phoned her hotline once and she’d rejected him? Maybe that was what it was. But he always went into the back storeroom to count the stock whenever she came in and wait until she’d left before he came out.
I asked him once and he flat out denied it, which was an obvious lie because there was not enough stock to count three or four times a week, which is how often Maggie Ryan would come in.
I made my way over to Niall and touched his arm gently.
‘I’m sorry about your dad, Niall,’ I said. ‘I hope you’re OK.’
‘How are the woodlice?’
He took me by surprise.
‘They’re … they’re good. Still alive.’
‘You got them all out then?’
‘I just brushed them off.’
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
‘Niall?’
‘Yep?’
‘Was that why you were at the shop so early that morning I phoned for my keys, because your dad had died?’
‘Yep,’ he said again.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘You needed my help.’
‘Your dad had died.’
‘Exactly. He wasn’t going anywhere. Well, I guess, technically he already had.’
‘I would never have called if I’d known.’
‘Then how would you have got back in?’
‘I suppose I would have waited for Jack to wake up.’
‘Then he would have seen you naked.’
‘I wasn’t naked.’
‘Semi-naked then.’
‘I had a T-shirt on.’
‘His T-shirt,’ Niall said bluntly.
I felt my cheeks burn again.
‘Jack’s gone now, anyway.’
‘Got what he needed then?’ Niall looked behind me to the front door as if he could see Jack beyond it.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Niall shrugged and it made my blood boil.
‘It wasn’t just sex,’ I snapped.
‘What was it then?’
‘We spent time together.’
‘Doing what?’
‘We went to the quiz.’
‘You drank through the quiz.’
‘And we walked up Slievenamon,’ I lied.
Niall raised his eyebrows and I wanted to hit him.
‘He packed a picnic for us and everything, olives, the lot.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘God, you’re being an eejit. Just because your dad died doesn’t mean you can be a twat.’ I should have felt bad, but I didn’t, I just felt angry.
‘Well, I’m sure he’ll call you every day,’ Niall said sarcastically.
‘I’m seeing him again actually,’ I said before I could think about what I was saying.
‘Really.’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ll have to remember the time difference with video calls.’
‘No need,’ I said smugly.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because I’m going to New Zealand.’