Chapter 39
All the adults in my life seemed to be treating my fast-approaching exams as if they were a cluster of storms that they needed to shelter me from in any way possible.
On the first Buddy Time after the museum visit I couldn’t wait to see Ronan and pick up where we’d left off.
But he was very quiet and seemed to be in a sombre mood.
I understood why when Mr and Mrs McCoy came to join us.
In such a short period I had become attuned to them; naturally feeling their energy, enjoying their quirks and, at that moment, bracing myself for when they had something difficult to say.
‘Brendan,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘we’ve had this conversation with Ronan already and it’s something he understands. I need you to know that.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Why do I feel worried?’
‘Don’t be,’ she said. ‘We know this isn’t going to be easy but we really do feel it’s necessary.
Over these months you’ve given more than we could have ever thought possible to Ronan and your friendship, you’ve also been a force of positivity for both Aaron and myself at a time when we were in a bit of a dip.
But it’s time for us to give a little something back to you.
It might feel like the opposite, like we’re taking something away, but please, please believe me when I say that this is really something you will thank us for down the line. ’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’m still worried.’
‘I’m not very good at this, am I?’ She laughed nervously. ‘Brendan, what I’m trying to say is that we’re going to put a pause on your Buddy Times until you’ve finished your exams.’
‘What? Why?’
‘These exams are the keys to your future, they’ll be carried with you the rest of your life,’ she said.
‘No pressure there, Emma,’ said Mr McCoy.
‘Oh goodness, I really am very bad at this.’
‘We think you need as much time to yourself as possible to be focused,’ said Mr McCoy. ‘And Ronan agrees.’
I looked at Ronan, he nodded once but his eyes were sad.
‘It’s only a few weeks, isn’t it?’ said Mr McCoy gently.
‘Well, not really, no,’ I said. ‘My first exam is Monday and then they’re all spread out until the end of term.’
‘Well, after tonight we’ll take the Buddy Time pressure off you …’
‘But it’s not pressure, Mrs McCoy, it’s … the opposite!’
I was desperate to keep my evenings with Ronan because we’d just scratched the surface of him beginning to tell me what had happened on the day of the accident – he wanted me to know.
I had already imagined the coming weeks in my head; Ronan helping me piece together the puzzle of what he meant in the museum when he showed me the barley field and the train disaster and the clock face and when he said ‘time machine’.
I knew exams were important, but Ronan was more important.
‘Please?’ I tried.
Mr and Mrs McCoy looked at each other. I was almost sure I’d managed to convince them to change their minds until Ronan spoke.
‘Noh … Brah—din … noh.’
His eyes had gone from sad to sternly serious. He knew why I wanted to keep Buddy Time with him, but there was something about the way he looked at me, saying, ‘trust me,’ as if he had a plan.
‘Is there really nothing I can do to change everyone’s mind here?’ I tried as a last attempt.
I looked at Ronan; those ‘trust me’ eyes.
All breath left my lungs as I nodded back, giving him the thing I’d promised to give him right from day one: belief.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Well … OK … then if I can’t come and visit I’m going to be phoning loads, OK?’
Ronan’s serious look broke into a glinting smile.
‘Of course and don’t think we won’t be phoning you!’ said Mrs McCoy. ‘It’s not radio silence we’re talking about here, we’re simply giving you space and time, that’s all.’
‘When you’re an adult and you land that high-flying job you’ll be thanking us,’ said Mr McCoy.
‘Best not mention the J word, Mr McCoy,’ I said after feeling the usual pang of fear I got anytime anyone did. ‘Right, well, I’m coming straight here the second I finish my last exam, OK?’
‘Deal,’ said Mrs McCoy.
‘Deal, Ronan?’ I said.
‘Yeah-sh,’ he said.
‘And you’re sure this isn’t going to disrupt your routine, Ronan? We’ve had this set for such a long time now and …’
‘Sssshhh,’ Ronan hissed out at me.
‘Did you just shush me?’ I said.
All four of us burst into laughter.
‘I’m going to miss this, though,’ I said, after recovering from the laughter. ‘We’re not usually very huggy, are we, Ronan? But can I give you a hug?’
I went up to him and gave him an awkward embrace, his mouth breathing close to my ear.
‘Tie … mm … mah … sheen,’ he whispered.
I pulled back quickly and looked at him. His eyes swivelled over to his parents and then back to me. His head was nodding slightly. An instruction.
‘OK,’ I said, nodding back at him, ‘OK.’
I stood up and patted my hands on my thighs.
‘So, see you on the other side, I guess. Countdown starts …’ I pretended to press a stopwatch on my wrist even though I never wear one, ‘… now!’
Ronan smiled.
‘We’ll just see Brendan out, Ronan, then I’ll be back down to get you ready for bed, OK?’ said Mrs McCoy.
Ronan nodded but kept his eyes on me and we never broke contact until I was out in the hallway and Mr McCoy closed the door.
It was like The Green Mile walking back up the hallway away from my friend; past his old bedroom door and all those framed photographs of him, taking them all in knowing I wouldn’t be walking past them again for what would probably feel like a lifetime.
It wasn’t just Ronan who had become dependent on the routine; I had too.
The disruption it would cause me was something I should have worked into my argument, but I hadn’t thought about it at the time.
I was too upset at the news to think strategically and I don’t think it would have changed things anyway.
But Ronan seemed to have a strategy of his own when he whispered ‘time machine’ into my ear.
If he knew he wasn’t going to be seeing me for a while then he wanted to leave me with something that I had to work out for myself.
‘Mr and Mrs McCoy,’ I said, lingering in the hallway near the front door, ‘can I ask you something?’
‘If it’s one last try for Buddy Time …’ said Mr McCoy.
‘It’s not, it’s something else.’
‘Sounds serious,’ said Mr McCoy. ‘Ask away.’
‘OK,’ I said, taking a breath. ‘Does “time machine” mean anything to you? Ronan said it in the museum when we were standing in front of the old courthouse clock.’
They looked at each other and frowned with little shakes of their heads.
‘Time machine?’ said Mrs McCoy, turning her mouth down at the corners. ‘Trying to think … No, I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything like that before. Time machine?’
‘I haven’t either,’ said Mr McCoy.
‘Me neither,’ I said. ‘We’d been looking at a picture of a barley field in the museum and then when we were in front of the clock face he said, “time machine,” so I don’t know. Anyway, thought I’d ask.’
‘Oh, wait,’ said Mrs McCoy. Her face had gone very taut and her hand went to her cheek. ‘I wonder if he meant time capsule?’
Mr McCoy swallowed and looked down.
‘Yes,’ she continued quietly, ‘yes, that’s probably what he meant, actually.’
‘Do you mean like a memory box?’ I asked. ‘Like one of those boxes you put lots of personal things in and bury it for people to dig up in a hundred years?’
‘Yes, exactly,’ said Mrs McCoy. ‘Ronan had made one.’
She looked at her husband.
‘He was going to bury it …’ he said, ‘… he was going to bury it that day … in the barley field.’
‘Oh’ was all I could manage to say. ‘Oh, right.’
We stood there in the hallway, none of us speaking, all looking down.
‘I didn’t know that. I didn’t know that’s why he was in the field,’ I said. ‘My promise to Ronan, if you remember, for him to tell me everything … I’ve sort of been trying to avoid the details until … until Ronan actually started trying to tell me something at the museum.’
‘We’re as keen as you, Brendan,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘truth is, Ronan really is the only one who can confirm or deny what actually happened, the way he was found …’
‘… I really am still keeping my promise, though, Mrs McCoy.’
‘Sorry, yes, we completely respect that, Brendan.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘it’s just I did promise and I know he’ll be able to tell me, tell us, soon but I think he needs me to know this one thing about the time capsule and I think he needs me to know about it now.’
‘Well, it’s actually something no one knows about, Brendan,’ said Mrs McCoy. ‘You know, in case some stupid people go and try to dig it up.’
‘It’s still there?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ said Mr McCoy, ‘he managed to bury it before … well, when Emma and I could bring ourselves to go to the field weeks afterwards we saw where he’d been and where he’d filled in the hole by the stump.’
‘Of the fairy thorn tree?’ I asked.
‘Yes, how’d you …’
‘Well, as much as I tried, I couldn’t block out everything that everyone was saying.’
‘No,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘and people say a lot.’
‘And don’t understand a thing,’ said Mr McCoy.
This was the darker, more tortured side of the McCoys I had hardly ever seen, but always felt. They hid it so well.
‘I don’t remember him ever mentioning anything about time capsules before,’ I said.
‘Well,’ said Mr McCoy, ‘he got the idea, or so Emma tells me …’
‘… he’d mentioned the idea to me,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘and his “rules” as to how and when it was to be dug up …’
‘… and by who,’ said Mr McCoy, ‘you see, the time capsule was for … is for … me.’
Mr McCoy seemed to be getting upset.
‘A thing that happened a while back in the family between a brother o’ mine and myself that made things … different, is all I’ll say. And Ronan thought this would be a way for that brother o’ mine and me … to … to go there, dig it up and … and …’
‘Put things right?’ I said.
‘Put things right,’ said Mr McCoy.
‘So,’ said Mrs McCoy, ‘I imagine that’s what Ronan was trying to tell you; about his time capsule, or his time machine and it being the reason …’
‘You see, Brendan, that’s just it …’
‘Aaron …’
‘No, love, no …’
‘Aaron, stop, keep your voice down …’
‘No, I’m sorry but you can’t get round the fact that it’s my fault. That’s what’s so friggin’ hard, Brendan.’
‘Aaron, you can’t be thinking like that, we’ve gone over this again and again …’
‘I know but it’s true, Emma, I don’t care what you say. If I had sorted all this family stuff out then Ronan would never have been there, it wouldn’t have happened and none of us would be where we are now. That’s just the way of it and I’ll have to live with it and that’s that.’
Mr McCoy was hunched over and so still that he almost seemed to be rooted down into the ground.
‘Well …’ said Mrs McCoy, taking a breath and letting it out through her nose.
There was a lot more the McCoys could say and there was a lot more I needed to know.
But the rest was for Ronan to tell.
‘And the box is still buried?’ I said. Mr McCoy straightened and swayed slightly. ‘It’s buried by the stump for you?’
He stared at me and his swaying stopped.
‘For me,’ he said. ‘And that brother o’ mine.’
‘Maybe one day you’ll dig it up. Together,’ I said.
‘Aye,’ said Mr McCoy. ‘Maybe. One day. But a lot of other things need to be put to ground before we dig anything up, Brendan.’
There was a beep outside. I had heard my dad’s car pull up a while ago but he’d been silently waiting until his impatience must have got the better of him.
‘There’s your da,’ said Mr McCoy, snapping out of it. ‘I’m sure he’s wondering what’s keeping you.’
‘And Ronan will be wondering what’s keeping me,’ said Mrs McCoy.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Tell him it was my fault.’
‘Well, we’ll keep it between us and next time you’re back …’ She didn’t finish her thought.
Suddenly, the next time I’d be back seemed even further away knowing what I now knew. If the McCoys thought pausing Buddy Time was going to help me focus on my exams they were wrong.
‘First exam Monday?’ said Mr McCoy.
‘Yeah.’
‘You’ll be grand, you’ve worked hard and it’ll pay off, just keep focused.’
‘I’ll buzz you and let you know how it went?’
‘I’d be insulted if you didn’t,’ he said.
It was hard to know how to end the evening after what we’d just shared – to talk about exams again felt insignificant.
‘Mr and Mrs McCoy,’ I said, turning in the doorway before stepping out into the night, ‘just wanted to say, I really do have a lot of love for you both, so, yeah … I just wanted to say that.’
‘We know,’ said Mrs McCoy, the two of them smiling at me in the doorway, ‘we absolutely know.’
‘Now away into the car before your da tells us off!’ said Mr McCoy, giving my dad a wave.
As we drove off the McCoys stayed standing in their doorway, one arm around each other and the other waving me goodbye. They were still waving as we came to the end of the road until we turned the corner and I lost sight of them in the wing mirror.