Chapter Twenty-One #4
“I was like, ‘Jesus Christ, we need to call the Guards.’ But he was all, ‘Oh, she’s just off having a sulk, crying on some other young one’s shoulder about what a bastard you are, that’s what women do, you’ll have to get used to it if you’re planning on marrying her, ha ha ha.
She won’t thank you for sending the Guards after her.
Let her sleep on it, she’ll be grand in the morning.
’ Only I rang round her friends, and so did her mum, and nothing.
I drove down to the bridge, in case she was still waiting for me or she’d had a fall or fainted or something, but she wasn’t there.
And I still couldn’t convince him to call the Guards. ”
“You coulda called them yourself,” Tommy points out. “If you were that worried. Or the Holohans coulda.”
“The station was closed,” Eugene snaps at him, “and I don’t have a phone full of sergeants’ numbers.
Neither do Fintan and Claire. But they were worried too.
They rang around and got people out looking.
” He’s spun back to Cal. “And even then, right, he was taking over, organizing people, handing out assignments, who should look where, and he told me not to say anything about Rachel being supposed to meet me at the bridge. He sent me off with Bernard McHugh in the opposite direction, up towards the mountains. We don’t want people thinking you did something to her, he said. ”
“And I’ll stand by that,” Tommy says, lifting his head nobly. “Ye all know what they’re like around here for the vicious gossip. I was trying to protect my young lad. If I did wrong there, I don’t regret it.”
Cal knows exactly what he was doing. Tommy was buying time. Every minute made it more likely that Rachel would be swept downriver, into the wide Shannon, out to sea and gone.
“So yeah,” Eugene says, to Cal. “You were right. I thought something was dodgy from the start.”
“Fuckin’ Einstein here,” Francie says. “You swallowed that loada shite he fed you?”
“Man, that’s his daddy,” Cal says. “Would you jump straight to thinking your daddy killed your girl?”
“My daddy wasn’t a prick,” Francie points out.
“Ah, he was,” Senan says.
“Sometimes, only. As a hobby. Not as a fuckin’ career.”
Tommy is managing a set, patient half-smile, but he’s having a harder and harder time rising above the peasants using his living room like it’s their pub alcove.
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t,” Cal says to Francie.
“ ’Cause nobody would. If the idea came into your head, you’d just tell yourself to quit thinking crazy. ”
“Exactly,” Eugene says, pointing a finger at him. His voice is rising. “Exactly. That’s what I kept telling myself, that the whole idea was insane, I was just letting my imagination run away with me because of all the stress—”
“And that’s entirely understandable,” Tommy says magnanimously. “Sure, anyone’d be losing the plot a wee bit, after what you’ve been through. We’ll come back to this in a few months, when you’ve had a chance to—”
“Only then,” Eugene says to Cal, “you told me he went to the bridge that night. And I couldn’t work out, I kept thinking, why would he lie about that?
To other people, yeah, sure, so they wouldn’t talk shit.
But why me? I wasn’t about to go spreading rumors.
Why would he be arsed, why wouldn’t he just tell me, unless—”
“Right,” Tommy says, slapping his hands on the arms of the chair. “I’ll take it from here, lads. My young fella’s had a tough time, like he told you, and he’s having a bit of a meltdown here. I’ll apologize on his behalf later, but first let’s get things straight.”
“I’m getting things straight,” Eugene says, through his teeth.
“You’ve said your piece,” Tommy tells him. His voice hasn’t risen, but it has a weight that flattens Eugene’s. “Now you’re going to behave yourself while I do the same.”
“Let your daddy talk a while, Eugene,” Cal says, and sees Tommy’s jaw tighten at someone else giving orders in his house. “I’m interested to hear what he’s got to say.”
After a second Eugene bites down on his lips, leans back against the wall, and folds his arms hard.
Tommy takes his time, to make it clear again who’s running this show. He breathes his temper down. Then he leans forward in his chair, clasps his hands between his knees, and considers them. The sunset behind him has paled to a cold streak of yellow; the sun is gone.
“You’ve small bits right,” he says to Cal, “here and there. I made the decision to keep some things to myself, and fair play to you for spotting that. But you’ve got the big picture wrong.”
He waits for someone to ask how. No one does.
“Rachel was a lovely girl, God rest her,” Tommy says, “and here’s the thing: she was no fool.
If someone hadda sat her down and explained properly what was on the cards, she’da been well able to understand that this factory’s a windfall for the place, not a tragedy.
But as it was, all she heard was ‘That factory’s going to take over the whole townland till there’s nothing left.
’ And you couldn’t hold that against her.
Sure, there’s plenty of older and wiser people that fell into the same trap.
” He runs a wry, weary eye over the men watching him.
“Eugene’s only young; he’s had no practice putting ideas across to people in a way they’ll understand. You can’t blame him either.”
Eugene moves, against the wall. He’s not looking at Tommy.
“So,” Tommy says, “I went out to put Rachel’s mind at ease.
She deserved that. Maybe she was a wee bit on the dramatic side, we’ll put it that way, a wee bit inclined to go straight to Defcon One, but she was a good girl; she only wanted the best for her home place.
But I never saw her. All I found was a note on the bridge, with a rock weighing it down. ”
“A note,” Cal says. “Saying what?”
Tommy sighs. He gazes down into his locked fingers, his head bent under the weight of this.
“That note would break your heart,” he says.
“I blame myself. If I’da just got to her quicker, or if I’da talked to her when I saw her earlier in the day, I coulda had everything straightened out, but…
” He runs a hand over his face. “Rachel still had herself convinced the factory was some kinda disaster, and she thought Eugene would leave her if she didn’t come round to our way of thinking.
I can tell you now, she was wrong there; we’re big believers in loyalty, in this family.
But apparently he’d got awful frustrated with her earlier, and that’s what she took away from it. And she couldn’t do without him.”
Eugene’s face is curled tight with fury and disgust, but there’s no surprise in there.
Somewhere along the way, probably after Cal cornered him in the lane the other day, Eugene has heard this story.
Tommy put plenty of skill into crafting it; it’s loaded with enough guilt-trip to turn all Eugene’s blame away from Tommy, right back onto himself.
Maybe he believed it the first time he heard it, at least halfway, but he doesn’t believe it now.
“ ’Twas clear enough what the poor girl had done,” Tommy says, “God forgive her. I went down the riverbank as far as I could, but I mustn’ta gone far enough, because I never saw hide nor hair of her.
Not that it woulda done any good if I had—not a chance I coulda pulled her out in time—but I hadta try. ”
“So,” Cal says, “instead of telling Eugene all this and calling in rescue teams, you gave him some bullshit about going for a walk.”
“For God’s sake, man,” Tommy says, with a sudden surge of anger.
“D’you think I wanted to destroy my own son altogether?
He was after losing the woman he loved. Rescue teams wouldn’ta changed that.
If I’da told him she did it on purpose because of what he said to her, it woulda broken him.
So I did, yeah: I ripped that note to bits and I gave him a story.
There you go, I’m holding my hand up to it.
I took that onto my conscience for my son’s sake, and I’d do it again.
And if you hadn’t come along sticking your nose in, he’d never have had to know any different. ”
His face has gone red, and he’s thrusting towards Cal like he wants to take him. The little speech is garbage, but the rage is real, and too close to the surface. If Tommy recognizes that, what he should do is end this conversation right here.
“Well that’s mighty noble of you,” Cal says, grinning straight in his face. “What a hero.”
“Bullshit,” Eugene says. He’s not leaning against the wall any more. “My feelings, what the actual fuck, he never gave a shit about my feelings. The only reason he ever did anything in his life is to get what he wants. He fucking killed her.”
“That’ll do, boy,” Tommy says sharply. He’s on his feet and moving. “You’re losing the run of yourself.”
“He admitted it,” Eugene says, to Cal and all of them. His voice is rising again. “I asked him, after you told me he was at the bridge, I asked him why. He said Rachel was going to talk, and he shut her mouth. He said someone had to.”
“Loada shite,” Tommy says. He gets a grip on Eugene’s arm, hard enough that Eugene makes an involuntary sound.
“Let him talk,” Cal says. He’s out of his chair.
“You,” Tommy says, “you stay outa this.” His voice has thickened. He aims Eugene at the door and shoulders him along like a bull. “My fuckin’ son in my fuckin’ house. He’ll talk when I say he talks.”
“And,” Eugene says, louder and faster, trying to wrench free, “and he said someone needed to put a stop to Mart Lavin. This shit was getting out of hand, he said, that little scut was getting above himself, playing at leader of the resistance for a bunch of morons who couldn’t organize a pissup in a brewery—”
“Shut your mouth, you little—”
“—he said if Lavin was gone they’d fall into line like sheep, he’d send me to handle it if I wasn’t a useless little prick, now he’d have to handle it himself—”