The Weight of Him(83)

So much good had come from his going public. That was what he had to hold on to. He’d enjoyed a flood of pledges since Matters with Maeve, bringing the total amount of monies promised to just over eighteen thousand euro. Put the factory’s fifteen thousand on top of that and he’d pulled in pledges of more than thirty-three thousand and counting for the Samaritans. Filming was also under way for his documentary, tens of families coming forward from all over the country to participate. He’d continued to drop his weight, too, and had lost a total of one hundred and ten pounds, bringing him more than halfway to his goal.

“Ah, it’s yourself. What’ll you have?” the red-haired, middle-aged cashier asked with a warm smile. It was like she was greeting an old friend.

He licked his lips. “I’ll have the chef’s salad, please, no cheese. Is it possible to get the poached salmon with that?”

“It is, of course.” She smiled brightly, her face round and freckled, her shiny eyes blue-green.

He smiled back. He hadn’t let the demons win.

*

The closer they got to their destination, the more Billy felt trapped inside a missile locked on its target. He started to second-guess the wisdom, the humanity, of doing this. He wouldn’t want a trio of strangers with microphones and cameras landing in on top of him and his family, especially so soon. The Hallorans would only just have marked their daughter’s Month’s Mind mass. He reminded himself the family had contacted Adam. They wanted to do this.

Adam pulled over and double-checked the map on his phone. In the field next to them, a herd of sheep watched, their wool marked with purple dye. Even now, the supersized bruise on Billy’s stomach remained as dark and glaring as ever, branding him every bit as much as the purple on those sheep, showing what had owned him. The back of his neck tingled. Showing what still owned him. Adam pulled back out onto the road. The van gathered speed, zeroing in.

After stopping twice to ask for directions, they arrived at the ill-fated home. Billy felt he was being held underwater. Adam parked at the front of the house, giving himself away as a Dublin man and ignorant of the custom in the countryside of entering a home by the back door.

Beyond the two-story house, fields rolled out in every direction, a bumpy, rich green carpet edged in a maze of thick dark hedges. Dull lanes dotted with more homes also surrounded the property. Scattered everywhere, crawling briars and bands of mature oaks and sycamores. In the fields, grass waved on the breeze and several rabbits also dotted the landscape. The smell of wild woodbine, even this early in the day, filled the van. It seemed impossible, the horror that had happened here.

Billy pulled his attention back to the house, unable to stop himself from wondering where the brother and sister had done it and who had found them. The house stood tall and wide, finished in gray stone and topped with a coal-black roof. Five large windows in front stared back. The tarmac driveway bisected a large garden, one side planted with colorful flowers amid a granite rockery, and on the other side a lush green lawn with an ornamental stone wishing well. Two large flower baskets bursting with lavender and pink dahlias hung at either side of the white front door. The entire property looked as though its owners were putting everything they could into keeping as much as possible alive.

The net curtain moved in one of the bottom windows. Billy saw a flash of a woman’s face before the curtain dropped.

Denis rubbed his hand over the top of his head. “Are we really going to do this?”

“You’re sure they agreed to this?” Billy asked.

“I told you, I talked to the father myself,” Adam said. “He understands the concept of the greater good. Now, let’s get started. Take One.” He clapped one hand on top of the other, channeling a director’s board, and hopped out of the van. Billy struggled out after him. Denis remained in the middle of the bench seat, both doors of the van open like white wings.

Billy followed Adam around the back of the vehicle. Adam pulled open the rear doors and grabbed at the camera equipment.

“Let’s introduce ourselves first, before we drag all this inside,” Billy said.

“Yeah, we can show that much manners, at least,” Denis said.

“He always such a charmer?” Adam asked.

The door to the house opened and a man with graying brown hair appeared on the top step, his shoulders hunched, a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Halloran,” Adam called out. He moved toward the house, camera in hand. Billy followed, his legs weak.





Twenty-seven

Mr. Halloran looked at Billy on his doorstep, seeming stunned. He pulled the cigarette from his thin lips, its cylinder mostly ashes. “You were the fellow on Matters with Maeve?”

“That’s right,” Billy said. “There are no words, but I want to at least try to say how very sorry I am, such an unthinkable loss for you and your family.”

Mr. Halloran couldn’t hold Billy’s gaze. He nodded, indicating Denis still sitting in the van. “Who’s he?”

“That’s Denis,” Billy said. “He’s a dear friend, lost his father in the same way, and I’m sure Adam here told you about his nephew—”

Mr. Halloran eyed Adam’s camera as if it were a wild animal. “Where are you going with that? What do you think you’re doing?”