When All Is Said(56)

I fingered the scar on my face; coughed, a bit ashamed of my childish attempt at an excuse; got up to go in around the bar to pour myself some water, the Bushmills still seeming a step too far. I gulped down the coldness of the liquid and, when there wasn’t a drop left, I made a slow return to my seat, peeking at her every second step or so, bringing two full glasses with me. I laid them down.

But still, she didn’t budge.

‘Water,’ I commanded.

She considered me for a second before making her way back. I watched her feet until they disappeared under the table as she sat. I admit I couldn’t hold her eye and looked off at the long window at the end of the room to see the beginnings of the town’s waking. Lavin standing at his open door raising a hand to the newspaper deliveryman’s truck that spluttered away down Main Street.

‘But all this time, Mr Hannigan,’ she began, calling me back, ‘all this time, with the hotel and me, you knew you had it and never said a thing.’ She kept up the staring, boring into me like I was some massive disappointment. I sipped at my water and found Lavin again, carting his papers into the shop. ‘And even when I told you the story of what that bloody thing has done to us, to Thomas, you never said a word? Not a word. Just let me blab on like a fool.’

She looked away, unable to bear me.

‘Emily, I’ve never considered you a fool. I have nothing but the greatest of—’

‘But that’s what us Dollards have always been to you – fools, to be used for everything you could get your greedy hands on.’

I stared at the table and felt my own anger rise. Greedy. I’d heard her alright – greedy. The coin looked small now. The thing that felt heavy in my hand for years was like a halfpenny shrinking away from danger. I tapped the base of the glass on the table. My foot began to keep pace as the water in my glass jumped and lapped at the sides. I thought of Tony, dying in his bed, hiding the coin under his sweat-soaked pillow. Tony’s funeral. My mother, my father, terrified of losing all they had. The beatings. And Molly and you. And Sadie. Oh God. Sadie. All I had lost came back at me. A big tsunami of hate and sorrow. How sorry I felt for myself. Out beyond in the foyer, I heard the voices of the reception staff, greeting their guests, giving instructions on how to get to the dining room for breakfast. The smell of fried bacon reached me. My stomach howled but I kept tapping. My dentures bit down on my lip holding it all in.

‘I mean, we’ve all nearly lost our minds because of this, because of you.’

Emily shoved the coin in my direction. I watched its unwantedness spin towards me and hit my elbow, ricocheting away from me before landing just on the edge of the table. The coinage that never fecking was – how much I really wished that were true right at that moment.

I’m ashamed of what I did next, but I felt as mad as a raging bull. I took that bloody thing in my hand, bounced it once then threw it across the room, hitting the bar counter, propelling it back on to the hardwood floor.

‘You’ll forgive me, Emily,’ I shouted, heaving myself up to standing, my fist hitting the table, ‘if I was busy burying my wife and wasn’t thinking about the Dollards for once in my bloody life!’

The words spat out of me as I leaned over the table right into her face. Blood pumping, veins straining, on the verge of some furious meltdown. Instead it was the tears that came. Big sobs of the stuff. I grasped hold of the sides of the table to stop myself falling. And I looked at her, through my welling eyes, a helpless fool, my wall tumbling down.

The door behind the bar opened.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Miss Bruton, but Kerrigan’s are on the phone looking for the order,’ a young one said. Kerrigan’s, my arse. The lie of this heroine, come to save her boss, waited for a response. My hands rose to my face wiping away what I could as I felt my head thump like someone was inside trying to fight his way out. Back I fell into the chair.

‘I’ll call them later, Donna,’ Emily said to the floor, not looking behind her to address the girl at all.

‘Is everything OK?’ young Donna asked quietly, looking at the back of her employer’s head, then at me.

Emily also looked my way. Just like Molly, just like that last time I saw her. Beautiful, kind, wise eyes.

‘Everything’s fine here, Donna,’ Emily said, getting up and turning to the girl, picking up the coin on her way over to the bar, ‘nothing to worry about. You go on now. Hold any calls until I’m finished here.’

She came back to me then, so quietly and laid the coin down in front of her and there was silence for a minute or two. A silence in which I closed my eyes as tight as I could manage, so there was just me and Sadie locked inside.

‘I’m sorry, about Sadie,’ I heard her say. Molly’s sweet voice. ‘I was there, at the funeral. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to intrude. I’m not the best at funerals but I sent a card.’

I leaned into the support of my elbows on the table and thought of your mother. Thought of what she’d think of me now. About the show I was making of her. A sigh that seemed to come from the very feet of me washed up through my body, stilling the mad beats of my heart.

‘You did, Emily. I got it, the card.’

I watched her fingers resting on the table for a minute or two.

‘Coffee, I think I need a coffee,’ she said eventually.

I didn’t have the energy to say I never drank the stuff. So I let her away with the clanging and clinking and boiling of it. I never looked up for all that time, just kept staring down at my finger making circles on the mahogany table, your mother’s name filling my head.