When All Is Said(71)

‘If I could go back would I change it all, not take your money, is that what you’re asking?’ She looks at me, then back at the counter, wondering at the answer. ‘I don’t know,’ she says finally. ‘It’s made me who I am, I suppose. I was a girl when I started here. And now look at me, a woman who can run the best sports awards in Ireland. Actually, I think I’ve done myself and my father and yes, Mr Hannigan, even those dastardly Dollards, proud.’

I look at her and smile.

‘That you have, Emily. That you have.’

I feel as if I could sleep for a thousand years. My eyes close with the weight of all that has passed this night and all that has yet to come.

‘Are you alright, Mr Hannigan?’ she asks, those slitted eyes returning. ‘I bumped into Robert earlier, you know. He says he’s worried about you. Wouldn’t tell me why. But he told me to keep an eye on you.’

Fecking Robert. She takes out her phone, threatening me with it. Sets it down beside her drink. I raise my hand to her, waving it in some kind of ridiculous reassurance that all is well.

‘The drink, girl. It’s the drink. Don’t be worrying about me, I’m absolutely fine.’

I look away from her, over to Svetlana who is happy now: the Queen of the bar. Showing off her mastery in front of the boss as she serves the escapees. Emily sips from her glass and I wonder have I done enough to distract her.

‘She’s good isn’t she? That little one. A great worker,’ I say, attempting another diversion, pointing my drink in Svetlana’s direction.

‘Never mind Svetlana. What did Mother say about the hotel and your “involvement”?’

Feck.

‘She’s proud of you, you know. Proud of what you’ve achieved, of how you’ve saved this place. Turned it around.’

‘Really? I mean, she’s never said anything. Never shows one bit of interest in this place or what I’m up to with it.’

‘Parents are feckers that way. I speak from experience. But mark my words. She knows, she sees it and what’s more, she appreciates it.’ I move my hand to hers and pat it as it sits around the base of her glass.

‘So, she’s not mad, then?’

‘Well, she’s had a hell of a long time to get over it if she was,’ I laugh, ‘but no she’s not mad, certainly not at you, anyway. Be proud my girl. Be proud of how you’ve stood those Dollards tall again. Listen, my best advice is to talk to her. Talking’s good, apparently.’

‘And she told you about Thomas and his father?’

‘Aye.’

‘Awful, isn’t it?’

I take another sip of Midleton and then ask:

‘Do you think if I’d given back the coin on the day he dropped it from the window, would it have made any difference to his life at all?’

She looks ahead of her, her eyebrows raised and her lips pouting as she gives my question due consideration.

‘Now,’ she says after a bit, ‘there was a Dollard that no one, bar the man he called father, could have saved. Not even you, Mr Hannigan, even if you’d felt inclined.’

And she is so right – fathers have a lot to answer for.

I’ll admit I’m tired now, son. It’s been far too long a day. I’m ready now. Ready to get this over with. So I pat her hand one more time but she grasps mine. Holds it tight and squeezes it like it matters to her. I look at it and then her face. And there I see the bravery of her one last time. And then I do something that surprises even me, I reach across and kiss her on the cheek. Reluctantly, I let her hand go to take hold of the bar to ease myself down. On terra firma, I hold my near-empty glass and raise it one last time in her direction.

‘To killing the weeds,’ I say and swallow the last drop down before passing behind her and patting her shoulder as I go. ‘Goodnight, Emily, it’s been a pleasure.’ I head out towards the foyer and I know she’s there at my back with that bloody phone in her hand.

‘But, Mr Hannigan, wait. Maurice,’ she calls, far too concerned for my liking. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? You’re not driving are you? Let me get you a taxi at least.’

‘And why would I be in need of a taxi when I have this?’

I take the key of the honeymoon suite from my pocket and turn to hold it up to her.

It takes her a second to recognise exactly what it is.

‘You’re the VIP?’

‘I am,’ I say, a little bit of pride creeping into my voice, ‘but before I go up I think I’ll take the good Meath air.’

I leave her there with her mouth still open. Her concern bores into my back. She might ring Robert yet, I know, but it’s a risk I’ll have to take. I make my way to the door, tipping my cap to himself in the picture. I turn to see Emily one last time and point at it:

‘Uncle Timothy,’ I say, and then give her a smile and a wink before making my way to the open door.



* * *



Isn’t it funny how Tony and Molly visit me all of the time but your mother doesn’t. That one’s a bit of a mystery. Maybe she visits you instead. Maybe you talk to her, son. I’d like to think you do, as you go about your day, discussing what you might write next, asking her opinion. God, she’d just love that.

It’s raining now, one of those heavy July downpours. You know the kind that makes you think the roof of the shed might finally give up. I needn’t worry myself about those things. They’re someone else’s concern, now. Of all the things to make me sad tonight I hadn’t counted on it being the ricketiness of the shed. Rivers will rise and livestock will scare tonight, that’s for sure.