Better Together (52 page)

‘Joe—’

‘Nevertheless . . .’ He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘Dad argued with her the night before she died. He told her that she was making a fool of herself over Sean Fallon and that people would start to talk.’ He closed his eyes briefly as he remembered, then turned to look at Sheridan. ‘I overheard them. I didn’t know what they were fighting about at the time, though, I only knew that it was scary. She was shouting at him, and eventually he shouted back. He told her he’d kill her.’

‘Joe!’

‘Afterwards, when she was found . . . I was afraid he had.’

Sheridan looked at him in shock.

‘I knew he wouldn’t have done it deliberately,’ said Joe quickly. ‘But I was terrified there’d been an accident. That
they’d had another row and she’d backed away from him or something . . .’

‘Oh, Joe.’

‘But then I found out that he wasn’t near the house that day, that he’d been at a meeting, I was so relieved. It must have been an accident after all. Later the papers started with their horrible insinuations and it was incredibly difficult. Dad felt he had to do something, and when he sued, oh, the
County News
, I think it was, well, that was that. The insinuations died down pretty damn quickly. When you mentioned the life-assurance payout, I thought I was hearing them all over again.’

‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘It was a reasonable question.’

‘But not a very sensitive one.’

‘I was angry. It wouldn’t have mattered what you said. But since then . . .’

She waited for him to compose himself.

‘When Mum died, it was as though she’d never existed. Dad did his best, but it was hard for him. He didn’t want to talk about it any more. He wasn’t – isn’t – a demonstrative man. Nor is he the kind of man who believes in talking about your feelings. Hell, I’m not that sort of man myself, but from time to time you need to . . . to say something. And what I want to say to you, Sheridan, despite everything, is thank you.’

She looked at him in astonishment.

‘Thank you? For what?’

‘I always felt guilty,’ he said. ‘At first for thinking that my dad had anything to do with it. But then – I think all of us, me, Sinead, Peter and Cushla, were all burdened with it. We
weren’t there when Mum died, that was one thing. And the other . . . well, we’d given her a lot of grief that day. We argued about going to the party. There was lots of bickering. We were all behaving quite badly. She was pissed off with us, told us we’d be the death of her. So when she was found, when I knew it wasn’t Dad . . . I thought she’d done it because of us.’

‘Oh my God.’ Sheridan’s eyes welled with tears. ‘Oh, Joe, what a horrible thing for you to live with.’

He grimaced. ‘I’m sure she would’ve hated for us for believing in any way that it was our fault. But knowing that her demons weren’t because of us makes a huge difference. It’s like . . . it’s like a burden’s been lifted from me.’

Sheridan was unable to speak.

‘I know you need to write what you have to write,’ he said. ‘I don’t like it, but I respect it. All I ask is that it’s balanced, at least as far as my mother is concerned. She might have done some very silly things, but she was a good mother to us, no matter how hard you find that to believe.’

Sheridan took a few steps away from him so that she was standing beside the swirling waters of the Bawnee River.

‘I wrote it last night,’ she said.

‘Oh.’

She could see defeat in his eyes as his shoulders slumped. ‘But I didn’t send it to Alo.’

‘When will you send it?’

‘I’m not going to,’ she said.

He looked at her in surprise. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s not what I do,’ she said. ‘I’m a sports writer. That’s what I love. And yes, I like to bring people to account if
they’ve done something wrong. But what I’ve never done, and what I’m not going to do now, is write about a situation where I’m personally involved. Nor do I want to hurt people I know. Nina, for example, who’s gone through enough already with that husband of hers. And Josh – I don’t want to be the one to call his grandfather a crook.’

‘My father isn’t a crook,’ said Joe.

‘A few months ago I would’ve liked to believe anything about your father,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to think he’s a crook either. That’s not why I’m staying out of it, though. Like I said, I’m personally involved. I know you all. I like your family. I . . .’ She shrugged. ‘I couldn’t do it. Truthfully – even if I wasn’t involved, I wouldn’t do it. It’s just wrong for me.’

‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ Joe’s eyes held hers and she returned his gaze confidently.

‘Positive. Even though Alo is pissed off at me.’

‘What about getting a job at another paper? Wasn’t this your passport in?’

‘In to what? More of the same sort of thing? I told you, I’m not interested. Something will come up and it’ll be right for me. This isn’t.’

‘Are you really doing this because of us?’ He was standing beside her now, his eyes searching her face.

‘I care about your family,’ she said.

‘Not them.’ He cupped her face with his hands. ‘Us. Me, you and the way we are together. The way you make me feel. The way I hope I make you feel.’

‘I’m not doing it because of us,’ she said. ‘I’m doing it because of me. Because of who I am. As for us . . .’ Suddenly
her smile was wide. ‘I’m glad there’s still an us. I’ve never felt as right with a person in my whole life as I feel with you.’

He smiled too. ‘That’s good,’ he said, and as he pulled her towards him, she’d never felt more sure of herself in her life.

The town was thronged with people celebrating the Spring Festival. The farmers’ market stalls were set up in the plaza, there were bouncy castles and other attractions at the schools and playing fields, and there was a steady stream of visitors to Perry Andrews’ Ardbawn Through the Ages exhibition of photos and newspaper cuttings.

The festival had been officially opened a few hours earlier by Paudie O’Malley, who said that he was proud of coming from such a vibrant town, and proud of counting most of the people in it as neighbours and friends. He said that he was glad to announce that the consortium his company was part of had won the Middle East telecoms bid, and that although they had been criticised for their lavish expenditure during the process, there was no evidence of any unethical dealings, as had recently been suggested in certain elements of the media. However, he added, they’d be revising their standards regarding entertainment in the future. He’d announced the company’s increased sponsorship of the football and hurling teams, as well as additional sponsorship for all of Ardbawn’s sporting organisations. He said that it was
good to see so many young people, including his grandson, involved in sports, and that it had been great to see a big write-up about their success in the
Irish Journal
recently. He looked down at the crowd when he said this and his eyes met Sheridan’s. She grinned at him and gave him a thumbs-up sign.

She’d written the piece as part of her assignment with her new employer. The day after she’d spoken to Joe at the riverbank, while she’d been sitting in the offices of the
Central News
, her mobile had rung. It was Jimmy Ahearne, the sports editor of the
City Scope
’s biggest rival, and he was asking her if she’d be interested in a position on their sports desk. He’d said that he’d been reading her tweets and her recent blog post about preparations for the next Olympic Games and he’d been very impressed by them. She’d had to remain very calm as she said yes and then agreed to meet him for a chat, but DJ had seen the beaming smile split her face and guessed that he was about to lose his temporary reporter.

She’d experienced a certain regret at leaving the
Central News
, but when she walked into her new office in Dublin’s East Point Business Park, with its views over the glittering waters of the bay, she felt as though she was coming home. The buzz hit her as soon as she sat down at her desk, and she already knew what she wanted to write about: the upcoming tour by the Irish cricket team as well as the continued success of an exceptional young swimmer. She planned to keep up her tweets and her blog too, and she’d also pitched the idea to Jimmy of giving more space to junior sports reporting, to highlighting promising talent and what was happening to support it in local communities.

Her first piece had been about the Ardbawn teams and had received good feedback, not only from Ardbawn (where the
Journal
’s circulation had quadrupled on the day the piece was published, which caused DJ to phone her and warn her that too many stories about Ardbawn would ruin him), but also nationwide. Talia had texted, reminding her that she’d always said Sheridan would find the right job (and telling her that finding the right man had been more than an added bonus); Alice and Pat were full of praise and congratulations for her dogged determination over the last few months, while her two brothers (who were big into social networking because of their sporting backgrounds) sent complimentary messages and re-tweeted links to her pieces. She’d basked in their good wishes as she settled into the new job she absolutely loved.

But, she thought, as she stood looking at the photos in the exhibition, it was nice to be back in Ardbawn, nice to see Nina and DJ and Shimmy and Myra, who had returned to the
Central News
, though having struck a deal with DJ so that she could work from home too. She’d even met Des Browne for the first time. He wasn’t slow about telling her that although she was a good writer, her reports needed more factual information. Statistics, he suggested, would give them an additional authority. She’d nodded gravely while he lectured her, and only managed to get away from him eventually by pretending she’d seen someone she desperately needed to talk to.

‘I hear you’re going to Paudie O’Malley’s tonight.’

She jumped and turned around. Ritz Boland was behind her, looking as stunning as ever, her long hair gleaming in the shaft of sunlight coming through the window.

‘Hi, Ritz,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’ll be there. How about you?’

Ritz nodded. ‘Everyone from the organising committee was invited. It’s very good of him.’

‘Indeed it is.’

‘And you’re invited because . . .?’ Ritz arched an impeccably shaped eyebrow.

‘Because I’ve got to know Paudie over the last few weeks,’ she said. ‘Because I used to work for the
Central News
. And because I’m going out with Joe.’ She smiled as she said this, and Ritz suddenly smiled too.

‘I heard about that all right,’ she said. ‘You Dublin girls. Coming down and robbing us of all our good men.’

‘Sorry,’ said Sheridan unapologetically.

‘Oh look, from the moment I saw the two of you together I knew,’ said Ritz. ‘There was a chemistry . . .’

‘There was, wasn’t there,’ agreed Sheridan. ‘It knocked me sideways. Still does.’

‘I think you’ll be good for him,’ Ritz told her. ‘You’re different to the rest of us. You’re so confident. You breezed in, totally disarmed DJ, wrote some great stories – including the school siege – and now you’ve even got Ardbawn on the national pages. You’re amazing. It’s like no matter what you do you succeed.’

‘Gosh.’ Sheridan looked bemused. ‘I don’t think of it like that at all.’

‘You should,’ said Ritz. ‘You’re just a natural-born winner.’

Sheridan laughed. ‘I’m not, but thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Ritz. ‘See you later.’

Sheridan watched her walk away and then turned her attention back to the photos. She saw the ones she’d chosen from Nina’s collection. They were a mixture of black-and-white photos from the 1950s showing young women in
printed blouses and long shorts and men in shirts and equally long shorts standing beside heavy bicycles, their hair blowing in the breeze and a look of excitement on their faces. The photos had been taken at various locations around the town and the surrounding area and they were all labelled ‘Ardbawn Cycling Club’. Sheridan had chosen them because the town was so easily identifiable, but also because the people in the photographs looked so eager and excited about their futures. And because although their clothes and hairstyles (and make-up in the case of the women) were different now, people were generally still the same. They still had hopes and dreams, and although they knew that not everything they wanted would come to pass, there was still a whole world of adventure stretching out ahead of them. At the time she’d picked them she hadn’t thought much about her own dreams. But, she thought, sometimes we end up living dreams that we didn’t even know we had.

Paudie had organised a meal in March Manor for the festival committee. This included Hayley Goodwin, Peggy Merchant and Nina Fallon, as well as Ritz, DJ, Perry Andrews and the young garda, Charlie Sweetman. Robbie Dunston, the platinum-selling rock star, had also come along and had promised to sing a few of his greatest hits for them. Paudie’s family were there too. Sheridan had been nervous about meeting them – she hadn’t seen any of them since finding out about Elva and Sean. She had, though, seen Paudie, who’d dropped into the newspaper offices before she left and thanked her for all her hard work. Then he’d spoken to her about his family’s history.

‘JJ tells me that you trashed what you’d written about us,’ he said.

‘Like I said to him, it’s not what I do.’

‘Thank you,’ said Paudie.

‘Maybe someone else will write about it some day,’ Sheridan warned him. ‘After all, Sean is very much in the public eye still. And I hear he’s been signed up for more episodes of
Chandler’s Park
, so he’s bound to be in the news again.’

‘I’m not sure that Sean wants his involvement to come out either,’ said Paudie. ‘It’s not a story that shows him in a particularly good light, no matter how much his publicist might try to turn it around. It was a sad time in all our lives. Sometimes you just have to move on.’

Sheridan nodded. She felt she knew a lot about moving on. She was getting good at it herself.

‘I’m sorry about your job at the
City Scope
,’ Paudie said. ‘It wasn’t my decision to get rid of you.’