The Business (6 page)

There was a story there all right, only he knew that, given Gerry Dooley’s natural reticence, he would not be getting it any time in the near future.

As Gerry downed another large Scotch and immediately motioned for another, Jackie wished that he had the nerve to remove him from the premises, but he knew he wasn’t capable of doing anything like that. Not to Gerry Dooley or to anyone, come to that. He didn’t have the bottle to assert himself without a Gerry Dooley beside him, orchestrating the proceedings, and he knew that a lot of their contemporaries were now well aware of that fact. It was one humiliation after another lately, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

The landlord of the pub made eye contact with him then, and he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t noticed it. Shrugging, Jackie opened his arms in a gesture of supplication, rolling his eyes as if he had no choice in the matter. He could feel the animosity coming off everyone around him, knew that they thought he was a complete ponce for allowing this to carry on as long as it had.

As far as they were concerned, he should be keeping his boss on the straight and narrow, protecting him, ironing out any differences for him until such time as he got his head back to normal, had got over whatever lunacy had overtaken him. This was the first time in living memory that Gerry Dooley had ever stepped out of line, and that just made this all the more conspicuous.

Sighing heavily, Jackie looked meaningfully at Gerald Junior and his brother Brendan and, in fairness to them, he knew that they were pretty much in the same boat as he was. Unable to spread their wings without their father’s say-so, and wary of confronting him because they didn’t know what would be the outcome. Gerald Dooley, for all his so-called decency and loyalty, was no better, really, than the bullies he despised. Because everyone in his world was only welcome provided they did as he expected, as he saw fit. That fact was becoming more and more obvious as the days wore on.

As Gerry walked out of the pub with his sons in tow, Jackie looked around him, at the people who mattered and, blowing out his lips noisily, he said with a deliberate and theatrical pretence at loyalty, ‘What? Can’t a man have a few drinks?’

Then, picking up his own drink, he looked around him as if disgusted with the reaction he had encountered, aware that he was not fooling anyone.

He was determined, though, to find out what the big secret was, because he knew that if Gerald Dooley had wanted him to know what was going on, he would have heard about it by now.

 

Imelda was lying in bed. She could hear her father ranting and raving and, even though she understood how disappointed he was in her, she still couldn’t equate that cold-hearted, vicious person with her father. With the man who had brought her up with hardly a raised voice or a cross word. Until now, he had indulged her, not as much as her mother had admittedly, but enough to make her think she was safe, that she was different to the boys. He had let her have more freedom than them because he had believed that his name, his reputation, should have been enough to protect her. That was also the reason why she would not say who the father was to her mother or brothers: until her father calmed down, he was best kept in the dark.

She pulled the sheets over her head, trying in vain to blot out the sound of her father’s angry swearing and her mother’s pathetic attempts at placating him. Anyone would think she was the only girl in the world to get in the club.

Imelda slipped out of the bed and, standing by her bedroom window, she saw that most of the neighbours were in their back gardens, listening to the furore that was now a common occurrence in the Dooley household.

She knew that most of the women had guessed the cause of Gerald Dooley’s sudden lunacy, and she knew it would not be long before everyone knew.

Imelda wondered if Jason’s mother had given him the message that she had left with her. Jason knew better than to call her at home, but he could still leave a message with her friend Belinda. In fact, she was actually wondering if Belinda was keeping his message from her. In her more paranoid moments, when she wasn’t envisaging Jason under a car, or a bus, she actually wondered if he was just ignoring her. But that couldn’t be. He had to know what deep shit she was in. Even though Imelda didn’t know what she expected him to do, she wanted him to at least acknowledge her in some way. Even if it was only with a message through Belinda. But she knew in her heart that Belinda had seen him, she knew that she had, and if he hadn’t anything to say by now, he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

Imelda finally had to admit that she was on her own, that there was no way out. She was trapped in this nightmare for the duration. Trapped with a child that it seemed no one wanted, least of all her. Her mother was more frightened of the priest than she was of her own husband, and after his carry-on that was a serious fear, because her father was terrifying everyone at the moment.

She glanced around her bedroom. A few months ago this had been like a haven to her, had been where she came sleep off her excesses. Where her mother brought her cups of tea and bacon rolls, and where her father came to kiss her goodnight, or bung her a few quid. It had been a friendly place, somewhere she had felt safe, had felt loved. Now though, it was a hostile environment, it was suddenly full of dark corners and drab furniture. It was the last place she wanted to be on this earth, but she had nowhere else to go. Had no other option open to her. Imelda had hoped in her heart that Jason might have been moved to offer her somewhere to go. Even though she knew that was ridiculous, it was amazing what the human mind latched on to in times of extreme crisis. That a baby, an innocent child, could have caused all this grief was unbelievable. But she knew it wasn’t the child that her father was focusing on, it was the way the child had got there.

She could hear her mother’s voice once more, still trying to calm her husband down, trying to quieten him so the neighbours didn’t get another earful of his ranting and raving. She could almost feel the spit that she knew he was spraying over anyone within a two-foot radius.

The fear was back again, like a big, black cancer eating away at her. She knew that Jason had abandoned her. All her usual bravado, her loud-mouthed persona that her family’s name had always allowed her to get away with, had deserted her.

Even her brothers had no real time for her any more, they just wanted some kind of closure, an end to it all. They saw her as the catalyst for their father’s destruction, and she was, she knew she was.

Until now Imelda had not understood just how much she had lost. School had been a breeze thanks to her mother, and her brothers. When she’d been chucked out, her mother had sorted things for her. In fact, until now her whole life had been pretty much as she wanted it. Her father’s reaction, his extreme reaction to her latest escapade had thrown her completely. She would have lain money that she could have got away with murder where her father was concerned, and she had a feeling that had she committed a murder it would not have had this much of an effect.

Her father would have moved heaven and earth to help her out then, that was something he could have understood. Anger, violence. In his world they were everyday emotions. But sex, sex or love, he had no real concept of, at least not where his baby was concerned anyway.

Her mother had kept him from her door for weeks, but she knew that was not going to last for ever, he wanted answers, and he wanted them sooner rather than later. A pregnancy did that, time was not on her side, and her mother couldn’t keep him from hammering her for much longer.

Imelda could picture the scene outside her bedroom door, knew from the sounds and the scuffling that her mother was holding her father back, was preventing him from bursting in on her. She also knew that her father, until now, had allowed her mother this one thing, to allow Imelda to remain strong about the father’s name. Because, like his wife, he didn’t want to know really. Because once he pushed it, once he knew, he would have to do something about it. She had relied on that for a good while, but unfortunately no one had come knocking with the offer of a wedding ring. And she had even allowed herself to imagine that happening, had prayed for such a happenstance. And then she had pondered why it was the female who was made to feel as if they were the main culprit when it was the father’s fault as much as theirs.

‘Would you ever fuck off, woman, and let me sort this once and for all?’

Imelda heard the sound of her mother’s body as she was thrown down the stairs, heard her muffled cries as even in her pain she was still too embarrassed to let on to the neighbours what was actually happening.

As her bedroom door slammed against the wall Imelda flinched involuntarily and she automatically tried to protect her baby, a baby she didn’t even want. A baby she couldn’t even envisage.

Her father grabbed her by her hair, dragged her upright, and she could hear her brother shouting at her, ‘Who the fuck is it, Mel? Just give him a fucking name for Christ’s sake, before he really hurts you.’

She knew her brothers were more worried about her father than they were about her, didn’t want him to get nicked. That was their biggest fear; he was bankrolling the lot of them, and if he didn’t get over this latest drama, they would all be left out in the cold. There was a big part of her that understood that, and she wanted to stop it as much as they did, but unfortunately she was too frightened of him.

As her father pushed his huge fist into her face, as she felt the strength of him, she knew that he was capable of killing her. Never in her life had she felt so exposed, so vulnerable.

‘Please, Dad, please . . . don’t hurt me . . .’

Imelda looked into the face of the man she had loved all her life, and she saw nothing familiar. He was a stranger to her, and she knew then that she was a stranger to him. Since the news of her pregnancy he had taken the time to re-evaluate her status in his community and had decided that she amounted to nothing. His pride was worth much more than her well-being.

It was a real wake-up call and, as always, it had come far too late for her to benefit from it in any way.

‘Tell me who the cunt is or I’ll break your fucking neck.’

He meant every word, she could hear it in his voice and feel it in his anger. She knew then that he had finally reached the end of his patience, that tonight was her last chance to redeem herself in his eyes.

Her mother was still trying to pull him off her, was attempting to place herself, her own body, between her daughter and her husband.

But Gerald Dooley shrugged her off as if she was a fly, knocking her against the bedroom wall without a second thought. ‘I’ll fucking stab you, you loose whore you, before I see you make a fucking eejit out of me.’

Imelda saw her brothers standing in the doorway of her bedroom and knew that they were not going to intervene on her behalf. She saw her mother looking at her with fear and she knew that she was finally lost. She knew that Jason had abandoned her, knew that he had left her to her own devices, had so little regard for her and her family that he was confident of her silence. It was then that she knew what she was going to do. Knew then how she would pay him back for her humiliation.

Looking into her father’s eyes she said tragically, ‘He made me, Dad, he forced me. I didn’t want to . . . I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t know how to. I was scared.’

She was crying now and they were real tears, tears of relief that she had finally found a way out of her dilemma. Relief that she had finally found the words to stop her father’s anger and sense of betrayal. Relief that she had finally found something permanent, had finally found something realistic enough to make her father believe in her once more. Relief that she had finally found a way to make Jason Parks pay for his treatment of her. She was a woman scorned now and she wanted him to know just how fucking hard the last few weeks had been because she had tried to protect him. She had given him plenty of time to step up to the plate and take responsibility for her child, while putting up with her father’s wrath, with her father’s disappointment in her.

Let him see how far he got now the cat was well and truly out of the bag and she had put the onus on to him. She was almost laughing now at the thought of what Jason was going to have to go through. Let him have a taste of his own medicine. Let him deal with her father and his anger and his hate. She was finally done with it all, she wanted revenge now, nothing more and nothing less. Let that bastard have a taste of her old man and his outdated beliefs. The more she thought about it, the more she warmed to her theme. She was a reckless girl, and she was known for doing reckless things.

Without thinking it through, without understanding the long-term consequences, Imelda decided that this would get her out of this trouble looking like the innocent, would bring her back into her father’s good books. The plan was working, her father looked crushed, defeated by the turn of events.

‘Who forced you, child, who did this to you?’ Already Imelda could feel the difference in her father, she could feel the change in him as he understood what she was telling him. She could see the softening of his features, hear the plea in his voice as he asked her again, gentler this time, ‘Give me a name, child, you know his name?’

Imelda nodded, her face a mask of tragedy and pain, throwing herself into the role of the victim as she instinctively saved her own life and her own reputation. ‘It was Jason Parks, Dad. He raped me.’

Then he was hugging her to him, his huge arms enveloping her, making her feel safe once more, as he had always made her feel since childhood.

He was weeping now, telling her how sorry he was for the way he had treated her, begging her to forgive him for not realising that she was the innocent party. And, as he hugged her, Imelda saw the way her mother was looking at her, saw the accusation in her eyes and she knew then that this had gone too far. As did her brothers, who were silently watching the little tableau from the landing, both their faces devoid of anything even remotely like an emotion. That she couldn’t stop this now, even if she wanted to. It was one lie too many, and she could never take it back.