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Hugh was followed inside a few moments later by a skittish-looking Katie, and then Shannon and Johnny, who Mam had instructed to take Lizzie up to my room.
By the time Mam restored order, our guests had wisely returned inside before any police showed up, leaving only myself and Patrick outside with the grown-ups.
“What in the name of God happened?” Mam asked in a calm tone of voice. “One minute they were all joking and laughing, and the next they were tearing strips out of each other.” Frowning, she added, “I know Hugh is no angel, but he’s not one to fist fight.”
“It’s my fault,” Sadhbh was quick to blurt out, pressing a hand to her chest, as tears trickled down her cheeks. “When you called to say Gerard was after drinking too much, I should have come and got him myself.” Sniffling, she added, “I sent Keith instead.”
“And he sent me,” Mark growled, spitting out a mouthful of blood and then dabbing at his busted lip. “You’re lucky I like you, Sinead,” he continued. “Because I have a good mind to press charges.”
My father opened his mouth to respond, but Mam placed a steadying hand on his arm, letting him know with that simple touch that she was well able to deal with this man. “I appreciate that, Mark,” Mam said, using that superhuman willpower and professional politeness that all nurses seemed to possess. “And I can assure you that he won’t be getting off lightly with this.”
I was quite sure that my mother had treated some morally questionable patients in her time, and it had prepared her for handling scenarios like this one. Like the scumbag standing in front of her.
My parents didn’t like Keith Allen, and I knew for a fact that Dad in particular loathed Mark, but they loved Sadhbh and adored Gerard.
When everything went to hell six years ago, Mam and Dad had made the joint decision to both stand by and support what was left of Joe Gibson’s family. Especially Gerard, who was my father’s godchild. They had taken a lot of stick for their decision, namely by the Young family, but they had held firm and remained a constant in Gerard’s life.
Speaking of … “Where’s Gerard?”
When none of the grown-ups answered me, clearly too busy kissing ass and calling truces, I looked to Patrick.
“He took off down the street earlier.”
“He did?”
Aw, crackers.
“Come on.” Sighing wearily, Patrick reached into his pocket and grabbed his keys. “I’m sober. I’ll drive.”
54
Drowning Sorrows and Memories
GIBSIE
Numb, I sat in the corner of the lounge in Biddies bar, with an untouched pint and a storm raging inside of me.
Ignoring the Halloween festivities happening around me, I drummed my fingers against the table and pondered my next move. Running the entire way into town wasn’t exactly the most sensible thing I had ever done, but I’d needed to get out of there before I lost it. Before I said something I would undoubtedly regret. The words that threatened to come out of my mouth held heavier restitution than I could bear to pay back.
But I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t exhausted from carrying the weight of my secrets. The weight of the blame. The truth was I wanted to tell someone. No, the truth was I wanted to tell Claire. But I couldn’t seem to find a way to open the can of worms I’d spent so many years sealing.
Where the hell was I supposed to go now?
Not home, that’s for sure, and I couldn’t go to the Biggses’ house. Not when I knew she would be there.
It was so fucking hard to hate her when Lizzie cried like that.
When she made those sounds.
Because I knew those sounds.
Those sounds haunted my nightmares.
Even in my drunken stupor, I knew that I would never make the walk to Johnny’s place in one piece. If I hadn’t left my keys at the house, I could’ve bunked down in the bakery for the night.
“What’s up, buttercup?” a vaguely familiar voice asked. Moments later, a curvaceous woman dressed as Catwoman, leather mask and all, plopped down on the bench next to me. “You look like you’re contemplating taking a bubble bath with vodka and a razor.”
“Maybe I am.”
