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Gripping the back of his shirt, I released a shaky breath and kissed his cheek once more before forcing myself to leave.
* * *
“I’m telling you,Trish, that young lad’s father is septic,” I heard my father say when I walked into the kitchen later that night. “A good for nothing drunk. You should have seen the way he told the poor lad about his grandfather dying the other week. It was heartless, love. The man is heartless,” he continued, not noticing me – or my pricked ears – as I hovered in front of the fridge, pretending to busy myself with rearranging a tray of eggs. “You should have seen the look in his eyes.”
“Poor Joey,” Mam said with a sad sigh.
My heartbeat quickened at the sound of his name.
“Poor lad is right,” Dad agreed. “And then he tried to bribe a few bob out of the boy for the pub.”
“You’re joking?”
“I’m not, love. He actually asked the young fella for money.”
“Jesus, that’s desperate, Tony.”
“Tell me you’re joking,” I demanded and then quickly stifled a groan when I realized that I had outed myself.Ah crap.
“What are you doing ear-wigging over there, young lady?” Mam asked. “It’s after eleven. Don’t you have school in the morning?”
“I’m only in the door from work,” I explained, gesturing to my uniform. “Am I not allowed to eat something before I go to bed?”
“There’s a pot of stew on the stove,” Mam said, as she continued to iron – yes, the woman never stopped – the corner of one of Kev’s shirts.
“How are ya, my little pet?” Dad smiled warmly up at me from his perch at the table. “Was it busy down the pub tonight?”
“It was packed for a Monday night,” I replied, kicking off my heels, and untucking my white shirt from the waistband of my black, mini, pencil-skirt. “Mam, I need a new pair of black tights,” I added, gesturing to the hole in the ones I had on, while I grabbed a bowl off the draining board and half-filled it with my mother’s stew. “I snagged my leg on the corner of a table I was serving, and some old fella asked me if it was a ladder I had in my tights or a stairway to heaven.”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “I hope you gave him a good clip around the ear.”
“Didn’t have to,” I replied between mouthfuls of stew. “His wife did it for me.”
“The cheek of some of those old men,” Mam sighed. “There’s a spare pair in my wardrobe. I’ll fish them out for you later, pet.”
“Thanks, Mam.” Turning my attention back to my dad, I asked, “So, you’ve met Joey’s dad?”
“Met him?” Dad shook his head. “I went to school with the man.”
My eyes widened, curiosity piqued, as I quickly slurped down what was left in my bowl. “I never knew that?”
“Ah, he was in the same year as myself and your mother,” Dad explained with a nod. “We weren’t in the same circle of friends, but we knew him well enough.” Frowning, he added, “I’m sure he played hurling with your principal, what’s his name…”
“Eddie Nyhan,” Mam offered.
“That’s the one,” Dad agreed with another nod. “They hurled together back in the day.”
“Sounds like you know a lot of him?” I offered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, when I was desperately feeding my Joey Lynch addiction with all of the juicy details. “Do you know his mam, too?”
“Marie Murphy?”
I nodded. “She’s Marie Lynch now, but yeah.”
“She was years younger than us,” Mam explained and then turn to Dad. “Do you remember, Tony? Wasn't it awful when he got that poor girl pregnant when we were in sixth year.”
“Do I what,” Dad grumbled, rubbing his jaw. “She was only a baby herself at the time.” He flicked a glance to me and said, “She was a couple of years younger than you when she had a baby on her hip, Aoife.”
“Really?”
