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‘She could have tried to explain,’ I say, realising for the first time that I’m bitter she never thought I deserved an explanation. ‘She could have told them about how he hurts us. Showed them the bruises. Told them she didn’t want to go home. She could have asked for their help.’
Sketch shakes his head. ‘Even if folks believed her, they wouldn’t help. You know that as well as your ma does. You taught me how blind the eyes of Athenry can be to what they don’t want to see; and people don’t want to see a monster who doesn’t deserve his family.’
‘People should be ashamed,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ Sketch says. ‘They should be. But, they aren’t. Sure, they notice a black eye or a limp, but no one is brave enough to come between a man and his family.’ Sketch pauses as if the next sentence is painful for him. ‘And, I don’t think that will ever change.’
‘I do,’ I say. ‘I think things will change. But only if people learn to be brave and stand up for what’s right. I think someday men and women will be equal. I think a woman will be able to work and be a good mother, but only if that’s what she wants. I think men will respect a woman’s opinion. I even think Ireland could have a female president.’
‘Annie, I love your optimism,’ Sketch says, taking my hand. ‘Even after everything you’ve been through, you still have hope for the future. Don’t ever change, Annie Fagan.’
I spread my fingers, and Sketch’s fingers slip between them effortlessly.
‘Well, do make a change, actually,’ he says, lifting my hand to his lips to kiss the back of my hand softly. ‘Change your name. Become Mrs Annie Talbot.’
I sigh with heavy sadness.
‘And before you say anything,’ he adds with an attractive raised eyebrow. ‘Your mother is taken care of. She’s going to take up your job at my father’s farm.’
‘My job?’ I say.
‘Yes. Pops is going to need someone to look after him while we’re busy travelling Europe, just like we said we would.’
‘Sketch, that was just a dream,’ I stutter. ‘Fantasy stuff. I didn’t really expect it to happen.’
‘But it can happen, Annie. If we really want it to. I know you worry about your ma, but Pops will take good care of her. I promise. We won’t be gone forever, just a few months. I’ll sell my paintings, and you can read and write, if you want to. We can be real artists. I’ve enough money saved to keep us going for six months at least.’
‘Pa will just come looking for her,’ I swallow, trying hard not to get caught up in Sketch’s excitement. ‘He’ll drag her back, probably by the hair on her head. He’d make her pay for ever thinking she could leave. It would be horrible. I can’t take that risk.’
‘He won’t,’ Sketch says, foolishly certain.
I shake my head. ‘You don’t know him the way I do.’
‘Oh, believe me…’ Sketch’s eyes narrow ‘… I know exactly what he’s capable of. That’s why I want to get you both out of there as soon as possible.’
‘Sketch, this sounds wonderful, but I just don’t believe dreams come true as simply as all this.’
‘It’s not simple, Annie.’ Sketch stiffens. ‘I’m not pretending it’s simple. Dreams don’t come true with a click of your fingers. You have to make it happen. I think we are two people who can damn well give making it happen our best shot. I believe in us. Do you?’
‘But it’s not just about us.’
Sketch shakes his head, but his eyes are smiling. ‘Your father made a mistake.’
I snort. ‘He’s made a lot of those.’
Sketch smirks. He’s confident and attractive, and I so want to believe everything he’s saying.
‘About two weeks ago, your father got into a bar brawl. A big one, by all accounts. There was kicking and punching.’
‘He was yielding to a headache a couple of weeks back,’ I recall, unsurprised. ‘His mood was worse than usual that night. I thought he’d binged more than normal.’
‘The fight spilled out the door of the pub and onto the street. Half the town saw it. Folks are talking about how strong your pa was. Talking about how he pulverised one of the farmer’s sons from the far side of town.’
‘That’s terrible,’ I admit. ‘I hope the kid is okay, but I don’t understand how this helps Ma.’
‘A man with a back injury – too bad to work – wouldn’t have the strength to land a young farmer in the hospital now, would he?’ Sketch says.
‘I… I… I guess not.’
