Кен Бруен - A Fifth of Bruen - Early Fiction of Ken Bruen

“What.”

“I was just wondering. Having Serena-May, do you think we’ll change?”

“My mother says about me that I bring out the best in people.”

“Well, that’s true, you do.”

“But that they bring out the worst in me.”

“Ah, the old Irish back-hander, isn’t it. They praise but always the little sting in the tail... did she say anything about me.”

Cathy laughed.

“That’s the oddest thing. I don’t know what it means, but she said you make heavenly sandwiches. Do you, is this a hidden art?”

“It’s the little talk before that adds the spice, plus, they were bully beef.”

“You hate that.”

“Touché.”

And Serena-May gave a cry... “Feed me, Guys.”

Cathy told Frank of babies with Down’s Syndrome who were left at the hospital.

“How do you mean... left?”

“They don’t bring them home.”

“Ever.”

“No.”

“Good God.”

“People do adopt children with Down’s Syndrome. There’s a woman in America who’ll only adopt those.”

Heinz couldn’t believe this tiny person was here to stay. For the first few days, he sulked and ignored his food. They ignored him so he had to pack it in. Instinct told him survival depended on an uneasy peace. So he tolerated her. Not graciously, or with any dignity, but felt he’d no choice. Maybe there’d be bonuses in the whole business, but it wasn’t looking too hot. Already his daily walk had gone for a burton. Still, he reckoned, it could have been worse, they might have brought a whole tribe of these little people.

Frank was standing in Charing Cross Station when he noticed a group of children. An adult in charge of them said something and went to purchase tickets. They stood huddled together, a portrait of vulnerability and innocence. Then it clicked with him... Down’s Syndrome... and his heart burned. He wanted to rush over... and do what? An overpowering sensation of love and tenderness crept down his whole body. He could have wept.

If things had been otherwise, he’d not have given them a second glance. Serena-May was changing him in ways he’d never have expected. Perhaps the old idea was right, you learnt compassion from pain, especially your own pain.

Cathy was learning too. They’d arranged a date for the christening, and the women she wanted as Godmothers weren’t available. Time was running out, and she thought maybe it was fitting she ask Deirdre Rankin. Frank had mentioned her name the very first moment they’d met. Too, she’d sent Serena-May a beautiful present. She rang Deirdre at home.

“Deirdre, hi, this is Cathy.”

“Cath! How lovely to hear from you, how is the baby and Frank?”

“Oh, they’re wonderful.”

“You’re so lucky. As you know, I never had children, but I’m sure she’s a total joy.”

“The reason I’m ringing is... I’d like you to be her Godmother, if you can. We’d be delighted if you would.”

There was a long pause. “Deirdre, hello... are you there?”

“Am... Cathy... I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible, under the circumstances.”

“What... I don’t follow.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to take responsibility for a child... well, let’s just say of Serena-May’s type.”

Cathy was stunned, and it took a few moments before she could reply.

“Isn’t it odd, Deirdre, I’ve known you all these years and I never knew of your disability.”

“My what... did I hear you correctly... did you say disability?”

“Think about it honey.”

Dolores had begun to spend her days at the house. Frank said to Cathy,

“It’s good of your mother to help out, but she needn’t come every day.”

“You don’t want her here?”

He didn’t.

“It’s not that, I mean, I appreciate her help, it’s...”

“I’ll tell her you don’t want her.”

“Jeez, Cathy... forget it. I love her being here, it’s so challenging.”

And it was certainly that.

One morning Dolores was doing what appeared to be housework, but it was fairly minimal. Frank asked,

“Should Serena-May’s eyes roll like that?”

“I don’t know.”

Frank went to the phone as Cathy appeared.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m ringing Dr. Stevens, the baby’s eyes are rolling.”

“For heavens-sake, Frank, get a grip, the baby’s eyes are fine, it’s normal. But you’ve got to stop this ringing of the doctor. Morning, noon and night, you’ll drive him light.”

Sheepishly he put the phone down. It went like that, whole periods of peaceful time then moments of pure panic. They’d feel hopeful and confident of Serena-May then crash out on a chance remark.

Normal ordinary things that babies do had Frank charmed and terrified. He didn’t know if this were ordinary or the Down’s Syndrome manifesting itself. He said to Cathy,

“Isn’t she such a happy baby.”

And Cathy freaked.

“You’re saying she’s placid, is that it, I don’t want her to be bloody placid.”

“Well I tell you Cathy, she’s around you, I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

When Cathy took Serena-May for a check-up the doctor looked serious.

“Is something wrong, Doctor?”

“No, I was thinking it’s a double tragedy, really.”

Her heart pounded, the fear rushed to wallop her.

“I don’t understand, have you found something?”

The doctor pursed his lips. Cathy prayed.

“God oh God, let it be something I can live with, don’t let my baby have pain. Oh Jesus, don’t let her die.”

The doctor said,

“What I meant was, with the Down’s Syndrome it’s a double tragedy with her being a girl.”

Afterwards, Cathy cried a mixture of grief, rage and relief. A thousand replies she might have come back with and all useless now. Chief among them, the one she regretted most was,

“You insensitive bastard.”

Jim drained his glass, said,

“I tell you Frank, people never forget and rarely forgive.”

They were in the Cricketeers on a Sunday morning. The place was hopping.

“That seems a bit harsh, Jim.”

“Let me tell you Frank. A namesake of yours, Francis Bacon, are you familiar with his work?”

“I’ve seen some of it.”

“Yea, well, when he had nowt, he was caught shoplifting in Harrods. Twenty years later, when he was world famous, they refused him a credit plan. All he ever really wanted was to look at the flaming tapestries hanging there. But you see, after all that time, they still had his balls in a meat grinder.”

“Gracefully expressed, Jim.”

“I’ll never forget you Frank, for bullying me into being Godfather to Serena-May. I can’t tell you how good it made me feel. At that time, I needed a boost so badly. I love that wee bairn. I think of her all the time, God... I even dream of her!”

“You’ve been very good to her, Jim... and to us.”

Frank nearly said,

“And you actually sobered up there for a bit.”

Which Jim had, but it hadn’t lasted.

“That little girl Frank, she’s pure love. If there’s something wrong with her, we could all do with it. Doctors, Social Workers, they all talk about her condition... yea. How many of them talk about her. David Butler said,

‘The function of the expert is not to be more right than other people, but to be wrong — for more sophisticated reasons.’”

Frank liked that a lot, he wanted to write it down. Instead he went to the bar and got drinks.

Settling again, they sipped in silence for a time. Jim began again,

“Remember, before, Frank, I told you I couldn’t have been Godfather to your child... well, when Helen left, I went wild. But you already know that. What you don’t know is the nature of that wildness.”