Алекс Баркли - I Confess

‘Hello? Hello?’ It was a man’s voice.

‘It’s Terry,’ said Dylan. ‘We’re dead.’

Murph stood up from the dining-room table and reached out to Laura. ‘Come with me.’

She frowned. ‘Where?’

‘Just do as you’re told,’ said Murph, taking her hand.

‘Where are we going?’ said Laura.

‘Shhht.’

As they walked down the hallway, Terry was coming towards them. He slowed.

‘Did you see Johnny, lads?’

‘He’s around somewhere,’ said Murph.

‘How are ye enjoying the night?’ said Terry.

‘Grand out,’ said Laura, without breaking her stride.

Terry nodded as they passed.

Murph laughed when they were out of earshot. ‘“Grand out” meaning “Fuck you”!’

‘Good enough for him, the skeevy bollocks,’ said Laura.

Terry met Johnny coming up the stairs to the basement. A flash of irritation crossed Johnny’s face.

‘I had to come in,’ said Terry, shrugging. ‘I couldn’t find you. Have you five minutes? There’s something you need to see in the chapel.’

Murph held open the door to the honesty bar for Laura and she walked through. He turned on the flashlight on his phone and started checking each bottle, tilting the labels into the light to read them. He glanced back at Laura.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘I’m taking you on holiday. We are going on the Pisco.’ He held up a bottle of 1615 Pisco Torontel. ‘I’m assuming you went to Peru on these South American travels of yours.’

Laura’s eyes lit up. ‘Ah, Murph — you’re a dote.’

He put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. ‘Well — it might take you back. But I’m hoping it’ll take you forward too.’

She looked up at him.

‘Don’t shut your life down, girl,’ he said. ‘You’ve another fifty years in you, yet. Nothing to stop you.’ He paused. ‘Apart from those shite-looking kids.’

Laura laughed. Murph poured the drinks, and raised his glass. ‘The life!’

‘The soul.’

‘The ass.’

‘The hole.’ They clinked glasses.

He gestured to the window. ‘Madame, a seat? Overlooking the pitch-black?’

They sat opposite each other, and drifted into a brief silence.

‘Do you not think it’s fucked up, though?’ said Laura. ‘That they bought this place? After everything...’

‘But you know Edie,’ said Murph. ‘Look at the renovation job she did on Johnny.’

Laura laughed.

‘Mind you,’ said Murph, ‘I think he’s already started the demolition job.’

‘Ah, leave him alone,’ said Laura. ‘In fairness, the place always gave me the creeps, even when I was a child. I’d hear Dad talk to Mam about it when it was an industrial school and he’d be called up to “put manners” on the boys — that’s what Consolata would say to him. There were a couple of “Houdinis” he’d call them. He was told they were under “strict supervision” by one of the Brothers but they’d still manage to get out and they’d be found wandering the roads or drinking down in The Anchor. He said it was the boys making a big show of saying their prayers were the biggest brats. They’d be in and out of the chapel the whole time, Consolata thinking she was doing the Lord’s work. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how they got out, except for one of the Brothers being in on it.’

‘Sure, of course they were,’ said Murph.

Laura eyed him. ‘Are you getting any weird kind of vibe tonight?’

‘No,’ said Murph. ‘What kind of vibe?’

‘Between Johnny and Patrick,’ said Laura.

‘I thought you were going to say, “Johnny and Edie.”’

‘What?’ said Laura. ‘Are you serious?’

‘No — I just wanted to shit-stir. But no — I’m not getting a weird vibe anywhere.’

‘I’d say Johnny’s not too happy not being the fittest man in the room.’

Murph sucked in a breath. ‘Harsh.’ He sat back and looked around, stopping at Johnny and Edie’s wedding photo on the sideboard, gesturing to it with his glass. ‘Do you think they’ll make it to twenty-five?’

‘Sure, why wouldn’t they?’ said Laura.

‘It’s a bit like doping, though, isn’t it?’ said Murph.

Laura’s eyes widened. ‘He’s not cheating, is he?’

Murph raised his eyebrows. ‘You tell me.’

‘Me?’ said Laura. ‘Would you fuck off?’

‘No. I’m going to fuck right on.’ He smiled. ‘Come on — was he giving you the glad eye at any stage?’

Laura sputtered into her drink. ‘“The glad eye”! I couldn’t tell you the last time I heard that.’

‘Well, just so you know — my eyes are always glad to see you... every time I fondly reminisce about your... skills.’

‘Jesus. Don’t remind me.’

‘Excuse me’ said Murph. ‘You should be very proud of yourself.’

Laura rolled her eyes. She turned her head to the window.

‘Are you actually mortified?’ said Murph.

Laura looked at him. ‘Not about you. But I do look back sometimes and think, “What was I like?”’

‘You were amazing!’ said Murph. ‘Johnny and I used to always say Laura gives the best—’

‘Jesus Christ!’ said Laura, sitting up, glancing towards the door. ‘Would you shut up?’

Murph laughed. ‘She’d hardly give a shit at this stage, would she?’

‘Of course she’d give a shit.’

‘She always knew Johnny was a boyo.’

‘Not with me she didn’t.’

‘Ah, she must have had her suspicions,’ said Murph.

‘Are you mad?’ said Laura. ‘She’d never have thought Johnny’d lower himself to me.’

‘Mind you — if she knew you fucked up his Final Trial for Ireland—’

‘Murph — shut up! And I did not fuck up his Final Trial. That was all Johnny.’

Murph tipped his glass towards Johnny’s glory wall. ‘Do you not think, though, that if you hadn’t happened to bump into him in Dublin that night — wasn’t he on his way back to The Shelbourne? — then he might have been tucked up in his bed and not out punching the head off someone in Leeson Street?’

‘Why are you going on about that now?’ said Laura. ‘Are you trying to make me feel like shite? That was Johnny’s call. It’s not my fault he fucks things up for himself. And, anyway, I was the one got him out of trouble. Now, can you just shut up about it? I’m trying to enjoy the thing he actually hasn’t made a balls of.’

After a while, Murph turned to her. ‘Do you reckon she ever got into the swing of blow jobs in the end — Edie?’

‘The shit that goes through your head,’ said Laura.

‘I’d say yourself and Frank are at it the whole time — are you?’ said Murph.

‘You need help,’ said Laura. ‘Has it been a while?’

‘Bless me, Father — it’s been three weeks since my last indiscretion. Laura’s here beside me, Father. You remember her — one of your biggest sinners. Would you like to say a few words to her? Do you miss her? I know I do.’

Johnny and Terry stood inside the chapel, their eyes on the wall to the left, where Terry was shining the beam of his torch through the outline left behind when one of the confession boxes had been ripped out. Spray-painted in red, was the word KERR-O-SENE, and beside it, the stick figure of a girl, and around her head, a crown of flames.

Johnny turned to Terry. ‘Jesus Christ. Don’t tell Edie. Fuck’s sake. Don’t tell anyone.’

‘Can you smell it?’ said Terry. ‘It smells fresh.’

Castletownbere

23 December 1989

Johnny was stretched out on the sofa, one leg on the floor, the opposite arm up over his head. His green rugby shirt rode up, showing a taut stomach. The doorbell rang. He lifted his head, and through the net curtains could see a squad car.