Алекс Баркли - I Confess

‘I’m sorry for the pair of you having to see that,’ said Murph, ‘but it’s all the same to me — it’s still all my fault.’

‘It isn’t,’ said Edie. ‘I hate to think you think that.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Murph. ‘It is what it is.’

Edie stood up. ‘Can I get you anything before I go?’

‘No, no — I’m fine out,’ said Murph. He sat up. ‘Do you know where Laura is? She was only supposed to be going to the ladies.’

‘God knows,’ said Edie. ‘Will you be all right here?’

Murph nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll get a grip.’

Edie smiled. ‘Good. You should be enjoying yourself.’

‘I am!’ said Murph. ‘I was! You can’t leave me alone for a minute...’

Edie pulled open the door a fraction, and as she slipped through it, she paused and turned back. ‘Oh — and please keep that to yourself, OK?’

Murph watched her hand slide down the door and disappear as it closed behind her.

Helen lay in bed, with an upturned book on her chest, staring at the ceiling.

There was a knock on the door. ‘Helen! Helen! Are you awake? It’s Murph!’

She turned towards the door. ‘Yes. I’m in bed. But come in!’

He pushed the door open. ‘It didn’t feel right. The birthday girl. Are you lonesome?’ He paused. ‘Or were you dying to get away from us?’

Helen laughed. ‘I was... I actually was lonesome.’

‘Well, that’s shite.’ He looked around the room. ‘This is fabulous.’ He looked down at her. ‘Can I come in for a cuddle?’

Helen laughed. ‘You’re mental. Of course you can.’

He hopped on to the bed beside her, and shifted over. He put his arm around her, and she put her head against his shoulder. He gave her a squeeze.

‘What are you doing down here?’ said Helen. ‘I hope I didn’t break up the party.’

‘Well, I hope you’re not here thinking shite stuff about yourself. Seriously. It’s Happy Birthday. Why wouldn’t I be down here? Because you’re in a wheelchair?’ He looked over at it. ‘Do you want to go for a spin for the craic? In your nightie.’

She laughed. ‘Murph, I love you.’

‘Good! Because I love you too!’ He kissed the top of her head and put his hand against her cheek. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘what’s this? Not tears.’

Helen let out a shaky sigh. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize to me,’ said Murph.

‘Look at this place,’ she said.

‘I know!’ said Murph. ‘All down to you.’

She laughed. ‘Not all down.’

‘All the important bits,’ said Murph. ‘All the award-winning bits.’

‘I... I...’ She started to cry. ‘I don’t want to be an expert in this.’

Murph, his head against hers, closed his eyes at the words and held her a little tighter. ‘I know, pet. I know.’

‘I was an expert in adolescent psychiatry,’ said Helen. ‘I was a director of nursing, I gave talks to hundreds of people on psychiatric nursing, my staff came to me for advice.’ Murph handed her a tissue, and she blew her nose. Then she sat up a little straighter. ‘I’m still an expert in adolescent psychiatry!’

‘Exactly!’ said Murph. ‘You can spot young mentallers from a hundred feet.’

Helen sniffled and laughed. ‘The others were all talking about kids and anxiety earlier and no one asked me a thing.’

‘Ah, but that wouldn’t have been on purpose.’

‘No — I know,’ said Helen, ‘I do. And I’m not offended. Seriously. But sometimes it feels like... my slate is wiped clean. The wheelchair comes in, and steamrollers over everything. I am now the Woman in the Wheelchair. If someone wanted to narrow me down, that’s who I am. Do you know Helen? You see her around town. She’s the Woman in the Wheelchair. It doesn’t matter who I am or what I did. I was strong, I was fit. Now I’m Poor Helen and God love her and the Woman in the Wheelchair.’

‘You could go over there and be the woman in the wheelchair in the window and we could write a book about you.’

Helen laughed. They fell into silence. Murph kissed her head a few times. ‘I’m doing this for the view.’

Helen slapped him, and adjusted her nightdress.

‘Stop wrecking my night!’ said Murph, pulling her hand away.

‘Oh, Murph, I wish you were around more,’ said Helen. ‘I miss the craic. I’m so... I’m just at home all day, all night... doing what exactly? What’s the point of me? If I was gone, what difference would it make? You know when you read obituaries and they say “died surrounded by family”? What am I going to have? “Died surrounded by... eggshells”.’

‘That’s a good line,’ said Murph. ‘I’ll put that in the woman-in-the-wheelchair book.’

Helen laughed.

‘Listen — you’re not dying, and unless you fall out of that while you’re making your breakfast, there’ll be no eggshells involved. And if that does happen, you’ll die knowing you’ll have given me a brilliant story for the funeral.’ He paused. ‘Do you want me to do the eulogy?’

‘Oh God — do,’ said Helen. ‘Please do.’

‘Helen — or the Woman in the Wheelchair as she was known to most — made her last omelette this week. The Woman in the Wheelchair in the Kitchen with the Eggshells...’ He paused. ‘Speaking of which... I realized earlier: you know what Edie and Johnny could do? They’ve got a study, a kitchen, a conservatory, a Billiard Room, a library, a dining room... they could do those swanky sex parties... with a Cluedo theme. Lewd-o.’

‘You could be the spanner,’ said Helen.

‘That’s my girl!’ said Murph. He laughed. ‘Right — I better get back to the others.’ He slid his arm out from under her, and knelt up on the bed. ‘But I do want to say one thing before I go: most beautiful girl in the room tonight.’

Helen smiled. ‘Aw, thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’ He looked around. ‘Jesus, I could stay here now, happy out for the night.’

‘Why don’t you?’ said Helen.

Murph stood up. ‘Because you’re in a wheelchair.’

Helen burst out laughing. Murph danced across the room, then blew her a kiss from the door.

Castletownbere, Beara

10 February 1984

Murph took the replica Aer Lingus plane from his bedside locker and flung it across the room. The only reason he had it was because his mam was dying, and his uncle had come back from America to say goodbye. Murph was delighted with the plane even though he was too old to play with it. But he didn’t know then that you could look at a thing — a toy, or a game, or a pair of pyjamas, or a pillowcase, or a coat in a wardrobe — and it could upset you. He only found that out when his mam died. And then he lay there thinking about how sounds can even make you sad — like bracelets banging off each other when someone was giving you a hug. And then he thought about smells, and decided they were the worst and the best of all of them.

Today, he’d been sitting on a bench in the square, because his dad was in the pub, and the Sergeant’s wife came up to him, Laura’s mam, and she was a lovely, gentle lady. And she asked him how he was, and he said he was OK, but he knew he looked sad, because he was sitting there, sticking his legs out in front of him, staring at his shoes. And she had crouched down in front of him, then, and said to him, ‘I’ll never forget what your father said once, years ago, before you were born. Did you know your parents waited ten years for you to come along? And your dad said to me: “Wouldn’t it be an awful shame if people thought myself and Nora weren’t a family because we didn’t have a child?” And well, that’s what I think now, Liam — wouldn’t it be an awful shame if people thought yourself and your dad, no matter what, weren’t a family?’