Revenge

‘Has she named anyone yet, Michael?’ Josephine kept her voice as neutral as possible.

He shook his head, unsure now if this news was actually as secret as he had first believed. Patrick had not said a word to him personally about any of it, he had heard it from Declan. Now he had a good idea why Patrick was keeping this news so close to his chest. If his own wife and her mother were not shocked at the news of Assumpta being pregnant, that could only mean they knew something that he obviously didn’t.

Michael shrugged carelessly, but he was a bit miffed. ‘I don’t know about that. Declan only told me because of Patrick’s extremely erratic behaviour of late. He has been so unpredictable, so fucking angry with everything and anyone. Patrick is obviously keeping all of this well under wraps, and who can blame him? But he is like a bear with a fucking sore arse and, when he finally does fucking let rip, God help the poor fucker responsible. He is like a man possessed. He’s ashamed into the bargain – I bet that’s the real fucking problem actually. After all, she’s still a kid, really.’

Josephine and her mother still didn’t say a word to him about Assumpta or her predicament. That was irritating him. He felt pushed out, as if he was a mug or a fucking outsider, who wasn’t deemed fit to know anything of importance. His good mood was slowly evaporating, and he was regretting his eagerness to discuss any of this with his wife or her mother. His amiable demeanour was gone in seconds and the women were immediately alerted to his changed mood. His voice was flat now, his irritation more than evident as he said sarcastically, ‘I am now assuming that you two ladies know more about this drama than I do. So come on – spill. I’m all ears.’

Josephine really didn’t want to be the one who told her husband about his closest friend’s daughter – well, daughters if all the talk was true. They had certainly kept it in the family anyway. If they had not been Patrick Costello’s daughters, their antics would have been the talk the town for a lot longer and with much more graphic detail. As it was, only a few of the women who were married to men with access to the inner circles had felt safe enough to discuss it amongst themselves, and they had never talked about it to anyone outside. It was far too dangerous. No one would want to be the person who informed Patrick Costello about his daughters’ private lives.

But both of his daughters had been putting themselves out there for a long time, with anyone and everyone who would have them, if the gossip was to be believed. Now Assumpta was pregnant, and it was going to be a whodunnit, there was no doubt about that. If there had been a regular bloke involved, then Patrick might have swallowed it, but that wasn’t the case. Assumpta had been taking on all-comers for a long time, and she was as brazen as she was available. It had been common knowledge amongst the women in the Costello world but, as always in these situations, the men had no inkling whatsoever.

Josephine could not help resenting the fact that girls like Assumpta managed to get a child without even trying, and grow it inside them without any problems whatsoever. If they didn’t choose to abort the poor child, they just pushed it out with the minimum of fuss. They treated childbirth and pregnancy without any kind of respect, they had no concept of the importance of what their bodies had achieved. Pregnancy was no more than a problem for them. It was just something they could choose to either continue with or, the more likely scenario, remove from their bodies, and then carry on their lives as if none of it had ever happened, as if they had never been lucky enough to have a baby inside them. A little baby that was healthy and snug inside a womb that would not let them down, would not suddenly expel the poor child from their bodies, leaving them not only devastated but, with each painful, bloody failure, feeling less and less of a woman, unable to do the one thing that was expected of them. It was so fucking wrong. She wanted, needed a child more than anything else in the world, yet she had miscarried one after the other. The only baby she had managed to carry longer than a few months had died inside her, and she had gone through the whole pain of early childbirth knowing she would get nothing at the end of it.

She realised that her mother was talking to Michael. She forced herself to listen to their conversation, but she was so hurt, so angry at life.

Martina Cole's books