The Heart's Invisible Furies

“No, but I’ll get lost in this place if I try to find you. I have no idea where I’m going.”

A few minutes later, the doors of the elevator opened and Alice, looking elegant in her Christmas outfit, stepped out and beckoned me over. I leaned in to kiss her cheek, inhaling a breath of perfume, lavender and rose, that brought me instantly back in time to dates, engagement parties and weddings of the past. “You’re not going to run out of the hospital before the baby’s born, are you?” she asked.

“Hilarious,” I said. “That joke never gets tired, does it?”

“Not to me, it doesn’t.”

“How’s it going anyway? Is there any news?”

“Not yet. We’re waiting.”

“Who’s up there?”

“Just Laura’s parents,” she said.

“Where’s Liam?”

“He’s in with Laura, of course,” she said as the doors opened and we stepped out onto the corridor. A sound to my left made me turn around and I noticed a middle-aged woman embracing two small children, locked in grief with tears streaming down her face. Our eyes met for a moment before I turned away.

“Poor woman,” I said. “Has she lost her husband, do you think?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know. It seems like the natural thing to assume.”

“I suppose so.”

“On Christmas Day too. How awful.”

“Don’t stare,” said Alice.

“I’m not staring.”

“You are. Come on, they’re down this way.”

We turned a corner and made our way down a corridor that was almost deserted except for a middle-aged couple sitting in the waiting area. They stood up as we approached them and I extended a hand when Alice introduced us.

“Cyril, you remember Peter and Ruth, don’t you?” she said.

“Of course,” I replied. “Happy Christmas. Nice to see you both again.”

“Happy Christmas to you,” said Peter, an enormous man bursting out of an extra-large shirt. “And may the blessings of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, be with you on this momentous day.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Hello, Ruth.”

“Hello, Cyril. Long time no see. Alice was just talking about you.”

“All bad things, I imagine.”

“Oh no, she was being very complimentary.”

“Don’t mind them,” said Alice. “I haven’t said much about you at all. And if I did, I’m sure it wasn’t very nice.”

“Well, this is a great way to spend Christmas morning,” I said, smiling as we all sat down. “I was hoping to be at home with the mince pies.”

“I can’t eat mince pies,” said Peter. “They give me terrible gas.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Although I must admit I ate four before I left the house earlier.”

“Right,” I said, sitting back from him a little.

“I keep the mince pies locked away,” said Ruth, smiling at me. “But he always manages to track them down. He’s like a truffling pig!”

“Maybe you just shouldn’t buy any,” I suggested. “Then he wouldn’t be able to find them.”

“Oh no, that wouldn’t be fair to Peter,” she said.

“Right,” I said, glancing at my watch.

“If you need Mass,” said Peter, “they have one in the chapel here at eleven.”

“No, I’m grand.”

“They do a lovely Mass here. They really put the effort in since it’ll be the last one for a lot of the patients.”

“We got Mass last night,” said Ruth. “So there’s that to be grateful for at least. I couldn’t face it later.”

“I’m not really the Mass-going type, to be honest,” I said. “No offense.”

“Oh,” she said, sitting back a little and pursing her lips.

“To be honest, I haven’t been inside a church since Alice and I got married.”

“Well, don’t brag about it,” said Peter. “That’s nothing to be proud of.”

“I wasn’t bragging. I was just saying.”

“If you’d known it was your last time in a church, you would have made the most of it, wouldn’t you, Cyril?” said Alice, smiling at me, and I smiled back.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Where did you get married?” asked Ruth.

“Ranelagh,” said Alice.

“Was it a lovely day?”

“It was a lovely morning,” said Alice. “It seemed to go downhill a bit after that.”

“Well, the ceremony’s the important part. And where did you have your reception?”

“The Shelbourne. You?”

“The Gresham.”

“Nice.”

“Let’s not talk religion,” I said. “Or weddings.”

“All right,” said Ruth. “What will we talk about then?”

“Anything you like,” I suggested.

“I can’t think of anything,” she said, looking distressed.

“Do you think I should get my rash looked at while I’m here?” asked Peter.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I have a terrible rash on my unspeakable,” said Peter. “This place is full of doctors. Maybe I should get one of them to look at it.”

“Not today,” said Ruth.

“It’s getting worse, though.”

“Not today!” she snapped. “Peter and his unspeakable! He’s a martyr to it.”

“The snow never came,” I said, desperately trying to change the subject.

“I wouldn’t believe the weather forecasters. They’re all in it for whatever they can get for themselves.”

“Right,” I said.

“Did it take you long to get over here?” asked Ruth, looking at me.

“Not long, no. The roads were empty. You don’t get too many people out on a Christmas morning. Has there been any news at all anyway?”

“Not for a while. She’s been in labor for a few hours, though, so I expect we’ll hear something soon enough. It’s exciting, isn’t it? Another grandchild.”

“It is,” I said. “I’m looking forward to it. How many do you have now?”

“Eleven,” said Ruth.

“That’s a lot,” I said.

“Well, we do have six children. Peter here would have had more if I’d let him,” she continued. “But I said no. Six was enough. I closed up shop after Diarmaid.”

“She did,” agreed Peter. “The shutters came down and they haven’t been lifted since.”

“Stop it, Peter.”

“She might as well have put a sign on her unspeakable saying, Gone to lunch. Won’t be coming back ever.”

“Peter!”

“Isn’t the paint on the walls a funny color?” asked Alice, looking around her.

“Who sang that song ‘Unchained Melody’?” I asked.

“Cyril and I might try France this summer,” said Alice.

“I have an ongoing pain in my left knee that doesn’t seem to be shifting,” I said.

“I always wanted a big family,” said Peter with a shrug, ignoring our desperate attempts to stop talking about their private parts.

“Six was plenty,” insisted Ruth.

“Six is more than plenty,” said Alice. “I thought one was difficult enough.”

“Well, of course, there were the two of us to look after them,” said Peter. “You didn’t have the same luxury, Alice, did you?”

“No,” she said after a brief hesitation, perhaps wondering whether she should defend me in front of outsiders. “Although Liam’s uncle was very involved. He helped me a lot in the early years.”

I threw her a look; we liked to tease each other, but our jokes rarely if ever involved Julian.

“You and Liam are very close, aren’t you?” said Ruth, looking at me.

“Well, we’re doing well, yes.”

“The poor boy needed a strong father figure, from what I hear.”

John Boyne's books