Pain shot through Billy’s chest, thinking of all the things Michael was.
“Would you say, Mr. Nevin, there was anything unusual or out of character about Michael Brennan that night, or at any time leading up to his death? Did you have any cause for concern?” Feeney asked.
“No, none. I’m as in the dark as everybody else.”
Feeney excused Ronin, and called Kitty to the stand. Ronin returned to his seat, his head down and his Adam’s apple working hard. As Kitty approached the table, Tricia’s crying intensified. Billy tightened his hold on her.
Kitty started and stopped several times, her voice shaking. She confirmed she had found Michael’s body on the date and time given, and had immediately phoned 999 from her mobile.
“And you stayed with the—” Feeney looked down at the file next to his clasped hands. “With Michael Brennan until the police and paramedics arrived?”
Sergeant Deveney stood up amid the empty rows of chairs. “That’s incorrect, Mr. Feeney—”
Feeney raised his hand. “Mrs. Moore has the stand now, thank you.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Feeney.” Sergeant Deveney sat down, his face beetroot.
“No, sir, I didn’t stay,” Kitty said with a small sob, her eyes fixed on the coroner. “To tell you the truth, sir, I got such a fright when I saw him that everything afterwards is a bit of a blank. When I first came across him, I couldn’t take it in for a few seconds, and then … then I realized.” She wiped at her nose with a tissue. “I returned home. I didn’t know what else to do. I’d only seen him for a moment and didn’t know it was Michael. I only knew it was a young man and he was … gone, and the most awful feeling came over me, and I … I had to get away.” Her throat made a deep sucking sound. “I knew there was nothing I could do for him and that the police and ambulance would have no trouble finding him, so I went home and left him to God. First thing, I lit a candle in my kitchen, got down on my knees, and prayed for him and all those he’d left behind.”
Tricia cried into her hands. John made a strangled sound. Billy wrapped his arm around them both.
Feeney excused Kitty. Once she’d returned to her seat, he scanned the small group with sympathetic eyes. “That concludes today’s proceedings, thank you.” He removed several sheets of paper from a folder. “My findings, including autopsy and toxicology reports, are consistent with the testimonies offered and I declare the cause of the demise of Michael Liam Brennan to be suicide by hanging.”
He walked to the front row and handed Billy a large brown envelope. Billy reluctantly removed his arm from around Tricia and John. Feeney pumped each of their arms, repeating his condolences. The brown envelope shook in Billy’s hand. He didn’t care if he ever opened it. The certificate might document the cause of death, but it didn’t explain what had broken inside Michael. Didn’t help them with how to go on.
Thirteen
Billy had spent the last couple of hours trying to write a catchy song for the march, a tune along the same lines as those drill songs soldiers used. So far, he’d only managed to pull one decent line of lyrics out of himself, No more, no more, taking your life, and was just circling a second, worthy line when Anna and Ivor clattered through the back doorway.
Ivor trailed his sister into the kitchen, dragging his backpack after him. “Pick up that bag,” Tricia said. “You’ll rip the bottom out of it.” Ivor looked as if something had been ripped out of him. He continued toward the hall.
“Not so fast,” Billy said. He sat Ivor down. “What’s going on?”
“Did something happen?” Tricia asked, standing over the boy.
“Come on, what is it?” Billy said, knowing he and Tricia were both wishing they could have this conversation with Michael.
“I hate school,” Ivor said. “I’m never going back.”
“Sorry, that’s not an option,” Tricia said, smiling.
“What’s so bad about school?” Billy asked. He saw a flash of himself as a boy in the schoolyard, the other lads pointing and laughing because his supersized trousers were a lighter shade of navy than the official uniform. The same boys had also elbowed him and tripped him up during football training, saying he was fat and useless, and should quit.
Billy coaxed the story out of Ivor. During religion, Miss Cunningham had asked the students to imagine what they would do with God’s powers. “When I said I’d talk to the people in heaven, Cormac Cullen laughed.”
“What did Miss Cunningham do?” Tricia asked.
“She told him to be quiet, said what I said was lovely and that he shouldn’t laugh. Then she patted me on the head like I was a baby or something and Cormac Cullen started sniggering behind his hands.”
“Don’t mind him,” Tricia said. “There’s obviously something wrong with him.”