They stopped at the next decent-looking restaurant. When they parked, Denis shot Billy a pointed look. “We should let Adam go ahead, we’ll follow in a few.”
“That’s all right,” Billy said with an edge. “We can all go eat now.” He didn’t feel like listening to one of Denis’s sermons, or going over the Twelve Steps. It was lunchtime. He was only human and had his needs and wants just like everyone else. And he was going to need to fortify himself. They had a big afternoon ahead, about to poke around the remains of hearts destroyed.
*
The small, busy restaurant required patrons to order and pay, and then sit down. Billy stood in wait, tormented by delicious-looking platefuls of meat and potatoes, and fish and chips, and fruit tarts with fresh cream. Christ, those juicy burgers, greasy fries, and creamy coleslaw. That oozing tart thick with apples, its crust thin and golden. They served fresh whipped cream, too, and not that fake stuff. Billy’s heart raced. He was one customer away from the cash register. It was his turn to order next. The stress of what lay ahead at the Hallorans threatened to make him crack all over again. He could scream with how much he wanted everything he couldn’t have.
It was going to be killing to face the Halloran family and see double his pain and horror mirrored back to him. The thought made him ravenous. He would eat big just this one more time, to dislodge the maw of dread in his gut. Even as he tried to rationalize, guilt blazed across his chest. If he caved now, he’d let himself, everyone, down. He cringed, imagining the other customers’ horror if they saw him stuffing himself. From the glances he was getting, it was clear most everyone recognized him. Some were openly staring. Others nodded and smiled. A few fell to whispers. He couldn’t stop trembling. Even his head was shaking. He’d gone so long being invisible, this starting to be seen, this starting to be held so very accountable, sometimes felt too hard.
So much good had come from his going public. That was what he had to hold on to. He’d enjoyed a flood of pledges since Matters with Maeve, bringing the total amount of monies promised to just over eighteen thousand euro. Put the factory’s fifteen thousand on top of that and he’d pulled in pledges of more than thirty-three thousand and counting for the Samaritans. Filming was also under way for his documentary, tens of families coming forward from all over the country to participate. He’d continued to drop his weight, too, and had lost a total of one hundred and ten pounds, bringing him more than halfway to his goal.
“Ah, it’s yourself. What’ll you have?” the red-haired, middle-aged cashier asked with a warm smile. It was like she was greeting an old friend.
He licked his lips. “I’ll have the chef’s salad, please, no cheese. Is it possible to get the poached salmon with that?”
“It is, of course.” She smiled brightly, her face round and freckled, her shiny eyes blue-green.
He smiled back. He hadn’t let the demons win.
*
The closer they got to their destination, the more Billy felt trapped inside a missile locked on its target. He started to second-guess the wisdom, the humanity, of doing this. He wouldn’t want a trio of strangers with microphones and cameras landing in on top of him and his family, especially so soon. The Hallorans would only just have marked their daughter’s Month’s Mind mass. He reminded himself the family had contacted Adam. They wanted to do this.
Adam pulled over and double-checked the map on his phone. In the field next to them, a herd of sheep watched, their wool marked with purple dye. Even now, the supersized bruise on Billy’s stomach remained as dark and glaring as ever, branding him every bit as much as the purple on those sheep, showing what had owned him. The back of his neck tingled. Showing what still owned him. Adam pulled back out onto the road. The van gathered speed, zeroing in.
After stopping twice to ask for directions, they arrived at the ill-fated home. Billy felt he was being held underwater. Adam parked at the front of the house, giving himself away as a Dublin man and ignorant of the custom in the countryside of entering a home by the back door.