*
Rosie nodded and cried throughout the whole conversation. I felt furious with Michael for upsetting Rosie like this. If you were going to have an affair, surely there were better ways of announcing it to the world than in the front pages of newspapers. Making a speech at Celia’s party would have been preferable.
I checked my phone for messages. I had fifteen missed calls and texts messages. Clodagh had texted repeatedly.
The first one had been sent in response to mine from earlier.
Am alone in house with just a bar of Milka and a bottle of Baileys. All well.
But then her texts were charged with increasing panic as the news of the scandal spread.
Just seen papers. Call me.
Michael the Ken doll of politics? Surely some mistake!!!!!!
And:
Are you all right? Am now worried. Where are you? Get thee to a fecking signal.
And, there was a text from Red.
Let me know if you are all right.
For a moment, here is West Cork, I’d been beguiled by its magic. The cherry tree, the Sheep’s Head, Finty’s ramshackle caravan... but real life and all its dramas was waiting for both of us back in Dublin. We had to return and deal with it all. I could see why people ran off to West Cork, there was a sense that reality was suspended. But ours had to be faced. We’d go back to Dublin tonight and work out what to do.
Eventually, Rosie waved the phone at me. ‘Dad wants to talk to you,’ she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
‘I am so sorry.’ He sounded like he’d been crying. ‘I am so, so sorry. I don’t know what to say and I wish I could deny everything, but I can’t...’ He stopped suddenly. ‘Those feckers. This is what it was like for Diana, hunted by the paparazzi…’
‘Michael,’ I cut into to his ridiculousness. ‘It’s not the end of the world. We’ll just make sure that Rosie is all right. The rest we can sort out.’ I didn’t feel furious any longer, just irritated and exasperated. My marriage had ended not by a dignified, mutual parting. A grown-up shaking of the hand, but in a tabloid exposé. It was a mess.
But what would happen and where would Michael and Lucy live? Would we be like one of those happy blended families, all sitting around the Christmas table, laughing away, Celia gazing at us all fondly, all mater familias? Oh God, Celia. What would Celia say?
‘I just want to say how terrible I feel about this. I am so sorry. I have been such a coward and done it all so badly. I am sorry...’ He began to cry.
‘It’s all right.’
‘It’s such a terrible thing I’ve done, I mean, you must be so hurt and Rosie...’ He cried even more now at the thought of what he had done to his daughter. ‘I’ve been so awful…’
‘It’s fine, Michael. I’m pleased for you.’ I’m free, I was thinking. I was now free to do anything I wanted. Released from marriage to Michael. I should be thanking him. And Lucy.
‘But Tabitha, I want to say, I never meant to hurt you. I really didn’t.’
‘I know, Michael, and you haven’t hurt me.’
‘It’s such a betrayal, such an immoral thing to do…’ He almost sounded disappointed as though his sex scandal wasn’t quite as explosive as some other politician’s. If you were going to be embroiled within one, you may as well make it a good one, as his mentor Bill Clinton might or might not advise.
‘Michael, it’s Rosie who is important here. It doesn’t matter what you get up to…’
‘But my bill for standards in public life!’ he wailed. ‘It’s going to be voted next week. Europe is relying on me.’
‘Well, you should have thought about that before you started shagging Lucy.’
‘There!’ He sounded triumphant. ‘You are angry and hurt!’
‘No, I’m not,’ I insisted. ‘Just irritated that all you care about it the SIPL thing. You’re at the centre of a sex scandal. … What about Rosie? Have you given her one moment’s thought?’
‘Yes, yes, yes, of course,’ he said, dismissing me. ‘But you know the worst thing is …’
‘What? Pestilence, plague, a swarm of locusts?’
‘Well, I mean, one of the worst things’ he said. ‘I mean, up there with the worst things…’
‘Go on, what is it?’
‘There’s a misprint in the order of business for the parliament. It says that the bill on Monday, the one that the whole of the parliament will be voting on, well, it says it’s for… it’s for standards of pubic lice.’
I began to laugh.
‘It’s not funny,’ he said sulkily.
‘Are you coming home? We’re going to get on the road now.’
‘Yes, we’re taking the next flight home. I mean, I am taking the first flight home.’
There was something about Michael I was going to miss, but I twisted off my wedding ring and massaged the deep indentation, eighteen years I’d worn that ring but I slipped it into my purse. Even my finger looked relieved.
*
We had a long drive and it was already gone 11 a.m. and when we arrived at the caravan, Nora and Finty were still sitting outside, Nora wedged into the picnic chair, her legs propped up on another, bare toes waggling in the summer morning breeze. She looked exceedingly comfortable.
‘Flapjack, Tabitha?’ Finty gave Nora a wink. ‘I made them meself,’ he said, causing Nora to diffuse into giggles. And once she started, she didn’t seem able to stop and then she developed hiccups.
‘Mum,’ I said. ‘We’ve got to go. We’ve had some news and we just want to get back…’
‘Whatever for?’ she said, wiping her eyes and stifling her hiccups. ‘What’s the hurry?’
Rosie and I looked desperately at each other.
‘Granny,’ said Rosie bravely. ‘It’s Dad. He’s in all the papers. The front page…’
‘He’s got himself caught up in something,’ I stepped in. ‘A scandal. And we need to be back. He’s flying home and we thought we’d like to be there as soon as possible.’
‘A scandal?’ Nora said, her eyes like saucers. ‘The only scandal he’d get into is if he couldn’t find his vest of a morning.’
Now, it was Finty’s turn to begin crying with laughter, he was on his knees, slapping the ground and wheezing. Rosie and I looked at each other, puzzled. What was going on? Had they taken leave of their senses?
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but we’ve got to go,’ I said, feeling like the only grown-up in the field. ‘Michael’s flying back and we need to be at home. I’ll explain everything in the car.’
Nora carefully lifted her legs, one by one, off the chair and on to the ground. ‘Chill Tab,’ she said, exploding into laughter. ‘Chill Tab!’ she said again, giggling and spluttering.
Finty was now lying prone, convulsed by laughter, stuffing his filthy scarf into his mouth to stop the giggling.
‘Mum…’ I was cross now. ‘Michael’s had an affair. With Lucy. He loves Lucy.’
And this made her laugh even more. She fell onto the ground and lay supine, slapping the earth, tears pouring out of her eyes, crying with laughter. Finty, meanwhile, had managed to stagger to his knees, holding his stomach, as though his sides might split, tears of laughter pouring from his face. He rolled over onto his back, legs kicking in the air. For a dying man, he was showing remarkable signs of life. ‘I love Lucy!’ he shouted.
It dawned on me that there was something in the flapjacks that you might not give to children. Or sensible adults.
‘Mum…’
Nora was now lying spread-eagled, gazing at the sky above her.
‘So beautiful,’ she said dreamily. ‘So beautiful.’
‘Come on,’ I said, holding out my hand to pull her up. ‘We’re going. You coming?’ She held my and Rosie’s hand and we hauled her to her feet.
‘Goodbye,’ she said to Finty. ‘Goodbye, bold Fintan.’
‘Goodbye, Nora, sweet, beautiful Nora.’
‘Thanks for the fun times.’
‘Oh they were!’ He smiled at her. ‘And we’ll have more of them.’
‘That we will.’
‘I’ll see you in the big yonder. I’ll see you in the Elysium Fields. And we’ll hold hands and sing songs.’