“I told you, I had an appointment.”
Glances were exchanged: What was going on with me? But then word came that the Devereaux people were on their way up and everyone stapled on their happy faces.
Wendell—in her yellow Big Bird rig-out—went first and gave a pretty dazzling display. Then it was my turn. I watched myself do my pitch, almost as if I was standing outside of my body; I was full of adrenaline, my voice was louder than usual, and I laughed a little too bitterly when I pointed out my scar, but nothing else untoward happened.
I answered their tricky questions with perfect ease—I was letter-perfect after the countless hours of practice. Then it was all over and hands were being shook and they were gone.
As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, I walked out of the boardroom, leaving Ariella and Franklin staring after me in bewilderment.
Back at my desk, Teenie said, “How’dit go?”
“She couldn’t do it. She had the contractors in.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, the pitch. Fine, fine.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“Right. Messages for you. Jacqui rang. She’s breaking the news to Narky Joey tonight. Does she have chlamydia?”
“No. I’ll tell you when Narky Joey knows.”
“’Kay. Then Kevin rang. You know Kevin, Aidan’s brother?” I nodded wearily.
“You’ve gotta call him, like, now. He said it was way urgent.”
“What kind of urgent?”
“It’s okay. No one’s dead. I asked him. So just regular urgent, I guess.”
That had probably been Kevin on my call waiting this morning. With sudden curiosity, I switched on my cell phone; there were two messages from Kevin.
Why did he want me to call him? Why was it urgent? And all at once, I knew why. Kevin wanted to talk to me for the very same reason that Aidan wouldn’t.
Uneasiness, which had existed, wraithlike, at the back of my mind for months, abruptly moved to the forefront.
I’d hoped this would never happen. I’d even managed to convince myself that it wouldn’t. But whatever this was, it was coming to a head; I was powerless to stop it.
I had to talk to Leon.
I called him at work. “Leon, can I see you?”
“Great! How’s Friday sound? There’s a Sri Lankan restau—”
“No, Leon. I need to see you now.”
“But it’s ten-thirty. I’m at work.”
“Fake something. A meeting. A sore tooth. You’re important. Just for an hour, Leon. Please.”
“And what about Dana?”
“It’s not that kind of meeting, Leon. Can you be in Dom’s Diner in twenty?”
“Okay.”
I announced to the desks around me, “I’m going out in ten minutes, I’m taking an early lunch.”
Lauryn didn’t even answer. She didn’t care. I’d messed up so badly by almost missing the pitch that I was probably going to be sacked anyway.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: All is revealed
Dear Anna,
How in God’s name did you know?! Was it a lucky guess? Do you have a sixth sense? Or did Helen tell you? Yes, Nan O’Shea is the woman your father “dumped” for me. She has carried a grudge all these years. Isn’t it a gas? Who would have thought that someone would feel so strongly about your father?
It all came out when I made your father come over with me to her house to “front her out.” We rang the bell and the front door was opened very “forcefully,” then your woman spots your father and “fell to pieces.”
She said, “Jack?” And he said, “Nan?” And I said, “You know this woman?”
Your father said, “What’s going on, Nan?” And she said, “I’m sorry, Jack.”
I said, “You’d bloody well want to be, you raving lunatic,” and your father said, “Sshh, sshh, she’s upset.”
She brought us in for a cup of tea and your father was all chat, sitting down and accepting Hobnobs but I remained “standoffish.” I am slower to forgive.
Anyway, it all “came out.” She had been heartbroken when your father “kicked her to the curb” and had never forgotten him. As Rachel would say, she has “never moved on.” (A flogging offense, to hear Rachel talk about it, it is nice that the child has had an education but sometimes…anyway, don’t mind me getting on my “hobbyhorse.”)
I asked your father why he hadn’t recognized the name and he said he didn’t know. Then I asked Nan O’Shea why she had started pestering us only recently and warned her not to say that she didn’t know either. She said she had lived “away” for many years. Up close she has the look of an off-duty nun, like she might have joined the missions, badgering those misfortunate Africans, but it turned out that she has been living in Cork, working for the ESB, since 1962. She has recently “retired” and moved back to Dublin. (I was quite shocked as I had thought she was much older than me.)
Your father was all palsy-walsy, and when we were leaving Nan O’Shea said. “Maybe you’ll drop in for a cup of tea once in a while, Jack.”
“No,” I said. “He certainly won’t. Come on, Jack, home.”
So that’s the end of that. How are things with you? Anything strange at all?
Your loving mother,
Mum
80
Leon was already there. I slid into the brown vinyl booth opposite him and said, “Leon, I know this is hard for you, and if you have to cry, feel free. I’m going to ask you some questions and I’m begging you to be honest with me. Even if you think you’re going to hurt me.”
He nodded anxiously. But that was no indication. He did everything anxiously.
“The night that Aidan died, he was about to tell me something. Something important.”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know. He died, remember?”
“Sorry, I thought you meant…So how do you know he was going to tell you big stuff?”
“He’d booked a table for us at Tamarind.”
“What’s funny about that? Tamarind is an ‘exquisite spot for Brahmins and their bankers.’ Direct quote from Zagat.”