‘It’s been an emotional time for him,’ says Lesley and, although again I know she means well, it irritates me that she can’t possibly have any clue of how anyone who witnessed what I did might feel. Plus, I can very much speak for myself.
‘I’m glad we went,’ is as much as I can muster. ‘It was very worthwhile. Now, please excuse me for a second. I need to speak to my father.’
I can hear my mother and Lesley whisper in low, worried tones as I leave them to make my way to the garden. I see himsitting there in the distance with his back to me, on a large custom-made lounger by a dainty white cast-iron table under an oak tree in the shade. A small portable CD player sits by his side and I can hear his choice of music, always Beethoven, grow louder and louder as I make my way towards him.
I practise what I’m going to say in my head, just as I’ve done the whole while when Lesley and I were sharing our picnic at a nearby forest park, the beautiful scenery and fresh air exactly what I needed to calm me down and let it sink in that I only encountered Kate ten years later than I should have because of him and his blind ignorance.
‘You’re back,’ he says, not taking his eye off the novel he is reading. He doesn’t turn the music down either, so I do that for him. A glass of fresh lemonade sits on the round table beside him and the birds sing in the trees above him as soon as the music stops. He lives a life of great luxury here and always has done. He has no idea of struggle or trauma and – for a man in the role he has taken on – he has little empathy. My resentment for him rises like bile in my throat.
‘Yes, I’m back, but we are leaving almost straight away,’ I say, clutching my mug of coffee. ‘Today was worthwhile in many ways, before you ask, not that you were going to. I’ve no doubt you don’t really care.’
‘That’s good. That’s really good to hear,’ he says, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses. He turns the page of his novel, licking his finger to do so.
I stare at him until he at least has the grace to look my way. As always, I can see the disappointment in his eyes. The one-time law student, second-chance RAF pilot turned science teacher. I don’t live up to his expectations. I know I don’t.
I wait for more, but he doesn’t speak. I just stand there, and he sits, and we stare, man to man, father to son, eyeballing and waiting, like a game of chess, on who will make the next move.
It’s my turn.
‘Why didn’t you tell me she called here all those years ago?’ I ask.
I’m not sure whether it’s the tone of my voice or what I have just said, but he puts the book down at last. He doesn’t need to ask me who I’m talking about.
‘Ah … Miss Foley?’
I nod. I had no idea what her surname was, but I believe we are on the same page.
‘Kate,’ I tell him. ‘Why did you send her away?’
He tuts and reaches out his hand to lift the book again, but I slam the mug I’m holding down on the table, fury overtaking me. I want to smash it on the ground right here in front of him.
‘You had no right!’ I tell him through gritted teeth. ‘No right whatsoever to cast your judgement on someone I would have given anything to have seen just one more time! You have no idea how often I’ve longed to see her again!How I’ve wondered where and how to find her! How dare you? You have no idea what we went through together, and luckily for you, you never will!’
He winces as my voice rises and I can feel my chest rising up and down rapidly.
‘She doesn’t belong here,’ he says, looking me firmly in the eye. ‘Her type is not—’
‘Hertype?You have no clue about her type at all!’ I tell him. ‘You’re supposed to be a man of the cloth, yet you judged her without knowing one single thing about her!’
He stands up now. He reaches just under my chin and he leans on a stick, but his voice is as big and bellowing as ever.
‘I know of her family and that’s enough!’ he yells at me. ‘Her mother served time in prison for hiding firearms in their home! Did you know that?’
I take a step back. My breathing is rapid, and my time is running out, so I daren’t mince my words.
‘That’s nothing to do with Kate and, anyway, I was old enough back then to decide for myself if she was worth the risk,’ I tell him in hushed tones.
I had no idea of her mother’s background, but I actually don’t care right now. Those days are gone, and I won’t let history hold me back like it has previous generations.
‘You were young enough to be fooled into a world where you don’t belong, David, and where you will never, ever fitin,’ he says. ‘You don’t belong with them, especially not with someone related to Annie Foley! Stay away from them!’
I check over his shoulder to make sure my mother or Lesley aren’t within hearing distance of our raised voices. I don’t care about Kate’s family beliefs, I don’t care about her upbringing, I don’t care if she landed down here from the moon. What I care about right now is that he kept her from me at a time when I needed her, even for just one day, and then I could have decided for myself the way forward, just like I can do now.
‘“For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged”,’ I say to my father, quoting his precious Bible, a verse that was drummed into my head from as far back as I can remember. ‘Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own?’
He looks stunned, like a rabbit caught in headlights, and I know I’ve got him. I’ve summed him up in a nutshell. He knows exactly what I’m referring to in his own torrid political history where he has taken a vow of silence for matters he should have spoken up against – confessions he’s heard from his own congregation, forgiveness of evil that should have been brought before a court of law. There are rats in the gutter on both our sides of the community, Catholic and Protestant, Republican and Loyalist, and I won’t stand here and let him preach that one is more wholesome or righteous than the other. Those days, for me anyhow, are over.
‘She is not our kind,’ he says, lifting his chin now in defiance. ‘I do not want her or her people around my home.’
