Yesterday, Izzy had come bounding up the stairs, her curls hopping. She’d brushed past him into the living room, rattling a steel beaker onto the low table, thrown her coat onto the arm of the couch and flung herself into the tub armchair.
‘Fancy chair.’ She twinkled with mockery.
‘That’s me,’ he replied. ‘Coffee?’
‘Got my own.’ She nodded at the beaker. ‘Happy birthday. So? How are you?’
‘Jesus, you know yourself. Thanks for last night’s call.’
‘Yeah.’ She exhaled long and hard. ‘It’s been the longest few days. I can’t believe it’s only Friday. Do I look horrific?’
‘You look exactly the same.’
‘“Exactly the same”?’ She sounded offended. ‘The Johnny Casey I know can do better than that.’
‘You look lovely.’ He shifted in his chair.
He needed to stop this chit-chat. He’d endured four months of playing out a line without moving anything on. It was time to do some straight-out, bald-y asking. ‘So Michael’s definitely getting better?’
‘He won’t be running a marathon anytime soon, but … I thought he was a goner. When they said he’d be okay,’ her face lit up, ‘the relief was like, ha-ha, being on drugs.’
‘That’s how I felt when you rang.’
‘You were one of the first people I thought of. I guess something this serious shows you what’s important.’ In a quieter voice she said, ‘I’ve missed you.’
Here we go. ‘Me too.’ He was energetically cheery. ‘I’ve missed you all. That’s why … As you said, a shock like this puts things into perspective, so, Izzy, is there any chance we could move on from the past?’
‘Could who move on?’
‘Could all of you – you and Keeva, your mum and dad – forgive me and Jessie?’
Izzy’s gaze roamed over his face. Her mouth opened, as if to speak but she closed it again. Then. ‘We could be friends, Johnny. You and me.’
Oh, shite.
Well, his instincts had already been telling him this was a bust.
But had he played her? Had she played him? Were they both to blame?
His heart heavy, he said, ‘You know that Jessie and I have always thought the world of you.’
Her face froze. After a long moment of silence, she said, ‘Honest to God, Johnny Casey, you giant chancer.’
He sat, sheepish and mortified. Putting her through this was downright shabby.
‘I think we’re done here.’ Sweeping up her coat and coffee flask, she made her way to the hall and slipped through the doorway.
As she turned towards the stairs and disappeared from view, her knowing smile, that familiar despairing shake of the head, might have been genuine.
Leaning against the shut door, self-loathing, like sour milk, washed in his stomach.
Neither of them had got what they wanted.
This was over. Done. Finished.
‘You left her?’ Johnny yelped.
‘You left her?’ Liam demanded. ‘Ed, what the fuck is wrong with you?’
‘For once, Ed, could you just not … not …’ Johnny sought the words ‘… not be weird?’
‘Can you stop shouting at me? Just for a while?’ Ed said. ‘Which is my room?’
‘Seriously,’ Liam said, ‘don’t get too comfortable here. Either of you.’
‘Thanks a fucking bunch,’ Johnny said. ‘Thanks, bro.’
‘Paige might kick me out.’
‘Right. That’s … Yeah, that wouldn’t be great.’
‘Have you really left Cara? Have you told your kids?’
Ed could hardly bear to think about it. ‘Yes.’ It had been even worse than he’d expected.
Vinnie had cried. His little hardman of a son, crying because his daddy was leaving.
Tom had asked anxious, suspicious questions: ‘What sort of sick are you, Mum? Are you going to die?’ And ‘Dad, you’re supposed to mind her if she’s sick.’
‘I have to get strong by myself,’ Cara said.
‘But it’s only for a while?’ Tom insisted. ‘You’ll come back when she’s better? Mum, you will get better.’
Who knew whether she would or not?
‘You’ve really done that to your kids?’ Liam asked.
Kettle, pot. But whatever. This was better than Cara having another seizure. At least this way both of their parents were alive.
Monday
‘God almighty,’ Petey said to Nell, ‘you’re jet-propelled today. Splitting up from your husband obviously suits you.’ Then, ‘Did I upset you there? I was only –’
‘Stop. I’m fine. Give me something else to paint.’
There had been no contact from Ferdia. This was good, great even: it had cut out a lot of emotional noise, clearing her thinking.
She got it now: her fixation on Ferdia had happened because her subconscious was trying to distract her from what an arse Liam was. Things made sense and she liked that.
Jessie filled the kettle, tears streaming down her face. Cat gifs! Cats. They were