He strode from the room, leaving acrimony in his wake.
Sometime later the light was fading and Ferdia loomed in the doorway.
What now?
‘You like some food?’
‘No. Well, okay – wait, is someone making something?’
‘I’m doing a stir-fry. You vegetarian? Okay. I’ll bring you some.’
Liam lounged, his legs over the arm of the chair, swigging from a bottle of beer. In the kitchen, Ferdia and his little friends were gathered around a wok. In good form, he idly scrolled through Facebook, half read two articles on cycling, took a look at Twitter … and realized that the three kids had moved outside to the deck. He twisted his body to get a better look. Wait a … Had they a joint on the go out there? Why would they sneak out on him? Did they … They couldn’t possibly think he was a disapproving adult?
He swung his feet to the floor and went outside. Barty had a reefer in his hand.
Suddenly Liam was angry. This was bad manners. ‘Hey! Why are you sneaking around with your doobie? Not cool.’
Ferdia and Barty exchanged amused glances.
‘Yup. It’s not cool.’ Barty wheezed with mirth and passed the joint to Ferdia.
Liam’s stare was cold. The little prick.
‘Give him a toke,’ Barty said to Ferdia. ‘G’wan, give the oul fella a toke.’
At this, Sammie lay back on the deck and laughed and laughed. ‘Sorry,’ she tried to say to Liam. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sat up again. ‘I’m not laughing at you. I’m just a bit …’
Stung and confused, Liam was trying to figure this out. Sammie was laughing at him. Barty did think he was old. It was total bullshit. Liam knew he was cool – he’d always been cool. ‘You keep your little joint, kiddos,’ he said. ‘Careful you don’t get too stoned.’
Tonight was the ‘relaxed’ part of the anniversary celebrations: a session and a sing-song in Canice Casey’s favourite pub. An open bar had been laid on for the townspeople who hadn’t made the cut for the lavish dinner on Saturday night.
Nell had had the foresight to borrow appropriate clothes. Tonight was a crisp cotton shirtdress in pale grey. She wound her pink hair into a bun on the crown of her head and shoved her feet into her ancient Birkenstocks.
In the living room, Liam was lounging on an armchair, several empty beer bottles on the floor beside him. Doritos bags littered the table.
Sammie looked up. ‘Nell! You look fucking amazing.’
‘Thanks, hon. Hey, Liam, we’d better go. You guys coming?’
‘Yep,’ Ferdia said. ‘Free bar, right?’
Liam narrowed his eyes at him. ‘Say what?’
‘Say what, what?’ Ferdia replied.
Oh, for God’s sake! ‘Where are the car keys?’ Nell asked.
‘What do you need them for?’ Liam said.
‘To drive the car.’
‘It’s only a few kilometres.’
‘I’ll be coming home on my own.’
‘Why’s that?’
You know why. ‘Because as soon as everyone’s drunk enough not to notice, I’m sloping back here to work.’
‘You won’t get parking in town.’
Nell noticed Ferdia watching this exchange. He seemed to be enjoying it and she felt angry. ‘And maybe I might,’ she said pointedly. ‘Let’s be positive.’
‘There’s a spot!’ Sammie said to Nell. ‘Just there. Your man is coming out.’
‘Thank you, you awesome creature.’
‘It’s a bit narrow,’ Liam said. ‘Don’t scratch my car.’
She took a breath. ‘I. Won’t.’
She slid the car in and the five of them piled out.
FORTY-FIVE
When Liam pulled the pub door open, a roar of heat and noise hit them. The place was rammed.
Nell spotted Canice standing about halfway down, big, balding, boomy, a pint in his hand. He was loudly holding forth, surrounded by those who probably depended on his patronage for a good portion of their livelihood. Bursts of raucous laughter accompanied his every remark.
Rose, beside him, perched on a high stool, dressed in a spangled cocktail frock, was similarly garlanded with sycophants.
Liam pushed his way through the crowd and Nell followed. ‘Congratulations, Rose,’ she said politely. ‘Congratulations, Canice. Fifty years. That’s, ah … awesome.’
She wasn’t certain if a hug might be in order. But the imperious bow Rose gave disabused her of any such notions.
‘Who’s this?’ her mother-in-law asked, with a cold smile. ‘Ferdia? Oh, Jessie’s boy. Good Lord, you’ve got very … hairy. And here’s Barty. Honestly, I feel I see Barty more than I do my own flesh-and-blood. Not that you’re my flesh-and-blood, Ferdia.’
Nell hoicked Sammie forward to introduce her, then set her free. Time to end this chat, before Rose got really nasty.
‘What’ll you have to drink?’ Canice bellowed at Liam.