‘Alternative accommodation?’ He shot up from the chair. ‘Alternative accommodation? Would you listen to yourself? What are you fucking talking about?’
He watched her staring off into the corner of the room. ‘Is this because of that priest?’ he asked.
‘Oh, Jesus Christ,’ he heard her whisper.
He walked to the kitchen sink and reached under it for the whiskey bottle, took down a tumbler from the cupboard, and poured himself a large measure.
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t know?’ she asked. ‘God, I never thought you’d insult my intelligence like that.’
He took a gulp from the glass, felt the sting in his throat. He put the drink down on the table and the dark liquid lapped over the rim. He sat down in the chair. ‘I did it to save our marriage.’
‘You’re a fucking coward, James Keaveney.’
‘This is a chance for us to start again, now he’s not around anymore filling your head with shite.’
She withdrew a cigarette from the pack and lit it. ‘Tell me—’ She took a drag and exhaled a train of smoke. ‘Was it so embarrassing for you, so scandalous, for me to be friends with the parish priest?’
‘Oh yeah – because that’s what people were saying, all right – that you were great friends.’
She placed her chin in the heel of her hand, closed her eyes, and smiled. ‘God, Shaun Crowley really did a job on you, didn’t he?’
‘Did she put you up to this?’
‘Who?’
‘Housewife of the year – Colette.’
‘Oh yeah – because I’d really need to be convinced to leave this marriage.’
‘Maybe we should follow their lead – they seem to be making a great go of things. I’d say their children are really happy.’
‘We would not be the first couple to get separated, James, it happens all the time.’
‘Oh really – and how many couples do you know that are separated?’
‘Margaret and Brendan have been separated for years and they manage to make it work.’
‘Brendan Brennan is a rich man, he can afford to keep two homes.’
‘We’re not poor.’
‘My God,’ he said. ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that.’
‘Look, we can sit here all night and try and blame Brian Dempsey, or Shaun and Colette Crowley, but the truth is that any problems we had, we had before they came on the scene. Things have been bad for a long time. Maybe now we can move on and draw a line under it and life can be better for all of us. What do you think it’s like for the kids having a mother and father who don’t talk to each other for six months of the year?’
‘You see, that’s the difference between you and me – no matter how bad things got, I would never want a life without you and the kids.’
‘Oh, don’t start feigning interest in the children now, James. It doesn’t suit you. And I don’t doubt that if I had your life, I’d be satisfied with it. You have every single one of your needs met. Your children are reared for you, your home is looked after, you don’t have to cook or clean or iron a shirt for yourself. You spend half your time on the road to Dublin and when you’re here you may as well not be. In the past twenty years I have not been able to rely on you for even that much support.’ She pinched her fingers together and held them up in front of him. ‘Your job’s always been more important to you than me and the kids. I gave up trying to compete with that a long time ago. But any little bit of independence I’ve ever tried to have you’ve taken away from me.’
‘The shop?’
‘Which one – the one you sold on me fifteen years ago or the one you denied me last year?’
‘My job has kept a roof over our heads and two cars running and school fees paid and all you’ve ever done is complain there’s never enough. You’ve made a good enough job of spending it.’
She stubbed her cigarette out, placed her palms against the table, and pushed herself up out of the seat.
‘Sit down,’ he shouted. ‘We’re going to talk about this, now.’
She was staring down at the drops of whiskey pooled on the surface of the table.
‘Look, we always sort things out in the end,’ he said. ‘You’ve been saying for years that you want to leave and you’re still here.’
Her hands were still pressed against the table, her whole body bowed. ‘I know, I know,’ she said. Her arms began to shake. ‘Don’t remind me. I’ve wasted my whole life.’
‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Don’t you know that I love you?’
‘That’s an easy thing to say.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ he said. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because if I have to stay in this marriage for one second longer, I swear to Christ, James, I’ll—’
‘Well, maybe you need to see a doctor.’
She strode towards the door.
He called after her, ‘If it’s so easy to say, then let me hear you say it.’
