Turbulent Priests Part 2

*Ah, yes! The little fighter!'

I nodded.

*Can you see him?'

I nodded vaguely in the direction of the pouting baby.

The nurse tapped lightly on the window. *Such lovely red hair,' she said, pointing elsewhere, *like he has a little rusty head.'

I nodded some more.

*Isn't he lovely?' she beamed.

*Delightful,' I said, and turned back to the wards. As I reached the doors again they swung open.

*Ach, hiya, Dan, how's it goin'?'

Patricia's father smiled up at me. He'd shrunk since I'd last met him. Within a year. Shrunk with age. Shrunk with living in a retirement community on the windy north-west coast. Shrunk with having his wife die on him. Shrunk with waiting for death.

*Hiya, John,' I said, *you're looking well.'

*Did I see you looking through at us a minute ago?'

*Aye.'

He nodded. *You went up to look at the kid.'

*Aye.'

*Lovely kid.'

*Yeah.'

He put his hand out to me and we shook. *I know how it is, son,' he said.

*Thanks. I thought maybe you were, y'know, him.'

He squeezed my hand a little tighter, then let go. *Aye, I know.'

*How is she?'

*Tired. Irritable. Same as ever.' He patted my arm. *I'm sorry to rush on, but I've a train to catch.'

*I could give you a lift if . . .'

*Nah, never worry . . . away and see your wife.'

I smiled, we shook again, then he moved stoop-shouldered and stiff towards the stairs. I watched him negotiate the top flight, then pushed my way into the ward.

Patricia saw me immediately. She gave me a half-smile half-grimace which said it all.

I smiled at the woman in the next bed, and her visitor, then stopped at the foot of Patricia's bed and raised a hand in salute. *Hail Caesarean,' I said.

The half-smile didn't develop much. *h.e.l.lo, Dan.' Her voice was weak, her face wan.

*I come bearing gifts.'

I moved along the side of the bed, bent and kissed her lightly on the lips, then handed her the paper bag.

She crinkled her eyes in mock delight. *Thanks,' she said. She gave the bag an exploratory shake then set it down on the bed. *Sit,' she said.

I pulled up a black plastic chair. *Open it.'

*I'll look later, I'm just . . .'

*Go on, have a look . . .'

*Dan, I . . .'

*Just take a look . . .'

She tutted. She opened the bag and peered inside. She lifted out an egg, examined it for a moment, then replaced it and removed a handful of monkey nuts.

*Hard-boiled eggs and nuts, huh,' I said.

*What?'

*Hard-boiled eggs and nuts, huh.'

*Dan . . .'

*Hard-boiled eggs and nuts, huh.'

*Dan!'

*You don't remember?'

*I don't remember what?'

I puffed out my stomach, shook my head petulantly. *Hardboiled eggs and nuts, huh!'

*Dan!'

*Laurel and Hardy! Hard-boiled eggs and nuts, huh! Stan goes to see Ollie in hospital, he has his leg up in plaster, he brings him hard . . .'

She dropped the bag on the bed. *Jesus, Dan, why do you always have to be different? You couldn't just bring me a bunch of flowers or grapes, could you? It always has to be something funny. Something witty.'

*You used to appreciate it.'

*I used to appreciate a lot of things.'

We glared at each other for a charged half-minute.

*I thought we were doing okay,' I said.

*Yeah.'

*I thought we were going through our second honeymoon period.'

*Aye, honeymoon cyst.i.tis.'

I slumped down in the chair and stared moodily ahead. Sometimes I genuinely don't love Patricia at all. It doesn't last very long, but it does happen. I looked across at the couple beside us. I could see now that she was cradling a baby in the folds of her voluminous nightie. The man caught my eye and smiled. I nodded.

*He hasn't been then?' I said.

*Who?'

I shrugged. *I saw your dad.'

She nodded. *He brought some clothes. Of indeterminate colour. He wasn't sure whether it was a boy or . . .'

*It doesn't much matter, does it?'

*I suppose not.'

*Insofar as nothing much goes with red hair.'

*Dan . . .'

*You might have warned me.'

*How was I supposed to know?' she snapped, then grimaced. *It doesn't show up on a b.l.o.o.d.y scan. Tony hasn't got red hair.'

*It's in his DNA then. From flared jeans to flawed genes.'

*Does it really matter?' she hissed. Her face had acquired a little more colour. *Jesus, Dan, I've just come through the most horrendous twelve hours of my life, pain you couldn't begin to comprehend, then you turn up here, stinking of beer, you give me a bag of eggs and nuts and start moaning about the colour of his hair, and all the time I'm still in f.u.c.king pain and that f.u.c.king wee tyke is still in there fighting for his life! Jesus Christ, Dan!'

I counted to ten.

It didn't work.

*Better dead than red,' I said.

She screamed and threw the hard-boiled eggs and nuts at me.

3.

She had no idea what I was going through.

In the hospital cafe I got myself a Diet c.o.ke and a Twix. I sat at a table and stared at a bare wall. There was spilt tea and sugar on the table and I'd an elbow in it before I realised.

She really didn't have any idea of what I was going through, although it should have been b.l.o.o.d.y obvious. But she was right as well. I'd no idea what she'd gone through either. I'd only had to watch and worry.

The other visitor from Patricia's ward set a cup of coffee down on the table and slipped in opposite me. *You've still got some eggsh.e.l.l in your hair,' he said.

I brushed my head. A couple of brown fragments fell onto the table. *Thanks,' I said.

He was a big fella. He'd a dark stubble. A knitted blue jumper over a white b.u.t.toned shirt. He hunched up his shoulders and leant forward, resting both elbows in the tea and sugar. He lifted them sharply. *f.u.c.k,' he said, wiping at them.

*I did that too,' I said.

*You think they'd . . .'

*Aye, you would.'

Bending his elbows had pushed up his shirt, revealing half of an IRA tattoo on his lower arm. I was going to suggest laser surgery or an IQ test, but decided against it. We nodded at each other for a few moments, then I rolled my eyes upwards and said: *Sorry about all that.'

*Never mind, son. Sure I've seen it all before.'

*Not with hard-boiled eggs and nuts.'

*You'd be surprised. It's our seventh. Sure women are like that sometimes. Funny things happen when they have babies. It has something to do with the chemicals in their heads. You just have to remember to try and hold on to your temper. It just makes things worse. Give her time to cool off, then take her up a cup of tea and a bar of chocolate. A wee row. It's not the worst thing in the world.'

It wasn't the worst thing in the world. But it was part of it. The worst thing in the world hadn't even bothered to come and visit his son.

Once, long ago, I had an affair. It didn't work out. Patricia had one in revenge. It didn't work out for her either. We got back together, more in love than ever. But she was pregnant with his child. And he wanted to provide for it. I wasn't earning much money. He was. Patricia said he had certain rights as the father of the child. I said, has he f.u.c.k. But he remained a shadowy presence in our lives. I thought she was still in love with him.

*h.e.l.lo again,' I said.

*h.e.l.lo.'

*Is it safe?'

*Of course.'

*I'm sorry.'

*I'm sorry too.'

*I shouldn't have been so insensitive.'