She leans into me with a grin and looks for all the world like a little girl who is at last getting to reveal a secret she has kept sacred for far too long. I can’t speak and even if my throat and mouth allowed the words through, I don’t know what they’d say.
‘Do you know the truth is, I let you save me,’ she says, whispering it to me, grinning. ‘Isn’t that wonderful, Mr Hannigan? You saved me – a Dollard – as you like to call me,’ she laughs, lifts her head to the ceiling, then back down to her hands. ‘I couldn’t leave here after he died. Well, when I say couldn’t leave here I mean, him, of course – Jason. He was my world. He seeps out of every inch of these walls. He loved this rack-and-ruined place. Nothing and no one could dissuade him from the idea of it being a hotel, especially not me.’
She smiles sadly and looks about.
‘She would have sold it, you see – Emily, when she came home, when Jason was dying. I knew she was thinking that way and I couldn’t have everything he had worked for taken away from me. And then you came along on your white steed. Ironic, don’t you think? You might finally have been rid of us Dollards, instead you ensured we stayed.’
Her smile widens.
‘I could have laughed. You don’t think I’d forgotten, do you? You don’t think I’d forgotten how you’d treated Jason that night he stood at your door begging for money for us. He never lived it down. Never.’
Her head, serious now, shakes from side to side, her compassion for me gone.
‘You brought a good man low, Mr Hannigan. A good, decent man. My man. It was you who condemned her here, do you know that? My poor daughter. Condemned to this life of servitude, to me, to them,’ she says, her outstretched hand indicating those passing, on the way to smoke their cigarettes. She swallows hard and adds: ‘And I let you.’
She begins to shake and snivel. Christ, I can’t be doing with more tears now. She quivers away beside me while I shift in my seat, looking around to see who’s watching. But everyone seems too caught up in the clatter of the night.
‘I’m done with the Dollard beatings a long time ago, Hilary. I’m not taking any more now.’
‘But no, you misunderstand me. It is me who is to blame. What kind of parent lets her daughter sacrifice her life like that?’ she asks, crying now, like I might have the answer. Me, the parenting expert!
My hand begins to rummage in my full pocket. And with difficulty I free my handkerchief that surrounds my little bag of pills, pull it out and place it in her hand.
‘Here,’ I say quietly, looking away from her, giving her as much privacy as I can.
Hilary blows her nose then considers me for a minute.
‘I need you to do something for me, Mr Hannigan,’ she finally says, her urgency worrying me, ‘buy this place. Buy it. Force Emily to sell to you or to anyone, I don’t care. Be the ruthless man you are and force her out. This place has done us enough damage.’ She moves closer to me, right in towards my face, searching me out, her hand back on mine. I look closely at her wrinkles that fan out from her pleading mouth, merging with those tumbling down from her eyes. She is so close that I can feel her breath and hear its pace quicken. ‘Please, Mr Hannigan, set her free.’
I want to move away. I want to drink my whiskey that’s sitting all alone on the bar. I want my peace and quiet. What I don’t want is someone else’s problems to solve. My scar itches. I need to rub it but she’s still too close. I have no choice but to stand, as rude as it may seem. I let her hands drop back to her lap. I rub hard at my skin, smelling the earth of my fingers and watch the rest of the band, or at least they must be, given they’re all dressed in black suits with white dickie bows and cowboy hats, pass by me, all amps and equipment and elbows. I step back a little out of their way. And when they are through the double doors, I say:
‘You want me to be the bad guy, is that it?’
I look down at her expectant face.
‘If that’s how you wish to put it, then, yes, I want you to be the bad guy,’ she says, rising proudly and taking my hand, ‘please, Mr Hannigan, please. Just this one last time for us Dollards.’
I have no answer for her. It is all too much, trying to understand their convoluted history. All I can do is take her hand and hold it there for a moment in the foyer. I have nothing more to give to anyone. I look into those sad eyes of hers one last time, and leave.
I go back to the bar. It’s beginning to fill up again with those who don’t seem to be fans of the band.
‘You’re still here,’ Emily says, as she comes through from the kitchen. ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it down before now. It was mad up there. Still, all over now. Well, I mean the speeches and all that. The band is on, now. So far so good I have to say. But I tell you, my cheeks are actually sore from all that smiling for the photographs.’
She sits up on the stool beside me. She looks tired but still she manages to give me a tiny grin.
‘So go on, why are you still here?’
God but she is beautiful.
‘Here,’ I say to Svetlana, ‘there’s a bottle of champagne behind there with this lady’s name on it. Will you open it and give her a glass and put another Midleton in that?’
I shove my glass in her direction.
‘Champagne?’ Emily asks, watching me like I’ve gone mad.
‘Robert tells me it’s your favourite.’
Svetlana pops the cork and we watch her pour the bubbles. It looks magnificent, but I know it tastes like pure shite.
‘Are we celebrating something, Mr Hannigan?’
‘In a way. We are toasting my wife. Who two years ago today decided it was time to leave me.’ I smile at her and watch her bright eyes dip a little. ‘She was a great gardener, you know,’ I say trying to lighten the mood, ‘pinks and purples and yellows and oranges everywhere. Especially out the back in a little rockery. Irises, petunias, begonias, nasturtiums, the lot. Couldn’t tell one from the other, me. But I loved the smell in the yard when I’d arrive home. Hitting me in the nose as soon as I got out of the car. It was her, the smell was her, not honey, not jasmine. Essence of Sadie. Haven’t smelt that in two years. Weeds, that’s all there is now, choking the life out of what’s survived.’
Emily has the look of a woman who at any minute might reach over and hug me. I lift my glass to hers to ward off any of that.
‘To Sadie,’ I say.
‘To Sadie.’
Our glasses clink, high pitched and clear.
‘I was talking to your mother just now,’ I say quietly, when the moment’s silence begins to stretch uncomfortably. More and more people are arriving, escaping the band maybe, much to my annoyance. Oh, for the quiet hours just past.
‘My mother? My mother!’
‘Yes, your mother.’ I look around to see who might be within earshot.
‘You must have that one wrong. Mother never comes out of hiding. Especially not on a night like this. GAA’s not her thing.’
‘My mistake, so,’ I say, not having the energy to argue the point with her. I can imagine her slitted eyes turned on me as I stare ahead.
‘What did she want?’
‘Oh, you believe me now.’ My eyes dart in her general direction. ‘She didn’t say much. Other than telling me Thomas’ father wasn’t Hugh Dollard and that she knows all about me and this place.’
I take another sip of my drink, imagining her panic.
‘She knows? What do you mean, she knows?’
‘What I said. She told me she’s known all along.’
‘But that … but she’s never…’ She breaks off and stares at her bubbles for a bit.
‘Tell me something,’ I say, when I’ve given her long enough to digest it all, ‘would you have sold this place if I hadn’t offered to invest all those years back?’ My hand attempts a passing wave of the room but gives up mid-way. She raises her hand to her forehead, looking at me, totally confused. And I feel sorry for having asked the question.