The Rachel Incident(71)

If there had been nothing amiss with my university career, if I really was just a student who hadn’t done the necessary admin to attend graduation and who had found a way to go anyway, I’m sure the whole room would have felt it. Everyone would have instinctively understood or assumed I was someone who had been sick, or in absentia, or had some other equally plausible and fine reason to be treated differently.

But there’s a gut inside the body, and it metabolises the atmosphere quickly. Everyone knew that something was wrong, and that the graduation ceremony felt like a forced wedding between a child and a corpse. Like a horrible rite that they all had to sit through to ensure another safe harvest.

I took the scroll, and felt the eyes of every member of the department. How many of them knew about Rachel Murray and the terrible dinner party?

Afterwards, my father broke his silence. “Were you very close with your professors, Rachel?”

“No. Why?”

“Only, after you took your scroll, they couldn’t seem to stop looking at you.”





25


WE ARRIVED AT ISAACS, confused and awkward with one another, and I got a phone call from James. He was supposed to meet us there.

“Listen: I won’t be able to make it. Ben can’t spare me.”

“What?!”

“I’ve sent a replacement.”

“A replacement? Who? James, what are you playing at?”

“Just wait.”

A minute later, James Carey arrived in a navy sports jacket and smiling like a talk-show host. “Hello, my darling,” he said, his hands on my hips. “Christ, don’t you look stunning? Congratulations.”

My parents, desperate for something new to think about, became immediately excited.

“Rachel, who is this?”

I hadn’t seen him since August, and in that time I had both carried and miscarried his baby. I was speechless, hard-blinking and jumpy.

“Hello,” he said, sticking his hand out to my father. “My name is James.”

“Another James?” Mum exclaimed.

“Well, Rachel calls me Carey, but she’s the only one. I wouldn’t dare try to replace the other James. No competition there, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, don’t we know it,” Mum said, already charmed. “It’s James this, James that since last Christmas. We’ve heard of nothing else.”

All of a sudden, my parents and Carey were taking the piss out of me. My love affair with James Devlin, which had apparently tickled them, was being aired out for everyone to enjoy.

“He’s great, though,” Carey said. “He told me where you were today. I phoned him when Rachel said she didn’t want to make a fuss over graduation. So I came down from Derry.”

“From Derry?” Dad said. “Today?”

“Train to Dublin last night, train to Cork this morning.”

“Aren’t you great?” My mother was genuinely impressed. She had never liked Jonathan.

“Well, she worked so hard, didn’t she? Have you read her essays?”

I am told that it was a lovely lunch. I can’t remember if I said a word, or ate anything, or even smiled. All I knew was that I was glad he was there, but not enough to make me happy generally. Happiness felt very far away, and like something only the innocent were entitled to.

Carey turned the whole day around for my parents. He seemed to understand that they needed fun, and lightness, and crab cakes. He spoke reverently about his sick mother, but he didn’t dwell on it. He had funny anecdotes about his father and the rest of his family. He said he didn’t mind being back in Derry at all, and that it was very like Cork, really.

The lunch went on a long time, until the restaurant had to close for the dinner service. My parents kissed me goodbye outside, and my father handed me an envelope. “It’s only a fifty,” he said. “It’s not much, but take yourselves out for a few more jars.”

Carey and I walked down the street and discussed pubs. I leaned into him, my head on his shoulder. The further we were from my parents the more I slouched into him, less for love, and more to stay upright.

“Ey ey ey, what’s going on? Are you legless already?”

I gripped him hard, like I was chaining myself to railings. His tone shifted.

“Are you all right, Rache?” he asked. “Oh God, I was right to come, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

“What’s wrong, then? Why have you gone all strange?”

“So much has happened, Carey. So much you don’t even know about.”

“Well, come on now, I can’t find out if you won’t tell me. How bad can it be?”

I took him to the pub, and I told him how bad it could be. How I realised I was pregnant after he had left for Derry. How I had not wanted to burden him with my problems, when he was dealing with so many of his own. How I had planned to get a termination, but in the end, didn’t need to. I did not mention the Harrington-Byrnes. It was too complicated, and seemed irrelevant anyway.

It wasn’t, of course. It was deeply relevant. I just wanted to save face where I could.

“I don’t understand,” he said finally. “Why didn’t you say any of this to me? The baby, Rachel. How could you not say?”