I went to reception and moments later Patch burst in. He was a second Dennis – the same ill-kempt saunter, the same hail-fellow-well-met likeability, the same bang of low-level lawlessness.
Bright eyes met mine. ‘Rachel?’ His greying curls bounced. ‘I’m late and you’re hopping with me! Blame the bagel fella. Drove a hard bargain. But to make it up to you, didn’t I get you one!’
‘Got me what?’
‘A pup. A bitch. Fine size. On the back seat – will we take a look?’
What? ‘Ah, no …’ His chaotic energy was affecting me. ‘But will the pups be okay in the car?’
He grinned. ‘Be grand! There’s a window open! They’ll probably scutter all over the place but nothing worse than goes on in that car on a Saturday night!’
Christ.
‘It’s the Dooley Cab.’ He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘You know Dennis and meself run a taxi firm? Well, you’re looking at it!’
‘Do you need anything? Tea? Bathroom? To go over things again?’
‘Divil a bit. I’m grand.’
‘Remember, Dennis will probably try to make you feel guilty –’
‘Lookit, don’t worry. Let’s go.’
I ushered Patch in and watched Dennis closely. Gratifyingly, his mouth fell open and his face was stamped with shock. But the shock quickly shifted to wonder and he leapt up, hurling himself at his brother. ‘Did they ketch you as well?’ he bellowed, the very picture of happiness. ‘Are you an “alcoholic” too?’
‘What do you take me for!’ Laughing, Patch thrust his hand into Dennis’s. ‘They’ll never ketch me!’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Up here for thinking.’
Together they pointed at their feet, ‘Down there for dancing!’
Oh no. No, no, no.
Murdo was staring at me and I turned away, shamed by his shock.
‘Are you here to get me out?’ Dennis demanded of Patch. ‘In time for St Patrick’s Day on Saturday!’
‘The great escape!’ Patch agreed. ‘Thelma and Louise! We’ll cut the roof off the Merc!’
‘Dennis.’ I was desperately trying to restore calm. ‘Return to your seat. Patch, please sit here. Dennis! Dennis.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Dennis. Can you tell us who this visitor is?’
‘He’s my brother!’
‘We didn’t need to be told.’ Ella was charmed and starry-eyed.
‘Patch. Patch, hello.’ Reluctantly, everyone settled, then I carried on. ‘You know that your brother is here because he’s an alcoholic. Dennis says he’s not an alcoholic. So can you give us some examples when you’ve been worried about his drinking.’ We’d been through all of this on the phone on Monday. ‘His daughter Abigail says there’s been a lot of drunk-driving.’
‘Well …’ Patch looked thoughtful. ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it “drunk”。’
‘And I wouldn’t exactly call it “driving”！’ Dennis finished.
The room erupted with hilarity.
I’d got this so wrong.
I persevered a while longer but Patch was way too wily for me. All his visit had done was strengthen Dennis’s conviction that he shouldn’t be here. After twenty minutes, I ended things.
As I walked Patch out, he asked, ‘Was I any help?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Do you want that bitch?’
‘No.’
‘Well, g’luck, so.’
‘Bye.’ I didn’t tell him to drive safely.
I hoped he didn’t. I hoped he drove into the canal and lost his licence.
As tears of rage and shame gathered behind my eyes, I stomped back inside to ring Juliet Dooley. She needed to get herself and her daughters in here sharpish and this time I wouldn’t let myself be fobbed off.
Under normal circumstances, I was good at my job. Like, skilled at reading people, knowing when to go easy and knowing when to go in for the kill. But in the week since all the Luke stuff had kicked off, things had been – what was the phrase? – sub-optimal. My sleep had been more broken than usual and I was just … disrupted.
I mean, seriously – what kind of half-decent counsellor would have taken a chance on Patch Dooley? The moment he’d swanned up here with his carload of bagels, I should have shown him the door.
There was only one person responsible for this debacle and it was me. But I didn’t like that feeling, so instead I decided to blame Luke.