fidgeted with the navy-blue cap in his hands. ‘She was drink driving, Elizabeth, in a stolen car, and she doesn’t even have a licence.’
Hearing those words, Elizabeth shivered. Saoirse was a danger. Why did she keep protecting her sister? When would the words finally sink in and she’d accept that they were right: that her sister would never be the angel she wished her to be?
‘But the car wasn’t stolen,’ Elizabeth stammered, ‘I told her that she c—’
‘Don’t, Elizabeth.’ Colm’s voice was firm.
She had to hold her hand across her mouth to stop herself. She took a deep breath and tried to regain control. ‘She has to go to court?’ Her voice was a whisper.
Colm looked down at the ground and moved a stone with his foot. ‘Yes. It’s not just about her harming herself now. She’s a danger to others.’
Elizabeth swallowed hard and nodded. ‘One more chance, Colm,’ she gulped, feeling her pride disintegrating. ‘Just give her one more chance… please.’ The last word pained her to have to say. Every bone in her body pleaded with him. Elizabeth never asked for help. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her. I promise she won’t be out of my sight for a minute. She’s going to get better, you know. She just needs time to work things out.’ Elizabeth could feel her voice shaking. Her knees trembled as she begged on behalf of her sister.
There was a sad tone in Colm’s voice. ‘It’s already been done. We can’t change it now.’
‘What will the punishment be?’ She felt sick.
‘It depends on the judge on the day. It’s her first offence – well, her first known offence. He may go lightly on her, then again he may not.’ He shrugged then looked at his hands. ‘And it also depends on what the garda who arrested her says.’
‘Why?’
‘Because if she was co-operative and gave no trouble it could make a difference, but then again…’
‘It might not,’ Elizabeth said worriedly. ‘Well? Did she co-operate?’
Colm laughed lightly. ‘Took two people to hold her down.’
‘Damn it!’ Elizabeth swore. ‘Who arrested her?’ She nibbled on her nails.
There was a silence before Colm spoke. ‘I did.’
Her mouth dropped open. Colm had always had a soft spot for Saoirse. He was the one who was always on her side so the fact that he had arrested her rendered Elizabeth speechless. She chewed nervously on the inside of her mouth and the taste of blood slid down her throat. She didn’t want people to start giving up on Saoirse.
‘I’ll do the best I can for her,’ he said softly. ‘Just try and keep her out of trouble until the hearing in a few weeks.’
Elizabeth, who realised she hadn’t been breathing for the last few seconds, suddenly let her breath out. ‘Thank you.’ She couldn’t say any more. Although she felt huge relief, she knew it was no victory. No one could protect her sister this time; she would have to face the consequences of her actions. But how was she expected to keep her eye on Saoirse when she didn’t know where to begin looking for her? Saoirse couldn’t stay with her and Luke – she was far too out of control to be around him – and her father had long since told her to move out and stay out.
‘I’d better leave you at it so,’ Colm said gently, fixed his cap back on his head, and he made his way down the cobbled drive.
Elizabeth sat on the porch, trying to rest her knocking knees, and looked at her mud-stained car. Why did Saoirse have to taint everything? Why was everything… everyone Elizabeth loved chased away by her younger sister? She felt the clouds above push all that was between them and her onto her shoulders and she worried about what her father was going to do when they would undoubtedly bring Saoirse to his farm. She would give him five minutes before he rang Elizabeth complaining.
Inside the house, the phone started ringing and Elizabeth’s heart sank even deeper. She rose from the porch, turned slowly on her heel and headed inside. When she got to the door the ringing had stopped and she spotted Luke sitting on the stairs with the phone pressed to his ear. She leaned against the wooden doorframe, arms folded, and watched him. A small smile crept onto her face. He was growing up so fast and she felt such a disconnection from the whole process, as though he was doing everything without her help, without the nurturing she knew she should be providing but that she felt awkward summoning. She knew she lacked that emotion – sometimes lacked emotion full stop – and everyday she wished the maternal instincts had come with the paperwork she signed. When Luke fell and cut his knee, her immediate response was to clean it and plaster his cut. To her that felt like enough, not dancing him around the room to stop his tears and slapping the ground like she’d watched Edith do.
‘Hi, Granddad,’ Luke was saying politely.
He paused to listen to his granddad on the other end.
‘I’m just having lunch with Elizabeth and my new best friend, Ivan.’
Pause.
‘A cheese and tomato pizza but Ivan likes olives on his.’
Pause.
‘Olives, Granddad.’
Pause.
‘No, I don’t think you can grow them on the farm.’
Pause.
‘O-L-I-V-E-S.’ He spelled it out slowly.
Pause.
‘Hold on, Granddad, my friend Ivan is telling me something.’ Luke held the phone to his chest and looked into thin air, concentrating hard. Finally he lifted the phone back to his ear. ‘Ivan said that the olive is a small, oily fruit that contains a pit. It’s grown for its fruit and oil in subtropical zones.’ He looked away and appeared to be listening. ‘There are lots of types of olives.’ He stopped talking, looked into the distance and then back to the phone. ‘Underripe olives are always green but ripe olives are either green or black.’ He looked away and listened to the silence again. ‘Most tree- ripened olives are used for oil, the rest are brine- or salt-cured and are packed in olive oil or a brine or vinegar solution.’ He looked into the distance. ‘Ivan, what’s brine?’ There was silence then he nodded. ‘Oh.’
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and laughed nervously to herself. Since when had Luke become an expert on olives? He must have learned about them at school; he had a good memory for things like that. Luke paused and listened to the other end. ‘Well, Ivan can’t wait to meet you too.’
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and dashed towards Luke for the phone in case he said any more. Her father was confused enough as it was, at times, without having to explain the existence, or lack thereof, of an invisible boy.
‘Hello,’ Elizabeth said, grabbing the phone. Luke dragged his feet back to the kitchen. Irritation at the noise reared itself within Elizabeth again.
‘Elizabeth,’ said the stern formal voice, thick with a Kerry lilt, ‘I just returned to find your sister lying on my kitchen floor. I gave her a boot but I can’t figure out whether she’s dead or not.’
Elizabeth
