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By Root 718 0

up like some kind of prisoner. Jack hated Cynthia at times, really loathed her. She was a piece of work. He knew about her and Jonny, but what could he do? If it ever came out it would be like one of those IRA bombs exploding in the heart of his family. And Jonny was not a son-in-law he could give a tug to, pull to one side and put the hard word on. Jonny was the local fucking Face – and how Jack would like to shove his fist into Jonny’s face at times. He knew Jonny loved Celeste, loved her deeply, but he also knew that his Cynthia was in his blood. A woman could take a man like that and get under his skin. Jack had seen it before; when it hit a man he was helpless to fight it. Some women had the power to make a man go against all he believed in, go against his basic instincts, walk away from his family, his job, his life. And the worst thing of all was that these women were never worth it. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, as Jonny would one day find out. For now, as long as Celeste didn’t get hurt, Jack had to go along with it.

He wondered how much his old woman knew. Mary was a shrewd old bird, and she could also keep her own counsel; she wouldn’t air something so potentially dangerous unless she had to. She had to know but, like him, her first thoughts were for Celeste and her fragile state of mind.

All that mess years ago had left its mark on them, and the seed of hatred that he had always felt for his elder daughter had grown into something much deeper. He hated feeling useless, hated that he was in no position to do anything for his family. Jonny paid for all their lives now, he had them in the palm of his large and treacherous hands and, at bottom, that was what really bothered Jack. He was helpless to do anything and, for a man like Jack Callahan, that was a terrible position to be in. But one day Jonny would get his comeuppance, of that much he was sure.

Chapter Forty-Four

Mary Callahan was watching her grandson James Junior as he gazed at the television. She liked to think she had a special bond with him, but she worried that he wasn’t right somehow. He could barely count to fifty, and he struggled to read the comics he bought by the dozen. He seemed to be away with the fairies half the time, and spent hours staring at the TV screen. Lately she had begun to wonder if he actually took in what he was watching. All he seemed interested in at the moment was getting a kitten. They couldn’t have one here – she was too old for all that palaver – and there was no way Cynthia would have one in that surgically clean house of hers. But it was all James Junior went on about. His schoolwork was clearly suffering, though she had a feeling he just couldn’t do it and that it was too advanced for him. He needed a private tutor or something.

Mary had broached the subject with Cynthia who had shrugged and said he was ‘as thick as shit’ and ‘he’ll snap out of it.’ At nearly nine, James Junior was larger than other lads his age, but he hardly spoke a word unless spoken to first. Unless he really wanted something – then he would pester and annoy everyone till he got what he wanted. Look at all that about the kitten. James had flown into such a rage when he was told he couldn’t have one. They had been amazed at the intensity of it. And the language! Kicking and spitting out filth the like of which she’d never heard before. Jack had eventually given him a good clump, and that seemed to have sorted him out. But again, the ferocity of his anger was all wrong, too deep and too hateful for a child of his age.

He seemed to have no friends either and she believed it was because he didn’t seem to want any. That, to her mind, was unnatural in a child, and she knew that someone should address these problems but she didn’t know who that should be. It wasn’t as noticeable to everyone else, they just thought he was quiet. But Mary felt instinctively that there was something radically wrong with the boy, and that frightened her. If only she could talk to Cynthia, voice her concerns about his school-work, his indifference to other people.