Resolution

Chapter 21

Hesitant, spluttering rush-hour traffic left a gritty blue haze over the road. Maureen had sobered up during the day, leaving her with a dull ache to the back of her head and a terrible sense of hopelessness. She had meant to go for a drink on the way home but Leslie insisted on dropping her at the door. She was so grateful to Maureen for letting her move in and said a run up the road was the least she could do. Maureen felt she was being handled, the way the family used to handle Winnie, the way Una made sure they only ever ate in unlicensed cafes, the way drink brought by visitors was confiscated by the children at the front door, the way George made sure she wasn't left alone before they went out. After Leslie moved in tonight Maureen would be hiding in the bathroom, drinking from secret stashes like Winnie used to. She opened the passenger door. "Listen, I'm going out in a minute," she said. "I might not be in when ye get there, but you've got the spare keys, haven't ye?"

Leslie seemed disappointed. "You'll be back later, though, won't ye?"

"Oh, aye, yeah. I'll be back later."

"Where are ye going?"

"See Liam," she said, and climbed out.

The corner of a yellow Jiffy bag peeked out from the side of her door as she climbed the stairs. She stood and looked at it. It had been placed there by someone who knew she was out at work. If Jim Maliano was delivering for Angus he wouldn't have left another package so soon after she had accused him: he wasn't sharp enough for a double bluff. And when she thought about it without a drink in her she realized that Jim didn't know Angus. It had been the drink talking. She opened the front door and nudged the envelope into the hall with the tip of her toe, afraid to touch it, and shut the door behind her. In the bedroom she changed her T-shirt and walked past the yellow package to the bathroom, watching it as though it might bite her ankles. She splashed water on her face, dried it, and turned back to the hall.

Trying not to touch the Jiffy bag more than necessary, she pulled at the lip. It came open easily and she exhaled when she saw the strip of black plastic. It was a videocassette. She took it out, sat it on top of the envelope and looked at it, chewing her cheek hard and frowning. Maureen didn't have a video machine anymore. She wasn't going to watch it. She could guess what was on it anyway. She leaned forward, picked up the envelope by the edges and lifted it, video and all, onto the worktop in the kitchen. She picked up her purse, keys and fags and walked out, slamming the door shut behind her.

She knew that using the phone was an excuse, that there were pay phones outside the pub she could have used. She bought herself a second triple and balanced it on a scarred balsa-wood shelf. "I can't come tonight, Liam, something's come up. Can I come over tomorrow?"

Liam sounded furious. "I can't just sit about here all night waiting for you, Maureen. I haven't had my dinner because I was waiting for you."

"Liam," she laughed, lighter again because of the drink, "for fuck's sake, it's only half past seven."

"I was hungry," he snapped.

"Well, can't ye get yourself a bit of bread or something?"

"Why don't you come over later?"

"I can't. Leslie's moving into mine to shake off Cammy and she's coming over tonight." She heard Liam tutting. The pips went on the phone and the last six pence tumbled away on the digital display. "That's my money gone. I'll talk to ye tomorrow."

"Mauri, I need to-"

And the phone cut out.