The Devil In Soho by J M Shorney

Author:J M Shorney
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781909271913
Published: 2014-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

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DOUBLE ENTENDRE

However difficult the situation, I successfully manage to coax Caitlan back into the car, with remonstrations of how much I love her and that it is all in the past. She is my life now. How I was just a kid in the wrong situation at the wrong time.

Patrick has been left alone for a while, but is content to finish his burger. He enquires if I want mine as if nothing untoward has occurred or Caitlan isn’t upset. I tell him that I’m no longer hungry and Caitlan manages to shake her head negatively.

“Can I have two then, please?” he asks, his voice small, hesitant.

“No, you can’t eat more than one of that stuff,” I chide and snatching the untouched food from his hand, toss it out of the window. He lapses silently after that to play on his game. It is as if he’s loaded a gun and fired it into a crowd, so nonchalantly innocent. As if he believes that because of my infrequent access hitherto, he can get away with almost anything with me. Now I have a woman I love. If she is hurting, then so am I. Relative to my circumstances, I’ve had precious little to do with my son’s upbringing over the years. Obviously, Jude has implanted things into his head no child should have to hear.

Swinging the Cabriolet into the road, I check on Caitlan. Her back is turned from me, another sodden tissue is pressed to her face. Every time I dare touch her, she shrugs me off. Despondently, I fear that the moment we return to my flat, she’ll pack her bags and return to Dublin. I know I should have told her. Guess I was too much of a coward. “You see why I didn’t say anything. I knew how you’d react.”

“How did you expect me to react, Aiden? I… I thought you were different.”

“I am, really, and I do love you. I didn’t lie about that.”

“So you say.”

“Jesus, Caitlan, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“What about the other women?”

“What other women?” I almost career the car across the road on hearing the accusation in her voice, the virtual condemnation. Guilt surfaces on recollection of what I was doing when Brid had phoned to inform me that Caitlan had arrived at my flat.

“Once you marry me, you’ll have other women because you get bored.”

“Is this you talking again, Patrick? Don’t you think you’ve said enough for one day? And there are no other women!” I’m growing angry and I flick a glance in my rear view mirror, alternatively scared that I’ve said too much and have upset him because of it. His head is lowered over his game. He refrains from glancing up and I can’t be certain. I say, “I never loved your mother, Patrick - ever,” spitefully. I realise how cruel it sounds but add regardlessly, “now, if no one has anything sensible to add, I can concentrate on getting us back to Shooter’s Hill in

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