Adam sighed and sat back in the chair, looking up at the chandelier as if it was that which had asked him the question. ‘I was five years old, Lavinia was ten. Mum had cancer. It was all very sad for everyone, though I didn’t really understand. I didn’t feel sad, I only knew that it was. I didn’t know she had cancer, or if I did I didn’t know what it was. I just knew she was sick. There was a room downstairs in the house where she stayed that we weren’t allowed to go into. It was for a few weeks or a few months, I can’t really remember. It felt like for ever. We had to be very quiet around the door. Men would go in and out with their doctor’s bags, ruffle my hair as they passed. Father would rarely go in. Then one day the door to that room was open. I went in; it had a bed in it that never used to be there before. The bed was empty but apart from that the room looked exactly the same as it used to. The doctor who used to tap me on the head told me my mother was gone. I asked him where; he said Heaven. So I knew she wasn’t coming back. That’s where my grandfather went one day and he never came back. I thought it must have been a fun place to go to never want to come back. We went to the funeral. Everybody was very sad. I stayed with my aunt for a few days. Then I was packed off to boarding school.’ He spoke of it all devoid of emotion, totally disconnected as his defence mechanism kicked in to block out the overwhelming pain. I guessed for him to connect, to feel the pain, felt too much to bear. He seemed isolated and disengaged and I believed every word he said.
‘Your father didn’t discuss what was happening to your mother?’
‘My father doesn’t do emotion. After they told him he had weeks to live he asked for a fax machine to be put in his hospital room.’
‘Was your sister communicative? Could you talk about it together, in order to understand?’
‘She was sent to a boarding school in Kildare and we saw each other for a few days each holiday. The first summer we were back at the house from boarding school she set up a stall in town and sold my mother’s shoes, bags, fur coats and jewellery and whatever else was of any value and made herself a fortune. Every single thing was sold and couldn’t be bought back by the time anyone realised what she’d done a few weeks later. She’d spent most of the money already. She was practically a stranger to me and even more so after that. She’s made of the same stuff my father is. She’s more intelligent than me, it’s just a pity she didn’t put her brains to better use. She should be taking Father’s place, not me.’
‘Did you make good friends at boarding school?’ I was hoping for some kind of circle where little Adam had love and friendship. I wanted a happy ending somewhere.
‘That’s where I met Sean.’
Which wasn’t the happy ending I was hoping for, as that trusted person had betrayed him. I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and placed my hand over his. The movement made him stiffen and so I quickly removed it.
He folded his arms. ‘So how about we drop all this mumbo jumbo talk and get straight to the problem?’
‘This isn’t mumbo jumbo. I think that your mother passing away when you were five years old is significant. It affects your past and current behaviour, your emotions, how you deal with things.’ That’s what the book said and I personally knew it to be true.
‘Unless your mother died when you were five years old, then I think it’s something you can’t learn from a book. I’m grand, let’s move on.’
‘She did.’
‘What?’
‘My mum died when I was four.’
He looked at me, surprised. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So how did it affect you?’ he asked gently.
‘I think I’m not the one who wants to kill myself on my thirty-fifth birthday, so let’s move on,’ I snapped, wanting to get back to talking about him. I could tell from his surprised expression that I had sounded a lot angrier than I had intended. I composed myself. ‘Sorry. What I meant was, if you don’t want to talk, what do you want from me, Adam? How do you expect me to help you?’
He leaned forward, lowered his voice, jabbed his finger on the table to emphasise each point. ‘It’s my thirty-fifth birthday on Saturday week. I don’t particularly want to have a party but for some reason that’s what’s being arranged for me by the family – and by family I do not mean my sister Lavinia, because the only way she can appear in Ireland without getting handcuffs slapped on her wrists is on Skype. I mean the company family. The party is in City Hall in Dublin, a big do, and I would rather not be there but I kind of have to be because the board have chosen that day to announce to everyone that I’m taking over the company while my father is alive, kind of like being given the seal of approval. That’s twelve days away. Because he’s so ill, they had a meeting last week to see if my birthday party could be moved forward. I told them it’s not happening. Firstly, I don’t want the job. I haven’t worked out how to fix it yet, but I’ll be announcing somebody else as the new head that night. And if I have to walk into that bloody room, I want Maria back, by my side, holding my hand the way it should be.’ His voice cracked and he took a moment to compose himself. ‘I thought about it and I understand. I changed. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. She was worried, she went to Sean and Sean took advantage of her. I went to Benidorm with him when we finished our Leaving Cert, and I’ve partied with him every weekend since I was thirteen – believe me, I know what he can be like with women. She doesn’t.’
I opened my mouth to protest, but Adam lifted a finger in warning and continued.
‘I’d also like to get my job at the Coast Guard back, and for everyone in my father’s company who’s worked there for the past one hundred years to get off my back because I was chosen to take Father’s place instead of them. If I had my way, I’d rather any of them got the bloody job. Right now it doesn’t look likely, but you’re going to help with that. We need to undo my grandfather’s wishes. Lavinia and I can’t take over the company, but it must not fall to my cousin Nigel. That would be the end of the company. I have to work something out. If none of those things are fixed, then I’ll drown myself in a bloody stream if I have to, because I’m not living with anything other than that right there.’ He jabbed the table with a butter knife to emphasise the final two words. He looked at me wide-eyed, wired, threatening, daring me to walk out, to give up on him.
It was tempting, to say the least. I stood up.
His expression turned to one of satisfaction; he’d managed to push another person away, leaving him free to get on with his plan to demolish himself.
‘Okay!’ I clapped my hands as if I was about to start a clear-up of the area. ‘We’ve a lot to do if we’re going to make this happen. Your apartment is out of bounds now, I assume, so you can stay with me. I need to go home and change, I need to get to the office to pick up some things and I need to get to a shop – I’ll explain what for later. First, I have to get my car. Are you coming?’
He looked at me in surprise, at my not leaving him in the way he thought I would, then he grabbed his coat and followed me.
Once we were in the taxi my phone beeped.
‘That’s the third one in a row. You never check your messages. Not very encouraging for me for when I’m hanging off a bridge somewhere looking for a pep talk.’
‘They’re not messages, they’re voicemails.’
‘How do you know?’
I knew because it was eight a.m. And there was only one thing that happened as soon as it hit eight a.m.
‘I just know.’
He studied me. ‘You said no secrets, remember?’
I thought about it and out of guilt for having read his ‘proposal’, which was currently in my pocket, handed him my phone.