AN: So, it's coming slower. Sorry. I'm usually much further ahead on a story than I put up. but not this time. Also, there may be more typos.
I hope you're still enjoying it, and thanks again for the reviews. x
Luckily, the film had been absolutely shit. Brendan had had a brilliant time taking the Mickey out of the actors and the scripts alongside his sons, and, in the process, really annoying an elderly couple a few seats away. They were still doing impressions and laughing when they arrived back at the flat in high spirits.
Unfortunately, the first thing to greet them at the flat was Cheryl in tears.
Brendan was at her side in a moment, wrapping his arms around her. The boys looked awkward and unsure of how to react. They had only ever seen fun, slightly crazy Auntie Chez. This was unknown ground.
"Hey, he, what's all this?" Brendan cooed, gently, "What on Earth's the matter?"
Between sobs, Cheryl let out three incomprehensible sounds.
"Deccy, put the kettle on, yeah?"Brendan hissed, mostly to make it one less person staring at Cheryl, "I didn't get that, sis," he said, kindly, as his son hurried to the kitchen.
Cheryl made the same three sounds, but this time managed to get some more consonants out.
"Dad's … left… Ma!"
Brendan did not know how to react to that.
"Oh," he said, still holding his little sister in a close hug. He tried to think of something comforting to say, failed, and instead said "When?"
"Last night," Cheryl sobbed. "Ma rang this morning. She's in bits!"
"I'm sorry, Chez," he said in the need of something to say, as Paddy stood by silently, staring, and Declan made tea.
"So you should be!" Cheryl snapped angrily.
Brendan glanced at the boys who were now both watching, nervously.
"Cheryl…" he started.
"He left a note!" She screeched, "All about you and Ste and how he felt like a stranger in his own family and pushed out! Now he won't take any of my calls, or Ma's! He was broken hearted you won't let him see his own Grandchildren! You've destroyed his life!"
Cheryl descended back into sobs, and Brendan shuffled awkwardly. Declan and Paddy were still stood awkwardly watching the exchange.
"Declan," Brendan said, "why don't you take your brother and show him your room? Help him get settled in, yeah?"
"Yeah," said Declan, "come on Paddy."
As the boys trailed up the stairs, Brendan noticed Padraig glance repeated at them. He didn't blame the kid – they probably looked a bit crazy.
"Calm down, Cheryl," he said, the moment his sons were out of sight. "You can't upset the kids like this."
Shocked, Cheryl looked at him as though he had said the most selfish thing in the world.
"My father has disappeared and you want me to be calm?" she exclaimed.
"Chez," Brendan groaned, "he's not disappeared. You watch, he'll turn up like the bad penny he is!"
"Don't talk about him like that! He's my Dad!"
"You never really knew him Cheryl! He is a sadistic, lying rapist with a taste for boys who are too young for him and who have turned him down! If he's left your Ma, I mean really left her, then she should be relieved, and you should be too."
Cheryl looked like she'd been smacked. "He looked after us!"
"He looked after you, Cheryl." Brendan countered, quietly.
Cheryl's tears increased, but Brendan just held on. He'd never been much good at comforting.
The sound of his aunt's sobs followed Paddy to his bedroom, where they found a blow up on the floor next to a proper bed, which, of course, Declan jumped on before Paddy had a chance. Padraig scowled at his brother, before stroppily throwing his stuff down at the foot of his own bed.
He could still hear Cheryl sobbing. He imagined his Grandmother doing the same thing, alone in that house back in Belfast, then his Grandfather, lonely and pushed out of the family by lies.
Padraig knew who was to blame for this misery, for Cheryl's tears, for his own anger. In all truthfulness, who was to blame for his father abandoning their family. Granddad had explained that Dad hadn't really been thinking properly when he made that decision. Dad hadn't really been thinking properly for a while Granddad had said, like that fighting at the restaurant, and locking them in a hotel, scaring them half to death.
There was one thing all of these things had in common. One person who was the root of them all. Ste. The queer. The freak who was making Dad like him, who made Dad turn his back on his family and then told evil lies about Granddad when the older man caught him out.
"You alright there Paddy?" asked Declan, interrupting his thoughts.
"Like anyone cares," Paddy replied.
He saw Declan shrug as he got into his pyjamas. "Just asking" he mumbled.
Paddy scowled a little more.
"Why did you leave that restaurant this afternoon?"
Paddy's stomach dropped. He thought he'd done really well at not being seen doing that. He needed to be more careful.
"Did not!" he said, aggressively.
Declan looked at him frowning. "You sure?"
"Yes!" Paddy grumbled, not trusting himself to say more.
Declan hummed thoughtfully, then said "I need to use the bathroom. No using my bed, midget!" and stepped on Paddy to leave the room, while Paddy threw a pillow at him.
When he was certain Declan was out of earshot, he slipped his hand into his pocket. He picked out a slip of paper and checked it over.
"Alright boys?" his Dad called through the door making him jump. His hand flew behind his back, and his heart pounded, but his Dad didn't come in.
"Yeah," he called lamely back, in unison with his brother from the bathroom, and heard his father's steps retreating, taking the opportunity to shove the piece of paper into the pocket of his bag before getting into some pyjamas of his own.
Granddad was the only person he could trust now. He was the only one who knew that Ste was the problem. He was the only one that knew how to get him out of their lives for good.
And Padraig was the only one who could help him.
