AU - Sorry about the wait. Trying to get it right. Easier said than done.
Morning. It was the sunlight dribbling through the curtains that told Padraig that it was time to get up. He hadn't really slept at all during the night, worrying about what he had to do when the sun came up. What he had to do now.
'He's dangerous,' Granddad had said, 'all the more dangerous because he gets inside your head and makes you think he's some nice bloke.'
But Mam had said the same about Granddad. It was the only reason Paddy had ever been given for the sudden loss of contact.
Maybe Ste deserved it. What he did was wrong, after all. Everyone knew a family should be a Mam, a Dad and the kids, not a Mam and two Dads in different houses on different sides of the sea.
He knew which room was Cheryl's, so he went straight for it, still in pyjamas, still barefoot. He'd rehearsed what he was to say with Granddad, who'd been specific on what to say to who and how. 'Start with Cheryl,' Granddad had told him, 'She'll react properly.'
Padraig had an inkling of what properly meant to Granddad. He'd heard some fathers talking at a rugby game once, and he wasn't sure Ste deserved what they described. But Granddad knew best, didn't he? He only wanted what was best for the family.
He knocked on Cheryl's door. The only response he received was a muffled groan. He knocked again and, when the response was the same, cautiously opened the door and walked in.
Cheryl looked a state. Her hair, usually vivacious ringlets, was a mixture of limp greasiness and frizzy mess. Her skin, too, was greasy, and dotted with makeup stains, and on the front of her tracksuit, the same she'd been wearing all the previous day, were stains from ice-cream and various other food stuffs.
"Auntie Cheryl?" he called, lightly tapping her hand. 'Sound younger than ye are, call her Auntie,' Granddad had told him. "Auntie Cheryl?" he repeated.
Cheryl grumbled but seemed to emerge a little from her sleep. "Pradraig?" she croaked.
"Yes, it's me," he answered, shakily.
"What are you doing in here, love?" She slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position.
"Can I tell ye something?" he asked, trying to look shy as Granddad had instructed.
"Can it wait a bit love? I haven't even had a coffee yet." Cheryl laughed sadly, as she indicated her early morning self.
"Er…" Granddad hadn't given instructions for this. Would insisting on now spoil the shy act? Would not insisting expose the lie? Thankfully, Cheryl made the decision.
"Oh, I'm sorry love, of course it must be important to brave me at this time in the morning, looking like a wicked witch from a fairytale," she said, smiling kindly, "go on love."
"Well…" and Paddy hesitated. This was his last chance to back out, to just let things happen as Dad wanted. He thought of his father's happy grin as they ate together, the sneaky hand on Ste's leg they thought he hadn't noticed. Then he thought about Granddad, and how angry he would be if Paddy failed. "It's Ste…" he started.
"What about him, love?" asked Cheryl, and Paddy spotted the slight pursing of her lips. Granddad was right; she was still angry with Ste for the lies.
"Well… yesterday, he…"
He hesitated. Granddad had told him to hesitate. 'Look like you don't want to tell, but have to,' he'd said. "Yesterday…" he started again.
"Go on love, you can tell me anything," Cheryl encouraged, a hopeful glint in her eye.
"Ste… sort of… touched me."
Cheryl seemed to stop breathing. "Touched ya?" she repeated.
"Yeah…" he mumbled.
"where?" she asked.
"In the toilets, at the restaurant. Dad and Declan were at the table, and it was just the two of us, and…"
He stopped. He didn't know what else to say, and Granddad had told him unfinished sentences were good.
Cheryl looked shocked for a few moments, then pulled him into a hug. "Oh, you poor wee darling!" she cried, "how awful! You know, I always knew there was something wrong with that Ste, always making out he's a victim. You know, he was the same about your Dad before he started on your Granddad, but it never stopped him sleeping with him did it? But your Dad never denied it, so… but he's shown his true colours now, hasn't he?" And Cheryl burst out of bed with renewed energy.
"Come on," she cried, "we've got to tell your Dad. He'll beat the little bastard to a bloody pulp."
Brendan stole a kiss from Steven in the doorway as he and Declan left. Steven pretended to be cross, but Brendan could see the tell tale signs of happiness – the grin he was trying to push down and hide, the sparkle in the eyes, and he felt kind of proud of himself, and satisfied by Declan's barely noticeable smile.
"How was the sofa?" he asked, as they swaggered across the village.
"Like sleeping on a small rock," Declan replied, smiling, and Brendan laughed.
"You could have gone back with Cheryl and Paddy."
"Nah," said Declan," I wanted you to know that I approve, you know, of you and Ste."
Brendan smirked. "When did you become such a decent bloke, ey? You didn't get it from your Dad, that's for sure."
Dec smiled at him, "I don't know; he's not so bad."
A pleasant silence bloomed between them, as they enjoyed the sunshine and each other's company on their way home, but eventually Brendan needed to ask the question that had been plaguing him.
"How's your brother er... coping with everthing?"
"Oh, he's just being a little prick. He'll get over it."
The casualness of Declan's response took him by surprise. "Hey, don't talk about your brother like that," he warned.
Declan had the grace to look chastised. "Sorry, he's just getting on my nerves, calling Ste a queer and stuff. Like, he doesn't even know him, does he?"
Brendan's heart broke a little. Was there any hope if Padraig could talk like that?
Declan must have read his expression.
"Chill out Dad, he'll grow out of it."
"You think?" Brendan asked, hope fluttering a little.
"'Couse. And there's no way he can still properly hate Ste after yesterday, we had a great time."
Brendan felt the pressure in his heart ease a little as they continued on their way home.
Which was a state.
There were empty food packets everywhere, and some stains where liquids had dribbled onto floors and surfaces. Brendan instantly regretted letting Paddy come back with Cheryl, he'd had no idea she'd got this bad.
"Padraig?" he shouted, "Cheryl?"
"Ha! There he is!" screeched a triumphant voice from upstairs.
"Cheryl!" He shouted again, "get down here! I leave you looking after my son for one night! Look at this place!"
Cheryl cantered down the stairs. "Never mind that, Brendan…"
"Never mind that? Cheryl, this place is a health hazard! Sort yourself out!"
"Brendan, it's about Ste…"
"Yeah, I know you're upset but…"
"And Padraig," she interrupted.
"I know, I know, he doesn't like Steven. They'll get there, Chez. He's just freaked out by the…"
"No, Brendan. Ste molested Padraig yesterday."
Brendan could not have understood that right!
"What?"
"In the bathroom at the restaurant apparently. Paddy told me everything this morning. He's shockingly upset."
"No…" Brendan managed through his shock.
"You know, I always knew there was something funny about that lad, I mean, two kids before he's twenty, one of them not even his, living with the woman he used to beat up, then all that rubbish with Dad. I knew I couldn't believe a word he said…"
But Brendan was already out the door, a sickness and anger like he'd never felt coursing through his veins, and powering his run. He heard voices calling him back, but he didn't even hesitate. His feet pounded the ground so hard it started hurting, but it barely touched the red mist that coated him and suffocated him, and only grew the closer he got to the flat.
