Cross Read Free Page B

ordering booze and not drinking?
    I know just how mad it was. But it kept me sober, if far from sane.
    I thought of Cody, lying in the coma, and of Kate Clare too, the woman who killed the priest and was now my prime suspect for shooting Cody. I knew I should be devoting more energy to finding her or whoever did the shooting but I couldn't get past Cody and his condition. He'd been the surrogate son I'd never dreamed I'd have, then just when we bonded, when I'd actually begun to think of him as family, he'd been snatched from me.
    A vengeful God?
    He certainly had it in for me. Every time I
seemed to get up off me knees, He wiped the fucking floor with me. Did I believe in Him?
You betcha, and it was real personal. I'd mutter in the mornings, Do Your worst and let's see how I take it. A hollow taunt in the face of chaos, bravado in place of faith. I shook
my head to clear it of God and His spite, stood, figured it was time to head.
    Leaving, I said to the bar guy, my untouched drinks sitting like forlorn friends, 'Hope the concert goes well.'
    He paused, mid-glass-cleaning, gaped at me, said, 'I'm praying for rain.'
    In Ireland you don't have to pray too fervently for that.

4
    'A crucified without a cross.'
    Description of the saint Padre Pio by
the faithful.
    When I was first visiting Cody in the hospital, I
was waylaid one afternoon by a man. He had that pious look beloved of priests and dogooders.
    He said, 'Are we feeling better?'
    I was not a very good hospital visitor, not one of those cheery stoic folk who enrich your day when you encounter them. I was bad tempered, hurt and dying for a drink. I stared at him. 'I don't know about you, pal, and truth to tell I don't care, but I'm feeling like shite.'
    He nodded, could deal with aggression, in fact looked like he expected it. He was not going to be disappointed. He leaned closer, said, 'Anger is good. Get that bad vibe out there. Don't hold it in.'
    We were in the corridor outside Cody's room and, as always, I was bracing myself to enter, so the diversion wasn't unwelcome. I
started to walk away, glad of the reprieve, and he followed as I knew he would.
    We reached what is called the long ward , open planning if you will. Row on row of beds, no privacy. I'd occupied more than my share of them.
    'Where did you learn that crap? I mean, at home, when you're sitting in front of the telly, do you seriously talk like that? Jeez, I mean, come on.'
    More smiles. I was obviously the dream he nurtured.
    I asked, 'And who the hell are you, apart from a monumental pain in the ass?'
    He did a thing with his eyes that was meant to convey compassion and – what's the buzz word? – yeah, empathy. Made him look shifty. Would you buy a used car from this guy?
    Nope.
    He was cooking now, said, 'See me as a non-judgemental friend.'
    Like that was going to happen.
    I said, 'You want to be my friend, you could do me a favour. How would that be, as a sign of our closeness?'
    Slight cloud over his cheerful face, he asked, 'Erm, OK, what would that be?'
    'Hop over the road to the Riverside Inn, grab me a bottle of Jameson.'
    He sighed, leaned back, as if this was the very thing he knew he'd hear, let out a long breath. 'Ah, herein is the crux of the matter.'
    Crux.
    Is there a class in these guys' training, say day three, when they're given a booklet containing all the words they can use that no one else does, which they can just lob into the conversation, kill it stone dead.
    I'd stopped at the end of the long ward. The very last bed was empty and that meant only one thing: the patient had died. They keep that bed for the ones who aren't going to make it so they can whisk them out of there in jig time, without disturbing the other patients.
I stared at that empty bed, a myriad of dread in my gut.
    When I didn't respond, he added, 'Alcohol seems to have been a major part in your . . .'
    He selected the next word like a spinster eyeing a box of her favourite chocolates:
didn't go with