He felt Erin shift her position next to him. Her body tensed. From out the corner of his eye he saw her swallow hard. Her first attempt to speak failed. Her second attempt brought with it a wobble to her voice.
‘Sometimes,’ she began. ‘Sometimes, the motives aren’t always clear, but I’m sure a mother always loves her child.’
Kerry let out a scoffing noise. ‘Jesus, Erin, you’ve got some fairytale image of mothers. That may well be true of your mother or your sister, but it’s certainly not true of mine.’
‘So tell me what happened. Trust me,’ she coaxed.
‘She made it perfectly clear what she thought of me. The last words she said left me in no doubt.’ He dug his hand in his jacket pocket, pulling out his baccy. Deftly he rolled a cigarette. Cupping his hands to shield the lighter from the breeze, he drew hard on his cigarette. He was aware Erin was waiting for him to continue. ‘There was no place for me in her life. She had her new family. I didn’t fit in.’
‘What exactly did she say?’
Kerry drew on his cigarette again, buying time. He had never told anyone what his mother had said. The words gouged his heart too much. Fuck it. Hadn’t he just preached to Erin about telling the truth and not having secrets? He dug his heel into the sand and drew a deep breath. ‘She said she wished I had never been born.’
There. He’d said it.
‘She said that?’ Erin sounded shocked. In some perverse way, Kerry was pleased with her reaction. It meant all these years of pain, feeling rejected and unloved were justified.
‘Yes. Those were her exact words.’
‘Weren’t they just said in the heat of the moment, though?’
‘I don’t think the heat of the moment lasts for nearly nine years, does it?’ Kerry stubbed his cigarette end out in the sand. ‘I don’t want to speak to her. I’ve cut her out of my life completely.’
‘But she sends you letters,’ said Erin. ‘Doesn’t that tell you something? She might be apologising. Trying to make amends. I’m sure she still loves you. Maybe she…’
Kerry cut her off. ‘Don’t. You don’t know her. You don’t know what she’s like.’
‘Yes, but…’ This time Erin stopped herself.
‘But, what?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No, go on. What were you going to say?’ He could feel himself getting angry. This was a stupid idea and more the fool him for thinking that by telling Erin that she would understand.
‘That a mother loves her child no matter what.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You’ve got a mum who loves you. You’ve come from a stable home. You weren’t rejected by your own mother. A real mother wouldn’t do that to their child.’
‘It’s not always that simple,’ said Erin. She began drawing circles in the sand again.
‘It is in my book.’
They sat in silence for a while. Kerry had no desire to continue the conversation about his mother’s behaviour and he was glad Erin didn’t seem interested either.
The wind blew across the dunes, making the long grasses bow in unison. Gradually, the thoughts of the confrontation with his mother and all he associated with it began to drift from his mind and, with it, the tension eased from his body.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘This is why I can’t deal with it. I get too mad.’
‘It’s because it hurts,’ said Erin. ‘And that hurt goes both ways.’
Kerry wasn’t sure he agreed, but he didn’t want to talk about it any more. ‘I could do with a pint. You fancy a drink?’
‘Now?’
‘Yeah, now.’ He stood up and held out his hand to help Erin to her feet. ‘Don’t think you’ve got out of telling me your secret.’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Erin with a smile. ‘You’re going to ply me with alcohol to loosen my tongue.’
‘Something like that.’
The pub is quiet and I’m glad Kerry texted Joe to check Roisin wasn’t about. Bumping into her again isn’t something I would relish just yet.
Joe and Bex are sitting in the corner of The Smugglers and have already got a drink in for us.
‘Where are the children?’ I ask as we sit down.
‘Max and Louise have taken them out for a while,’ says Bex. ‘It feels odd not having Breeze bundled up in front of me.’
‘We can all relax and enjoy a drink together,’ says Joe. He lifts up his pint. ‘Cheers.’
‘Let’s hope it stays this way,’ says Kerry, as we all make an approximation of clinking glasses.
‘Don’t be worrying about Roisin now,’ says Joe. ‘She’s gone off home. She’ll be fine tomorrow. Probably just having an off day.’