The Affectionate Player - Part2

Chapter 12

"Jonny King was the drummer. I married his daughter but she died eighteen months ago. He's hated me since I met her and has tried to make my life hell ever since."

"He sounds like a piece of work. Grief brings out the worst in some people."

"He took my son, Father, and seriously injured Gracie. I'm not ashamed to say that if he comes anywhere near us again I won't be held responsible for my actions."

"It's understandable that you're angry, Max. It's instinctive for you to want to protect your family but you must think of your children and Gracie. Being thrown in jail will serve them less than you seeking justice for what he's done. But I think you know this. You seem like a good person and if you'd like my advice don't let Jonny turn you into the very person you loathe. Your children will learn nothing from you mirroring his behaviour."

My eyes shoot straight to Max. I'm expecting fireworks from him or some kind of retaliation at being challenged but there's none. Instead, Max reluctantly utters his agreement with Father Paul.

"Gracie?" Turning my head my eyes meet Father Paul's.

"Roisin or rather Geri, she was Max's financial manager? That's how you met?"

"That's right."

"Interesting she chose a career in that field considering how dreadful her math was at school."

"At school? You knew her?" I almost squeak the words, my reaction one of total shock.

"Yes. I knew Cillian, Roisin and Kerry very well – the four younger siblings not so much. Colleen and Frances were small and the twins, Bridie and Margaret, well they lived with Paddy's mother. They were inseparable and died in the fire with their granny."

"What? But that's horrific. They died too?"

"Sadly, yes. It was a terrible time, Gracie."

"I don't understand. How old was I when the fire happened?"

"You were waiting to be born, child." My heart sinks and not for the first time today.

"My parents told me I was six months old when the fire occurred and they certainly didn't mention anyone else dying other than Cillian and Willow in a car accident. They told me Cillian was my father. They must have lied to me."

"Maybe they simply repeated to you what they'd been told. It was a very confusing time for the Devenney family."

"They lost two of their children in a fire?" Nodding, Father Paul replies.

"They must have been distraught. I know I'd be if I ever lost my babies."

"The twins were nine years old when they died. It was a tragic time for Willow and Paddy and understandably they took it very bad. Willow was heavily pregnant with you and I think when you were born she slipped into a depression. My uncle would know more having arranged her aftercare. Paddy was no help whatsoever, he hit the drink until one day years later it decided to hit him back. He died in a stupor ten years ago." I sit forward eager to learn more.

"And Willow? When did she die?" Father Paul studies me then sighing he gently shakes his head.

"Your mother is still alive, Gracie."

A sudden coldness creeps across my skin chilling me to the bone. I'd assumed she was dead, at least I've always thought of her that way. I'm momentarily speechless and don't know what to say or how to respond. Should I be happy? Should I be pleased that the woman who gave birth to me is still alive? I feel no happiness and instead I want to scream. Have I been lied to my whole life or are my feelings the result of my own assumptions? Angrily I stand, grabbing the glass of whiskey drinking it back in one gulp.