(Author’s Note: Apologies for any errors, most especially concerning Tim’s school age. I am assuming that Tim is in his last year of primary school, and about to move up. It wouldn’t be the first-or last-time I’ve been wrong, so if I am, let’s just chalk it up to alternate universe stuff. Thanks for your patience.)

Previous Chapter

---

Ten years spent living with Sister Monica Joan taught Shelagh that sometimes you couldn’t play fair. She wasn’t manipulating Patrick, precisely, but if she could soften him up a bit, make him more amenable to talk, well then, she would. He had made strides in the area, but discussing personal problems still did not come easily to her husband. Shelagh was hopeful that her steak and kidney pie and a chocolate sponge would smooth the road.

The fates seemed on her side that evening. Despite being in the middle of flu season, Patrick got home early.  At nearly four months, Angela was entering that charming-baby phase and was as delighted with the extra attention from her father as he was with her. Even Tim worked quickly to finish a theme, and helped set the table without being asked. Shelagh smiled, hoping it was a good omen.

Despite the happy mood, Shelagh was nervous. It was one thing to decide to push for a difficult conversation. It was quite another to carry it out. Patrick was trying to open up, but could still shut down when matters became uncomfortable, and Shelagh wasn’t completely certain of her assertiveness.

Timothy became increasingly animated as dinner progressed. His parents shared amused glances as he kept the family entertained with a long tale of the afternoon’s science club meeting. Shelagh and Patrick weren’t entirely sure what happened, but there was something involving a paper maché volcano, vinegar and bi-carb, and an explosion all over the play yard.

Over his second slice of cake Tim announced, a little too brightly, “Gary got caught smoking in the lav during Library time today.”

Shelagh’s fork fell to her plate. She could sense the change in her husband immediately. Drat that Gary. Somehow his mischief  always seemed to seep into other people’s lives. All her hopeful planning went out the window.

Glancing quickly at his wife, Patrick then turned to his son. “Smoking?” he asked, stunned. “He’s eleven!”

“Uh-uh,” Timothy answered, “Gary’s turned twelve. He’s the oldest in the year.” His eyes shifted away from his father.

Suddenly suspicious, Patrick glowered. “Who was with him?”

Timothy didn’t answer.

“Timothy.” Patrick’s voice demanded a response.

“I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t my fault.” Timothy’s eyes pinkened as he glared back at his father defiantly.

With a deliberateness that set Shelagh on the edge of her seat, Patrick placed his fork next to his plate and took a deep breath. Quietly, he asked, “Timothy, who was with Gary when he got caught smoking cigarettes in the lav?”

Timothy swallowed hard, his throat convulsing with the movement. “Jack…and me. But we weren’t-”

Patrick’s hand shot in the air between them, demanding silence. “I’m going to ask you a question, and you may only answer with one word.” He paused and even Angela seemed to hold her breath. “Were you with Gary in the lavatory today while he was smoking?”

“Yes,” Tim answered, his voice very quiet.

Shelagh wanted to step in to shield Timothy from the anger she could feel growing in her husband, but knew this was a time to stay on the sidelines. Patrick could be very stern but was rarely unfair, and another voice would only complicate things.

Patrick pinched his nose, his shoulders tense. “And do you think this was a good idea?”

Timothy had been on the receiving end of enough lectures from his father to sit quietly. “No, sir.”

“Do you know how important this year is at school?” Patrick sat back in his chair.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why is it so important?” Patrick asked calmly. Too calmly, Shelagh thought.

“Because I want to get into a good school. Sir,” he added.

Patrick stood up suddenly and walked out of the room. Timothy’s eyes were wide as he looked to his mother. Shelagh smiled an encouragement she didn’t feel.

Patrick returned, a furious expression on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. Turning, he left the room again, only to return immediately, his hands clenched.

“We have not raised you to lurk in lavs smoking with troublemakers, Tim.” He raised his hand and shook his finger. “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t do it, Dad! I didn’t! After gym class we all had too much water, so Mrs. Cleary said as we had picked out our books we could go to the lav. There were  only two-” he glanced at his mother, embarrassed, “-you know-  working, and we turned around and there was Gary lighting a cigarette. He didn’t even smoke it, really. But then I reckon it was taking us a bit too long and Mr. Wilder came in to check up on us.”

Tim’s strident voice upset Angela, and she began to whimper. No one spoke as Shelagh stood and took the baby in her arms, soothing her, then moved to hand the baby to her husband. “Shelagh, not now,” Patrick resisted.

Quietly, Shelagh prevailed upon him. “Yes, Patrick. Give me one minute, please.”

Patrick pressed his lips together tightly and took the baby, willing himself to calm down.

“Timothy, dearest,” she turned to the boy, her calm voice soothing the frayed nerves in the room. “Why haven’t we heard from your teacher? Is there a note we should see?”

Perhaps it was the sudden change of mood, but the tears Timothy had been struggling to hold back fell down his cheeks. He shook his head. “No. Honest. I wanted to tell you myself because you always say things will go better if you hear something from me first. Mr. Wilder believed us.” Tim sniffed and glanced at his father.

Before Patrick could respond, Shelagh said, “We do believe you, Timothy. Don’t we, Patrick?” her eyes encouraged her husband to follow her lead. Meeting her look, Patrick nodded.

“You do? You believe me?” Timothy sniffed, trying to stop his tears.

Patrick sighed. Handing the baby back to his wife, he answered. “Timothy, we trust you. But we also know you’re still a child. You’re going to do foolish things.” He sat in his chair and looked his son in the eyes. “You promise you had no idea what Gary was up to?”

Timothy nodded and wiped his face on his sleeve. Patrick hid a grin at the childish gesture.

“All right, then. And do you promise-”

“I’m not going to smoke, Dad,” Timothy interrupted, “I promise. And I’ve told Gary that I won’t play with him anymore. I’m tired of getting into trouble because of him.”

Patrick considered his son for a moment, then nodded his head. He reached over and gently tousled the boy’s hair.

“Dad, don’t!” Timothy moaned, but his smile was wide.

“Well, if you’re done here,” Patrick answered, “you’d better start to clear the table.” The drama over,  he was eager for things to return to normal.

For effect, Tim rolled his eyes. “I suppose I can’t say I’ve still got too much homework?”

“No dice, I’m afraid. You owe your mother.”

Timothy grinned. “Don’t I know it?” Stacking the dessert plates, he moved into the kitchen.

Patrick got up and went to his cigarette case on the mantle. Lighting one up, he said, “Clever use of the baby, sweetheart.”

Shelagh smiled. “We all have a part to play in the family, dearest.”

Next Chapter