then somehow Larry was persuaded to come back from Boston and contest it in the ensuing by-election. With plenty of backing from within the party, and much to his own surprise, he won the seat. What followed was a blur that has lasted two and a half decades, a blur of clinics, funerals, functions, branch meetings, Oireachtas committees and, every few years or so, like a recurring anxiety dream, the curious sensation of being raised shoulder-high by screaming mobs of your own supporters at a count centre. Eventually, a junior ministry materialised, along with a little national exposure – on Morning Ireland , on Questions and Answers , on Tonight with Vincent Browne . Other junior portfolios came along, and then, at last, his first full seat at the cabinet table.
After that it was all very serious and grown-up – access, privilege, power.
Compromise.
He opens his eyes. They’re on Morehampton Road now, passing the old Sach’s Hotel.
But all of a sudden, for some reason, his mood has shifted. He feels anxious. He feels that familiar jumping in the pit of his stomach.
Then, as the car approaches the gates of the church, and he sees a big silver BMW pulling in just ahead of them, he realises why.
It’s because no matter how he looks at it, no matter from what angle, there is one constant in all of this, in his career, in his life, stretching right back to that surprise by-election of nineteen eighty whenever-it-was, and stretching right into his future, too, inescapable, looming like an Atlantic weather front. And that constant – over there now, struggling to climb out of his BMW – is, of course, Paddy Norton.
3
Despite her exhaustion (she didn’t get any sleep last night, and young Noel’s funeral was this morning), Gina immediately registers the contrast between yesterday’s removal in Dolanstown and the one today here in Donnybrook. Passing through the gates on the way in, she can’t help noticing all the BMWs, Mercs, Saabs and Jags. The church is smaller, too, but the crowd seems to be bigger. As she and Jennifer and her sisters (except for Catherine, who is at home, in bed, unconscious) get out of the funeral car and follow the coffin into the church and up the aisle towards the altar, Gina glances left and right at this congregation of what appear to be well-groomed middle-aged men and their brittle, pampered wives. There isn’t a hoodie or a tracksuit in sight. Instead, she sees silk suits, cashmere overcoats, fur coats – and hats , dozens of them (how many women yesterday were wearing hats?). And is it her imagination or is there something in the air, a certain pungency – a subtle fusion, perhaps, of incense, cologne and expensive perfume?
The ceremony passes quickly. It is dreamlike – the same words as yesterday, the same sentiments, the same skewed sense that none of this can possibly be for real. The hardest part – again, like yesterday – is when the members of the congregation file past the front pew to express their condolences. Although a form of torture, this also happens to be when Gina realises for the first time just how far Noel travelled in his life. She always knew that he was successful, but she is surprised to see certain people file past here, people he must have known, people whose circles he must have moved in – politicians, businessmen, sports stars, TV personalities. She realises how little she really knew him, and this adds to her heartache.
Afterwards, outside the church, the mood is sombre, but there is still an air of conviviality, as people greet each other, shake hands, slap shoulders and talk.
Jenny is very dignified, but she is frozen in her grief, moving slowly and saying almost nothing. Yvonne and Michelle, who are as tired as Gina, also find it hard to speak.
Gina, though, forces herself. She doesn’t know where to begin, or who to talk to, but she moves around, introducing herself to people, determined to get some kind of a fix on Monday night. It seems
After that it was all very serious and grown-up – access, privilege, power.
Compromise.
He opens his eyes. They’re on Morehampton Road now, passing the old Sach’s Hotel.
But all of a sudden, for some reason, his mood has shifted. He feels anxious. He feels that familiar jumping in the pit of his stomach.
Then, as the car approaches the gates of the church, and he sees a big silver BMW pulling in just ahead of them, he realises why.
It’s because no matter how he looks at it, no matter from what angle, there is one constant in all of this, in his career, in his life, stretching right back to that surprise by-election of nineteen eighty whenever-it-was, and stretching right into his future, too, inescapable, looming like an Atlantic weather front. And that constant – over there now, struggling to climb out of his BMW – is, of course, Paddy Norton.
3
Despite her exhaustion (she didn’t get any sleep last night, and young Noel’s funeral was this morning), Gina immediately registers the contrast between yesterday’s removal in Dolanstown and the one today here in Donnybrook. Passing through the gates on the way in, she can’t help noticing all the BMWs, Mercs, Saabs and Jags. The church is smaller, too, but the crowd seems to be bigger. As she and Jennifer and her sisters (except for Catherine, who is at home, in bed, unconscious) get out of the funeral car and follow the coffin into the church and up the aisle towards the altar, Gina glances left and right at this congregation of what appear to be well-groomed middle-aged men and their brittle, pampered wives. There isn’t a hoodie or a tracksuit in sight. Instead, she sees silk suits, cashmere overcoats, fur coats – and hats , dozens of them (how many women yesterday were wearing hats?). And is it her imagination or is there something in the air, a certain pungency – a subtle fusion, perhaps, of incense, cologne and expensive perfume?
The ceremony passes quickly. It is dreamlike – the same words as yesterday, the same sentiments, the same skewed sense that none of this can possibly be for real. The hardest part – again, like yesterday – is when the members of the congregation file past the front pew to express their condolences. Although a form of torture, this also happens to be when Gina realises for the first time just how far Noel travelled in his life. She always knew that he was successful, but she is surprised to see certain people file past here, people he must have known, people whose circles he must have moved in – politicians, businessmen, sports stars, TV personalities. She realises how little she really knew him, and this adds to her heartache.
Afterwards, outside the church, the mood is sombre, but there is still an air of conviviality, as people greet each other, shake hands, slap shoulders and talk.
Jenny is very dignified, but she is frozen in her grief, moving slowly and saying almost nothing. Yvonne and Michelle, who are as tired as Gina, also find it hard to speak.
Gina, though, forces herself. She doesn’t know where to begin, or who to talk to, but she moves around, introducing herself to people, determined to get some kind of a fix on Monday night. It seems
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