HEGARTY, ALEXANDER (1938 – 2003) A plausible rascal, though not, I would contend, a particularly likeable one, Alex Hegarty was a frequent visitor to the Coe house throughout my childhood. For years, the Hegartys' arrival preceded the Hogmanay bells, causing Christine and I to flee his slightly metallic, cigarette breath. We'd watch from the stairs as the Hegartys encouraged our parents to remove their shoes and dance to Gary Glitter and Bay City Rollers songs on the radio. When I was seven years old, this ritual was disrupted by the most significant vision I had, up to that time experienced. Watching Alex Hegarty, face fixed in an expression of belligerence, clap his hands and stamp one foot in time to the music, the familiar features of our lounge dissolved around him, rearranging themselves as a woodland clearing. My parents and Myra Hegarty were no longer visible, though I was aware of their presence. Only Hegarty danced, his flared tartan trousers causing dead leaves to stir around his feet. Suddenly a young woman stepped from the undergrowth and walked slowly toward him. As she looked up, we made eye contact, causing me to be overwhelmed by a sensation of terrible sadness. Pointing at the prancing Hegarty with one hand, she held up the other, palm toward me, to reveal the number 4 written vividly in red. At that moment, Hegarty himself turned to face me. His eyes burned with such animal intensity that I recoiled, banging the back of my head against the wall. By the time I recovered my equilibrium, the scene had returned to normal.

For the next ten years, I tried to establish the meaning of the vision, a quest for truth that resulted in a rift between my parents and the Hegartys. Matters were complicated when I recognised the girl from the clearing performing one of Spencer's Saturday morning 'pop' shows. It was the rock singer Suzi Quatro. For years I had imagined she had been a victim of violence, perhaps murder. Now it occurred to me that I had tapped into Mr Hegarty's inner world. Unfortunately, my parents, completely estranged from the Hegartys after a distressing incident in which I was dragged from my hiding place in their tumble drier and cuffed about the kitchen, refused to telephone and ascertain whether Ms Quatro had played a prominent role in his sexual fantasies of the time.

My assault in the Hegarty kitchen, incidentally, was the catalyst in Mrs Hegarty's decision to leave her husband. While I failed to establish his role in a murder, my investigations did uncover various affairs with clients that must have put their marriage under considerable strain. Evidence of a propensity for violence was, I think, the last straw.

 

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