Five Little Words

by Jackie Walsh

  Conor says if it wasn’t for the entire village relying on the factory in some shape or form for its income, he would have let it go under. His mother was set up for life and he was still young. But he didn’t want that to happen. His father wouldn’t have let it happen. So when he was approached to sell the excess beer on the black market he jumped at the opportunity. It was only going to be necessary for a year or two. Then he’d be in a position to continue without it. So he went ahead. But like most bad ideas he regretted it the minute he started.

  Every Thursday, two trucks would come to the premises late at night and load up. At the end of every month Conor received a load of cash. Olive was the one who cooked the books for him. It worked seamlessly. No one found out except Detective Fintan Ryan who observed it happening one night. Conor convinced him it was a short-term measure to save the factory and therefore the village, so Fintan Ryan agreed to turn a blind eye.

  With hard work and a lot of marketing, Conor’s orders began to increase to the level that would free him from his involvement with the black market trade. Then the recession hit. There was no way out. He either had to stick to what he’d been doing, or fold. He stuck.

  Then the detectives arrived from Dublin to investigate Vicky Murphy’s murder. Detective Fintan Ryan thought they might discover what was going on at the factory, and that was, apparently, the argument I heard over the baby monitor. Fintan Ryan ordered Conor to pull the plug on his black market arrangements.

  Conor panicked. He felt his new perfect life was under threat. What about little Shay’s future? He had it all planned out. And me. How was he going to tell me the money was drying up? But he had to do what Fintan Ryan asked him to. Things would be a lot worse if he was caught. So Conor put an end to it.

  * * *

  I can’t believe my ears. Conor Caldwell is a bad boy. Jesus Christ, what next? Without saying a word, I get up and walk to the window. I see the city, drawn in lights. The shimmering colours shape the buildings, the traffic, the life. I take a deep breath and sigh. What am I supposed to do with this information?

  Conor turns around on the sofa to watch my every move.

  ‘You have to forgive me, Laura, I don’t know how I’d exist without you.’

  These words are the best words I’ve ever heard in my whole life. I’ve never felt so needed. I close my eyes to capture the moment. Then taking a deep breath, I turn to look at him.

  ‘But you lied to me, Conor.’

  ‘I know I did and I promise never to lie to you again.’

  My head is hurting. All that worrying and crying takes its toll. I sit back down beside him and notice the hope creeping into his expression. His worried eyes pierce a hole in my heart. How could I have thought for one moment that this man had had an affair with Vicky Murphy? Or even worse, killed her? He lied to me. But now that I’ve heard the story I can understand why.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  There’s a mug of tea on the bedside locker. The room is bright. I’m fully clothed and back in my own bed. In the corner of the room the cot sits empty, blankets strewn over the edge. Conor and Shay must be downstairs.

  My phone is flashing. Three missed calls from Amanda. Conor must have put it on silent when he brought the tea up last night and found me asleep. I’d say she’s itching with curiosity. I’ll have to call her and explain all. But not yet. Firstly, I want to see my little boy.

  Shay is lying in Conor’s arms when I enter the kitchen.

  ‘Is he okay?’ I say, reaching over to kiss his tiny head.

  ‘He’s perfect. Totally unaware his parents are loopy.’ Conor smiles at me. ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m grand, just want to jump into the shower before you head to work if that’s okay?’

  ‘Take your time Laura, I’m in no rush today.’

  * * *

  I’m wrapping a towel around my refreshed body when suddenly I remember the envelope I shoved into the baby bag. The one I found in Amanda’s dresser. The one that tells the whole story, not just the highlights.

  Feck, I hope Conor doesn’t notice it. There have been enough disclosures over the past few days to last a lifetime. No need for another one. Though I should tell him about the card that kicked off this whole tortured way of thinking. Tonight, I’ll tell him tonight.

  I drop the towel, pull my dressing gown on and rush downstairs. Conor is still engrossed in Shay when I barge into the room with my hair dripping.

  The bag is on the counter where I left it last night. It doesn’t look like it’s been touched.

  ‘I think I put my cream in here,’ I say, grabbing the bag and walking back out.

  In the bedroom, I take the envelope and look around me. Where can I put it? I’ll kill Amanda for holding onto it. She’s the one who kept telling me to let go, embrace the future, not to carry the past on my back. And now I find her with this. What was she thinking, keeping it in her apartment?

  For now, I’ll shove it under the mattress. Later, when Conor’s gone to work, I can tear it up into tiny little pieces and dump it.

  As one hand attempts to lift the weight of the mattress, the other slides the envelope underneath. But as I do so, I feel something else in the envelope, something lumpy, hard and small.

  Releasing my grip on the mattress, I reach inside the envelope and pull out a USB stick which I presume belongs to Amanda. I place the USB on the bedside locker and hide the envelope under the mattress.

  I wait until Conor has gone to work and Shay is sleeping before I ring Amanda. I snuggle up on the sofa, pull a throw over my legs and dial her number. I feel lighter today. Yesterday was such a nightmare. It’s hard to believe how twisted a mind can get if it’s not fed the proper information. I had convinced myself that Conor was the one having the affair with Vicky. Now in the cold light of day it seems so unlikely. Conor loves me. Why would he have an affair?

  Of course, I don’t blame myself for not figuring out the reason Conor was leaving the house in the middle of the night. It would be impossible to grow that scenario with no seeds. Beer smuggling. I didn’t even know it existed. So, like good old-fashioned insecure Laura, I panicked and thought the worst. Amanda will not be surprised. She might be proud of my actions though – taking Shay and running when I thought Conor could be lying about Vicky. Especially with Vicky dead.

  The phone rings out, which surprises me. I thought Amanda was eager to hear from me. She must be holding a conference.

  Relaxing on the sofa, browsing social media, I hear footsteps slowly dragging across the gravel. It’s Pat. I huddle down into the sofa hoping he’s not planning to call in here. Suddenly, I’m nervous. What if he does knock? Will I answer? I huddle further into the sofa, attempting to disappear from view. The footsteps fade past the house. Pat must be going down to the village. I hope he’s not calling to the police station with more demented nonsense.

  A few minutes later my phone buzzes. I have a message. Amanda.

  Sorry I missed your call. Finishing up a presentation. Then I’m free so I’ll be down, put the kettle on.

  Well that’s nice. Amanda cares a lot about me. Sometimes I feel I give her nothing back but grief. I’ll have to change that. Be more supportive. Ask her what’s going on with her life, if there’s anything she needs me to do for her.

  Shay whines in the corner of the room. He missed his bath yesterday, what with his mammy running away with him. Taking him in my arms, I hold him close to my chest against my heartbeat. It relaxes him.

  ‘Mammy’s going to make you an extra special bath today. I have a beautiful new ointment that your uncle Aidan and his very tall wife gave you.’

  The pile of gifts is still sitting where I left them on a side table. I haven’t put them away yet. I look and find the special bottle of ointment that Aidan’s wife went on and on about. ‘Just two drops in his bath,’ she said, making sure I knew how precious it was. I don’t know what its claim to fame is because she rambled on so much I’d zoned out of the conversation.

&nbs
p; ‘Here we go, Shay.’ I take the bottle, along with Shay, to the bathroom where I fill the baby bath with lukewarm water and two drops of magic. My hand gently glides the water over Shay’s belly. He pouts and puffs with excitement. Shay loves the bath. Maybe he’ll be a swimmer instead of the footballer Daddy wants. I don’t care as long as he’s happy.

  When Shay is resting in the middle of the bed, wrapped snuggly in a fluffy towel, I raid his wardrobe for clothes to put him in before he falls asleep. Waking him up is not a good idea. I find what I want to dress my little angel in and holding him close to me, I inhale his freshness. God, he smells like innocence.

  I’m about to leave the room when I notice the USB stick on my bedside locker. I grab it and take Shay down to his crib. He’ll probably sleep for hours after his bath.

  After Shay has dozed off, I plug the USB into my laptop and click on the file. A few files appear on the screen. I click on the first one named ‘Photos’ and the screen flashes but the file won’t open. Clicking on the second file… it opens. I click on one of the folders and see a draft. A newspaper report. Written by Vicky Murphy.

  My heart sinks. What is this? And what the hell is Amanda doing with it?

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Amanda walks through the door, immediately sensing my fear.

  I don’t know what to say so I nod at her to follow me and walk her to the laptop on the table. I point. It’s all I can do. Point.

  ‘What’s that you’re showing me?’ she says, pulling a stool closer and sitting in front of the screen. ‘Am I supposed to know what it is?’ She squints her eyes because Amanda refuses to wear glasses. She thinks they age her so she’d rather go blind.

  ‘Do you know what this is?’ I say, zooming in on Vicky Murphy’s name.

  Amanda takes a deep breath and leans back.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ she says.

  I’m not sure what to make of her reaction. She genuinely seems like she doesn’t know what she’s looking at. Her eyes are glued to me and there’s trepidation in her voice. ‘C’mon tell me, where did you get it?’ She leans back in to read the screen and attempts to open a file.

  ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘Is it Conor’s?’

  ‘No, it’s not Conor’s.’ Why did she pick him? Does she think that’s why I ran to Dublin yesterday? ‘Amanda, are you for real?’

  She turns her attention to me and looks confused.

  ‘I found this in your apartment yesterday,’ I say.

  ‘What?’ Amanda jumps off the stool.

  ‘Yes. In the envelope with my court case report.’

  Her head drops back. Amanda looks at the ceiling. ‘Oh,’ she says. I can almost hear the penny dropping. Then she brings her gaze back to me. I’m shaking and praying and staring at her.

  ‘Okay. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you this, but here goes.’

  * * *

  Vicky Murphy did ring Imanage. Rose did give her Amanda’s name and number and Vicky Murphy did make contact with Amanda. It happened a few weeks ago. Amanda said she knew immediately something was up. The conversation started out with Vicky saying she was trying to track me down because I was an old friend of hers from school. Of course, what Vicky didn’t know was that she was talking to my only old friend. Someone who knew everyone I’d ever known. If there had been a Vicky Murphy in my life before now, Amanda would have at least heard of her. So she was suspicious from the start.

  Amanda didn’t know what to do. She decided to play along, fill her in on my life up to now, leaving out my darkest hour. But Vicky was persistent. Amanda says she would have made a really good investigative journalist.

  Anyhow, when she asked Amanda had I had any other kids the alarm bells rang even louder in Amanda’s head so she called Vicky out. Asked her what she was really doing. Vicky came up with another story. Said she was doing a piece for the Ballycall newsletter to celebrate the Caldwell grandchild being born. It was to be printed when the baby arrived…

  Only someone who didn’t know Amanda would believe she’d fall for it. Amanda played along. She agreed to meet Vicky and give her some photos of me when I was a baby to enhance the piece. They agreed for Amanda to call in to Vicky when she was in Ballycall.

  Amanda was in Ballycall the next week as it turned out, just in time. She went to Vicky’s apartment after visiting me.

  Having manipulated her way inside the apartment, she confronted Vicky.

  Vicky tried to keep the charade going but when Amanda demanded to know why she asked about whether I had another baby, Vicky caved. She admitted she had found a story on the internet that she believed could have been about me.

  Threats flew around the room. Amanda told her she held the power to destroy her chances of ever being hired by a Dublin newspaper. Vicky said she had evidence that would destroy me. After an angry exchange, Amanda promised Vicky that if she gave her the evidence and withdrew from investigating me, she would use her contacts to get Vicky a job as a journalist.

  Amanda didn’t have any contacts. What she did have was the ability to win a battle. The war never entered her mind. How she planned to follow up on her promise she didn’t know but she would come up with something. She’d ask Pete Gunner, her boss at Imanage, if it came to it. He knew every overweight cigar-smoker in the city.

  So that’s how she ended up with the court report in her apartment. Vicky gave it to her, said she’d withdraw her investigation and would say nothing to Conor. Amanda made her delete the file on her computer and swiped the USB from it when she wasn’t looking. She was afraid Vicky had already made a copy. Amanda was good at covering angles. Even jagged ones.

  * * *

  ‘Did you ever hear from her again?’ I say.

  ‘Just the once a few days later. I told her things were in motion. Then – well, we all know what happened then.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Ah,’ Amanda stands up and walks over to the crib. ‘There was no need to worry you Laura, it was sorted. Fait accompli.’

  My head is buzzing. I can’t believe this went on behind my back. Amanda, once again saving my ass. But she should have told me. She lied to me when I asked her if Vicky Murphy had contacted her and she’s the one person I thought would never lie to me.

  ‘How is my little godson?’ she says, immediately changing the subject like she was just discussing the weather.

  ‘But…’ I’m in shock. Staring her out. Stuck to the floor.

  ‘But nothing, Laura. It’s over. Now, how is my godson?’

  The USB is burning a hole in my thoughts.

  ‘We’ll have to give it to the police, Amanda.’

  ‘What?’ she says, reaching into the crib to lift Shay.

  ‘The USB.’

  ‘What? Are you mad? Where will we say we got it?’

  ‘I don’t know but it could hold information, evidence.’

  I’m thinking of what Pat told the police. How he practically accused Conor. Christ, my head is going to burst.

  ‘I don’t know. We’ll tell them something. I’ll say I found it somewhere.’

  Holding the little bundle against her chest, Amanda rocks Shay gently from side to side.

  ‘Mammy is losing her marbles,’ she says to Shay.

  ‘I’m not, Amanda, it could be vital. Someone sent that card. Pat is trying to nail this on Conor. If there’s anything here that could help…’

  ‘Okay… Okay… Relax, Laura… I’ll tell you what,’ she takes her eyes off Shay for a moment to look at me, ‘let’s see what’s in the files and then we’ll decide.’ She lifts Shay away from her into the air. ‘But first, this guy needs changing.’

  Chapter Sixty

  Shay lies on the changing mat. Happy. He’s decided his hands taste nice and is now trying to put them in his mouth. I brush a piece of fluff off one of his toes before putting his feet back into the Baby-Gro. Then I lift him in my arms and take him to where Amanda is heating
his bottle. I wonder what he’d think of all this. So much has happened in the first few weeks of his life. Thank God he doesn’t understand. He’d probably want to crawl back into my womb if he did.

  ‘I think it’s warm enough,’ Amanda says, handing me the bottle. She sighs then sits on the stool by the counter. I’m only noticing now that she’s getting some lines on that beautiful face of hers. It doesn’t surprise me. One week in my life and even the bald would go grey. She’s like my guardian angel. Imagine doing all that for me and not being able to tell me. Amanda knows I would have freaked out if she’d told me. I’m not like her. I panic. Or at least I did.

  ‘Anyway, you never told me what happened yesterday,’ she says.

  * * *

  Two cups of coffee and a salad wrap later, Amanda knows all about Conor’s dance with the dark side. Amanda says she didn’t think he had it in him but is glad to hear it has come to an end. ‘Illegal is illegal,’ she says. ‘No matter how nice the guy or noble the cause.’

  The room has darkened while we’ve been talking. Amanda turns her attention to the laptop on the countertop. She opens the USB. The file named ‘photos’ still won’t open but some of the others do. There’s a piece Vicky had written about the day the Spar shop opened in the town and the effect it had on some of the smaller shops. There are quotes from different business people for and against it. From what I can gather, the piece appeared on the Ballycall Facebook page and nowhere else.

  There are other short pieces in this file, all referring to local interests dated years back. There are also lists of newspapers, local, national and international, all marked as having being contacted. Vicky Murphy did not dream small. The articles are named and dated and say who they were submitted to. I wonder if anyone ever read them.