by Jackie Walsh
It’s all coming back to me now. Those nights before I met Conor. Amanda out having a great time. Me, sitting crying, looking out a window. At least this time, I have Shay. I have a reason to go on, to fight the fight. And I will. If misery has taught me anything, it’s not to become friends with it.
The sound of footsteps on the gravel outside quickens my heartbeat. Pat is shuffling down the side of the house. I jump from my stool and run to the back door. His slow struggling body comes into view.
‘Pat, can I have a word?’
He stops, lifts his drooping head and looks at me.
‘I need to talk to you Pat, it’s very important.’
He moves his gaze from me to the forest as if contemplating whether or not to ignore me. But he doesn’t. He walks over to me. I stand back and ask him to come into the house. I’m not as nervous as I thought I’d be. I’m too eager to find out what this man knows.
‘Maybe you’d like to sit down,’ I say, pulling out a chair for Pat.
Pat removes his cap and sits. His silence makes everything so much harder than it should be. I’ve never heard him volunteer to start a conversation, but then—
‘Where did you get that?’ He lifts the lodgement book from the table in front of him and stares at me.
‘I got it in your cottage Pat. You need to tell me what’s going on.’ My voice sounds a little harsh.
‘When were you in my cottage?’ His eyes are drained of life, without colour. Dark strands of hair streak through the grey showing hints of how it used to be.
‘I was in your cottage earlier Pat. I’m sick of your allegations. Conor has been arrested because of you. Now tell me. What is going on? Why are you giving money to Vicky’s mother? Was Vicky your daughter?’
Pat jerks back in the chair. ‘No. No,’ he says. ‘Not my daughter.’
I could feel my heart thumping against my ribs. Blood rushing around my body. ‘Whose daughter was she?’ I say. Pat turns his head and looks out the window. I fear he might shut up again so I persist. ‘Whose daughter Pat?’ He turns around. There’s a look. I can see it in his eyes. Pat knows if he answers my question, everything is going to change.
‘Seamus’s. Vicky was Seamus’s daughter.’
I’m trying not to act too overwhelmed by this revelation but I’m pretty sure I’m not pulling it off. My mouth won’t close. My eyes won’t blink. Vicky was Conor’s sister. It all makes sense now, why Pat thinks Conor killed Vicky. For the brewery, just like he killed his father. Pat must think Conor knew Vicky was his sister but Conor didn’t know. Well, I’m presuming he didn’t, but the way things are unfolding I wouldn’t be surprised if he did know, if the whole world knew about it. Am I the only fool in this village who believes what they’re told? But no. Conor couldn’t have known. Could he? And Maggie. Did she know?
‘Pat, did Conor know?’
He nods his head.
‘But…’ I can’t think straight, my head is filling with scenarios and suspicions. ‘What makes you think Conor knows?’
‘Vicky told him the night she was killed.’ Pat’s voice is very low and hard to hear but to me the words are loud, crashing into my head, smashing my world. Pat must see my stress. He pulls his chair closer to the table and starts to explain that Vicky found out the day she was killed that Seamus was her father. Pat himself told her. Seamus had left instructions in his will for Vicky to be told whenever Erin or Pat deemed it to be the right time. Pat knew Erin would never tell her. She never wanted Vicky to know. Pat had mulled over telling Vicky ever since Conor got married and with Vicky about to become an aunty, Pat had decided it was the right time. Vicky had to know. He was sick of keeping it from her and he was getting older. He didn’t want the secret to die with him.
The allowance Pat was getting from the brewery was not for himself like everyone thought, it was for Vicky. Now Pat is convinced Vicky told Conor that day and Conor killed her to keep the brewery for himself. Just like he killed his father.
‘But Vicky never got to speak to Conor,’ I say. ‘She sent him a text to contact her but he never answered it, he was busy at work and then I went into labour. He didn’t even see it.’
Pat pushes his chair back and stands. ‘Well he is going to say that, isn’t he?’
‘But what if he’s telling the truth Pat? Have you considered that? What if he didn’t get to speak to Vicky?’ Pat puts his cap on, straightens his back and stands. He has no interest in hearing my opinion.
‘Did Maggie know?’ I say.
Pat shakes his head. ‘No, Maggie never knew Vicky was Seamus’s child.’ He stops for a moment, staring into space. Is he only now considering all the people this affects? The damage revealing his secret will do. The damage it has already done.
He’s about to walk out the door when I remember the card.
‘Pat.’
He turns slowly, his eyes sad, his body tired.
‘Did you send me a card?’ I’m standing staring at him. My legs shaking. My trembling hands clenched tightly.
Pat sighs and turns back to walk out the door. ‘Someone had to warn you,’ he says, then steps out into the night.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
The lights from the village twinkle in the distance. I’m sitting in my bedroom at the window with Shay in my arms, feeding him his bottle. His eyes are still closed but he’s sucking away. I try not to cry with him in my arms. I don’t want him feeling my distress, the scent of my sadness seeping into his soul. This is my pain, my punishment, it has nothing to do with him.
There has been no news yet from the station. I rang but got no answer. Fintan needs to know about the card Pat sent me. His mind has become twisted from years of sheltering someone else’s secrets. Pat thought he was warning me by sending the card. Did he not know it would scare me, send me down a road tortured with fear and paranoia? Not knowing who I could trust?
I thought Fintan would have called me by now. Maybe Conor is on his way back. Fintan might be driving him home at this very moment. Or is that just me being optimistic? Trying to think positive. Putting all those sessions with the therapist to good use.
But who am I kidding? Everything points to Conor. The text. Leaving the house in the middle of the night. And now the big motive. Vicky was his sister. Vicky was entitled to half of everything.
But still, something doesn’t seem right. I don’t believe that Conor would kill someone. He never even wanted the brewery. He wanted to go to college, not bottle beer. Ironic that Vicky was the one going to college. I wonder what she thought when she found out she owned half of the beer she was selling behind the bar every night. Ripped off maybe? Excited? Afraid? A tsunami of emotions brought to shore by one strong gust of wind, the truth.
I notice the lights of a car coming down the road. I stand and move closer to the window. Is it them? Is Conor coming home? I remember to smile at Shay before looking out to see the car passing the entrance.
I think of Maggie. What will she think when she hears about Vicky? Her husband was a cheat. Was it just a once off or were there other women? Did Maggie know and decide to live with it, hiding her pain behind lipstick smiles and fancy fur coats? Or is she about to have her heart broken?
The night has never looked so dark and rain is beginning to fall. I burp Shay, change his nappy and put him down to rest. I switch the mobile toy on above his head and leave the room.
The house feels eerie, like it’s waiting for something to invade it. Something unwelcome. I go down to the kitchen and take a bottle of red wine from the wine rack. I’m pouring some into the glass when I think of blood. Splattered blood, pools of blood. Jamie. I empty the glass into the sink and switch on the kettle. A thought enters my head. Conor could have killed Vicky. Why am I so convinced he didn’t? I’ve only known him a little over a year. He was able to hide the beer smuggling from me. Maybe he didn’t want Vicky to find out about that. There would have been a big audit, a big dividing of the wares, and Conor’s little black-market empire would hav
e been discovered. Oh Christ, what if that’s true? What if Conor is guilty?
The rain is pelting down now. I make myself a cup of coffee and move over to where the laptop is. Maybe the photos on the USB will divert suspicion from Conor. After all, Noel had a motive too. Vicky’s photos could have cost him his home, his wife, his career, leaving him with nothing. I’m glad now that I gave the USB to Fintan.
I check my phone, still nothing. I’m about to call the station again when the front doorbell rings. I rush to open it and find Detective Fintan Ryan standing there. But there’s no Conor.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Yes, yes.’ Standing back, I direct Fintan into the kitchen. His jacket is soaked. His face is grey. I’ve a million questions and yet nothing comes out of my mouth. I wait for him to speak.
‘Are you okay?’ he says. I nod, staring at his lips, eager for him to say more. ‘Conor is okay Laura, he’s doing okay, considering.’
‘Is he coming home?’ I say.
Fintan shakes his head. ‘Not yet, they’re not finished with him. I just wanted to ask you something.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, it’s just about the USB you gave me earlier. I was having a look at it down at the station and well…’ Fintan wipes the dripping rain from his forehead. ‘Where did you get that Laura?’
‘What?’
‘The USB, where did it come from?’
I feel myself turning red, heat washing in waves over my body. I promised Amanda I wouldn’t mention her name. ‘Someone put it through the letterbox, I don’t know who. Why? Was it helpful?’
‘Very.’
I take a deep breath and relax. They’re now going to focus on Noel. Conor will be set free. I knew it couldn’t have been him.
‘When did the USB arrive?’
‘Just yesterday.’
‘And you’ve no idea who put it in the letterbox?’
‘No, but does it matter? It shows what it shows,’ I say, wondering why they care. Surely the photos are enough proof that Noel had a motive without needing to know where it came from.
‘Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that,’ Fintan says. ‘The last file Vicky saved onto the USB was dated the day she died. Whoever took it from her computer was the last person to see her alive.’
I freeze. I can see Fintan’s lips moving but I can’t hear anything. I try to open my mouth but it won’t open. Could she have…? No, not Amanda. She wouldn’t do a thing like that.
But Amanda said she called to Vicky the week before she was murdered so… So why did she have that USB in her apartment? Unless… Amanda lied to me? Amanda was there the day of the murder. She was the last person to see Vicky Murphy alive. I can’t breathe. The space around me blurs as I realise what this means. Did Amanda kill Vicky?
‘Are you okay, Laura?… Are you ok?’ Fintan’s words gradually come into focus. I force my eyes to blink. ‘I—I’m fine, I just…’
‘I know it’s a shock Laura, but we need to find out who had the USB if we’re going to prove Conor didn’t take it from Vicky’s apartment.’ He looks at his feet then back at me. I can tell he’s not falling for the letterbox story.
‘So, I’ll ask again, Laura. Where did you get the USB?’
Chapter Sixty-Nine
I can feel Fintan’s eyes on me. But what do I say? If I tell him the truth, that I found the USB in Amanda’s apartment, Amanda will be arrested. She could go to jail and all because of me.
If I don’t tell him where I found it, they’ll think Conor took it from Vicky’s apartment. Conor will be charged. Shay’s daddy will spend his son’s childhood in prison. Choosing between the two people I love most in this world, my two best friends, is an impossible task.
Amanda is the one person who has always been there for me. When I was arrested for causing Jamie’s death, she stood up in court and told the judge how wonderful a mother I was, which helped get my sentence suspended. Amanda never judged me.
As kids, she was always looking out for me. I remember playing skipping on the green in front of the house one day when Sharon Grey pushed into the queue in front of me. I stood back and let her. Amanda dragged her by the hair to the end of the queue and told her if she cut in front of me again, she’d beat her up. Amanda was only six at the time. I was almost nine. She had already sensed how weak I was and gradually became my bodyguard, my life coach, my everything. She wrapped an invisible blanket around me and took me everywhere with her. Even to Imanage, where she got me the job that led to my meeting Conor. How could I betray her now? She was trying to protect me by going to Vicky’s. Trying to keep my new perfect world intact. This is my fault.
But Conor. How could I possibly send Conor to jail? He’s Shay’s father. I love him. The moment I met Conor was the moment I began to live again. Conor gave me back everything I’d lost: respect, confidence, the ability to get excited about something, anything. He took my dull existence and made it worthwhile. He loves me and I love him.
Conor has suffered enough pain. People don’t see it. They just see money and privilege and luxury. They don’t see the sorrow gnawing at his soul. And I know for certain that Conor didn’t kill Vicky. My husband is not a murderer.
* * *
‘Where did you get the USB, Laura?’ Fintan sighs. He’s tired, waiting for me to answer. Fintan is not aware that if I answer, I’ll be sending someone I love to jail. And all because of my secret. I should have told Conor the truth about Jamie in the beginning. If I had, Vicky Murphy would be alive today.
‘Laura,’ Fintan says. He wants answers. He wants the truth. I lift my head. Tears blur my vision. I wipe my eyes and look straight at him. This the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do but I must do it. I have no more room for secrets, dragging me down. Keeping me afraid and wrapping me in guilt. I’m a mother now and this time I’m going to be the best mother a little boy could have.
Chapter Seventy
ONE YEAR LATER
‘Careful, Shay.’
Shay is making his first attempt to crawl up the stairs. I’m behind him, hands outstretched, ready to catch him if he falls. In the background the radio blares as I wait eagerly for the news to air. It’s been over a year and they’re sentencing her today. Manslaughter. Eight long years, the solicitor reckons. I wanted to go to the court to be with her but Amanda didn’t want me there.
‘Good boy, Shay,’ I sing, encouraging his progress.
In the distance, my phone rings but I ignore it. Shay’s journey is more important. He giggles each time he reaches the next step. I wish Conor was here to see his little boy climb his first mountain.
We’ve all been climbing mountains since Amanda was arrested. Seeing her in custody is heartbreaking. Amanda had gone to Vicky’s apartment to protect me and I gave the detective her name. At first she wouldn’t talk to me, but eventually, after a few visits, she told me what happened.
A few days before she was killed, Vicky contacted Amanda about a piece she was writing, Ballycall’s newest arrival, for the Ballycall Journal. Amanda became suspicious when she asked if it was my first baby and agreed to meet her with some photos of me as a child, to enhance the story. Amanda confronted Vicky and discovered she had been right. Vicky was going to print the story about my past which she’d dug up on some newspaper archives site. Amanda begged her not to but Vicky wouldn’t give in and told her to leave or she’d call the police. Amanda walked towards the door. She could see everything falling apart, I could lose Shay and she wasn’t going to let that happen to me, again. She turned around and in one mad moment of uncontrollable anger, she grabbed a knife from the countertop and stabbed Vicky.
Tears rolled down her pale face as she told her story. Her hair was scraped back into a ponytail. Dark rings circled her sunken eyes. The glamorous city girl look was gone. Replaced with a prison tracksuit and a broken heart.
I reached out to touch her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Amanda.’ My whisper, barely audible through my tears.
‘No,’ she
said, lifting her eyes to look at me. ‘I’m sorry.’
* * *
‘Daddy will be home soon, Shay.’ I watch my little boy turn his head to look at the door.
‘Da Da.’
‘Yes, Da Da.’ I scoop him in my arms, nuzzle into his belly and carry him back down the narrow stairs of our cosy two-bedroom house.
It’s a lot different to Ballycall. The sound of traffic replaces the birdsong and no one lives at the end of our tiny garden.
Pat is still in the cottage apparently, even though the house is up for sale. Maggie keeps us up to date with all the goings-on. At first she wasn’t happy when Conor told her he was leaving the brewery to study astronomy. And still, even now, each time she visits she comments on how hard it must be to live in such a small space, having been used to such luxury. I want to answer by saying nowhere is as small as Ballycall, but Conor always winks at me, keeping me quiet and making me smile.
It was hard for Maggie, having to come to terms with the news about Vicky. If she suspected Seamus of being unfaithful, she didn’t say. Let bygones be bygones is Maggie’s motto, though she still gets the odd dig in about Amanda. The outsider who brought murder to the village. I’ve learned to let it wash over me. To concentrate on the good things. Conor, Shay, the sun shining.
With Shay in his highchair sucking a carrot stick, I chop the cilantro and put the finishing touches to the couscous.
‘Who’s this coming?’ I say, hearing the front door open.
The carrot stick is dropped. Shay looks at the door. He smiles with arms outstretched when Conor walks in.
Conor is wearing torn jeans, a t-shirt and hasn’t shaved today. He’s determined to make a claim on his student years. He drops his satchel to the ground and kisses me before taking Shay out of the chair.
Moving away from the village was the best thing that ever happened to Conor. He left behind a past he’d never wanted for a future that is his own. He still sees Noel quite a bit. Abbie dumped Noel when she found out about the photos and Noel and Olive are now together. I’m happy for Olive. She got her man and now she’s sitting in Conor’s office at the brewery.
