‘You think?’ With one hand she drums her fingers on the table, with the other she holds her chewed pen, poised to write. Everything I have said since I have arrived in the interview room has been transcribed into her scrawl despite the fact that there is a microphone and a camera monitoring my every move. ‘That Jenny was murdered?’ She flicks her eyes from mine to her page and then back again to me. There’s a look of concentration and righteousness in her eyes. ‘And that someone is trying to frame you.’ I nod, forcing the words out of my mouth.
‘Yes.’ I run my fingers through my hair. It’s a simple response but the truth is too complicated for now. There’s a complexity to Jenny dying that even I’m having trouble getting my head around, despite the fact that I’m complicit, despite the fact that Jenny dying had always been the plan and despite her name and her fight for the right to die campaign being plastered all over media.
‘Did you have anything to do with Jenny’s death, Liam?’
‘No.’ I speak quietly as though I want her to ask me to repeat myself because I know, given the chain of evidence that will lead back to me, that it will be hard to prove that I didn’t. ‘No,’ I say again, my voice dripping with despair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘I see.’ Her expression darkens a little. ‘Is there anything else you think I should know?’
It’s the type of question that a mother might ask a child when she already knows the answer.
‘No, and I didn’t do what I’m about to be accused of.’ Is this where I tell her about the plan, is this where I come clean?
‘What makes you think that you are going to be accused of anything Liam?’
‘Because…’ I take the time to choose my words carefully. ‘Because Jenny is dead, and as far as anyone who is about to investigate it is concerned, it’s going to look like it was me who helped her, which I didn’t.’ With the heel of my hand I wipe away the tears and bow my head into my hands, the same hands that held Jenny on Sunday after she drew her last breath, the same hands that wiped away her frozen tears, the same hands that pushed her long auburn hair from her face and closed her eyes for the last time. My gut twists as I picture her face, pale and sad but still beautiful.
‘Liam, this…’ She shakes her head, lost for words that will make this situation any better, ‘I’m just going to check something, have you told anyone that you are here?’
‘No.’ I presume she means Alex when she says it. ‘Well, the kids and Sarah know I’m here.’
‘And is there anyone at home with Abbie and Josh?’
‘Yes, Sarah,’
‘And who is Sarah again?’
‘Jenny’s friend, her best friend.’
‘Good, because, I think we’re going to need you to stay a while longer, if that’s okay?’
I nod and she gathers her papers and leaves the room without saying anything else, but she doesn’t have to. I know what she’s thinking and I know how this looks. I look guilty, I sound guilty. I have no alibi and the best defence I can muster is that I didn’t kill Jenny because the time hadn’t come yet. No matter what is uncovered, I’m complicit. How could I not be?
Part Two
1.
Of all the things Sarah had imagined since Jenny had been diagnosed with motor neuron disease, she had never been brave enough to allow her thoughts to stray past the point where Jenny was actually dead. Her children, Abbie and Josh, were deeply wretched with sadness. Today was a day that she hadn’t dared think about and it broke her heart to see them, huddled into themselves, overwhelmed with sadness, tear-stained cheeks, red raw eyes and shoulders slumped as though they were bracing themselves for impact, even though the impact had already landed and obliterated them on the spot like a mile wide meteor.
She had spent the entire night with them in the hospital after Jenny had died and when Liam left St Vincent’s for the Garda station to see Alex’s sister who was a detective there, she had volunteered to drive Abbie and Josh home. Josh had been awkward with her, which given what had happened on Friday night, was to be expected. When they didn’t invite her in as she pulled up on the street outside, she invited herself, following them down the pathway into the house. Sarah couldn’t help but notice the contemptuous expression on Josh’s face. There was a trace of impatience in the way he hovered uncomfortably in the kitchen as though he was un-inviting her to stay, as though if he didn’t sit down, she wouldn’t either so she made herself busy making tea instead, keeping herself out of his line of fire. Maybe she should have just dropped them off, waved at them from the driver’s seat as they opened the front door, sprouted the usual inane comments about ringing her if they needed her no matter what the time. Maybe she should have taken a step back… but that wouldn’t have felt right either. She knew what it felt like to feel lonely, to walk into your own home and know that you were on your own, that your mother was never going to be at home again. Besides, Jenny wouldn’t have wanted them to be alone and ever since Abbie had phoned her to tell her that her mum had died she had asked herself the same questions. Had she said enough? Had she done enough? Did Jenny know how much she meant to her? She wasn’t ready to be on her own either.
She watched from behind the kitchen island where she was busying herself making tea as Josh hauled the mustard throw from the back of the sofa in the kitchen and wrapped it around his sister’s shoulders before he sat beside her. She had seen him do this to his mum often too. She wanted to clear the air, find out what was going on in his head, but she couldn’t bring herself to. He was as awkward with her as she was him, at least that much was clear. The note that he had left had said everything. As soon as she had read it, she’d crumpled it and flung it into the bin – the last thing she needed was somebody else reading it.
‘You’re shivering,’ he said to Abbie as he gathered the balled up wet tissues that were scattered on her lap. ‘You’re tired as well, the best thing you could do is get a bit of a sleep,’ he suggested, his voice low, unsure of itself with Sarah in the room.
‘I just don’t understand,’Abbie sobbed, making Josh sit beside her while she spoke. She shook her head, her voice croaky, worn out from crying. ‘Like, how did we not know?’ She looked at her brother, tears rolling down her face. ‘How did she not tell us that this was what she was going to do?’ She shook her head again in disbelief. ‘I just don’t believe that she would leave us like this, I don’t.’ She buried her face in Josh’s chest and he held her there until her breathing settled and her eyes dried a little. ‘I’m okay,’ Abbie sniffled. ‘I might doze here for a while.’
Sarah could see that Abbie’s level of anxiety was as high as anything she had seen her experience before. Abbie had once said it felt like her heart was skipping every fifth beat and that her lungs felt as though the weight of a grizzly bear was sitting on her chest while she was trying to breathe. She watched as Josh looped his long arm across his younger sister’s back and sat beside her silently just like he always did when she needed that extra bit of comfort, reassurance that she wasn’t on her own. He was the typical big brother, the type that wouldn’t let anyone hurt her but he would gladly torment her himself.
‘And don’t worry,’ Abbie glanced over her shoulder and raised her voice so Sarah could hear her over the sound of the kettle boiling behind them. ‘I’m not all humpty dumpy.’ Sarah smiled at her reference. It was a reference that Jenny had used often. The inference to humpty dumpty and not being able to be put him back together again being the level at which Abbie’s anxiety was always gauged. ‘I promise,’ Abbie said. ‘I’m strong.’
‘Good.’ Josh tapped his sister with his elbow and leaned into her briefly, his shoulder touching hers as he sat beside her.
‘But if you do go all humpty dumpty, that’s fine too… I’ll be here to put you back together again, okay?’ He said.
‘Thanks Joshy.’ She smiled, ‘you and all the king’s women.’ She grinned sorrowfully.
&nbs
p; ‘Ah yes.’ Sarah watched as Josh leaned in to Abbie to answer her. ‘If the king’s women had been sent to put Humpty Dumpty back together again instead of the king’s men—’ he pointed his finger in the air ‘—first of all, they would have succeeded… and second of all, they wouldn’t have been immortalised forever more in a ridiculous nursery rhyme.’ He nodded triumphantly as he recited his mother’s words. ‘Women just get shit done and don’t need their egos celebrated.’
‘She really was so cool,’ Abbie added, her pale face and bewildered eyes making her look even more childlike than her fifteen years.
‘That she was, Abbie. That she was.’ Josh stood then, stretched his arms over his head and shook his legs coaxing the crumples of denim that had gathered around his knees to fall back into place. When he looked up, Sarah was looking directly at him and he looked away. She knew he wasn’t trying to make her feel unwelcome, he was just awkward with her being there which was perfectly understandable considering what had happened between them. ‘I’m just going to grab a shower.’ He patted his pocket, picked up the runners that he had kicked off earlier and headed for the door. Sarah was looking at him but he made sure not to make eye contact with her again.
‘But the tea’s just made.’ Sarah swallowed uneasily. ‘I’m about to make toast.’ It was the most reasonable reason she could come up with in the awkwardness.
‘I’ll get some myself later.’ He kept his head dipped and his shoulders hunched as he left the room. She waited with her head in the open fridge door under the guise of looking for the butter, until she heard the hum of his shower through the door from the bathroom in the hall.
‘Don’t mind him.’ Abbie looked after Josh nervously. He’s just… you know, he just wants to be on his own, that’s all.’
‘Don’t worry, don’t even mention it.’ Sarah did know, and she also knew why Josh couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye, not that she was about to discuss that with Abbie. ‘Are you hungry?’ Sarah didn’t wait for Abbie to answer and slotted four slices of bread into the toaster. ‘Did I see…?’ She didn’t finish her own sentence and opened up the fridge door again to check if she had seen what she thought she had. ‘Olives?’ She took them out and shook them gently in front of Abbie before she replaced them beside the feta cheese that was marinating in olive oil and sundried tomatoes that Jenny wouldn’t have bought either. Jenny’s fridge was always stocked, thanks to the online weekly shop, but never with the amount of delicatessen containers that were on the shelf now. ‘Your mum hates olives, she’d never have bought them.’ Abbie pulled herself up from the sofa and made her way to the kitchen island to sit with her.
‘I think Dad might have bought them.’ Abbie answered.
‘I see.’ Sarah sniffed. ‘I was thinking that your mum wouldn’t have bought olives.’ She winced animatedly as though she was talking to a seven-year-old and Abbie obliged with a smile in return,’
‘Yeah, but Dad loves them.’ She said. They sat in relative silence then. It made Sarah furious to think of Liam moving back into Oakley Drive and taking up where he had left off as though he hadn’t done anything wrong. Life really wasn’t very fair. If Abbie hadn’t been sitting across from her, she would have taken the olives out of the fridge and dumped them, or better still, dipped them in the toilet, replaced them in the plastic container and left them in the fridge for Liam to consume. She tried to calm her temper and was relieved when Abbie continued as though she hadn’t noticed.
‘You know yesterday, when I brought your mum back home and me and your dad had a few words…’ She lowered her eyes in shame at the blow up that she had had with Liam in front of Abbie and Josh. It hadn’t been her intention to lose her cool but when she had got back to the house with Jenny in the car to find Liam had parked in the driveway, she had just seen red. Normally, whenever they went out, Sarah would park in Jenny’s drive, run in for her walker, which they would have strategically left by the door and Jenny would be able to transfer into the house without the need of her wheelchair and out of prying sight of her neighbours. However, yesterday, because Liam had parked in the driveway, their routine was messed up. Abbie and Josh had been sitting on the sofa when Sarah had stormed in to call Liam the most selfish prick alive. She wasn’t sorry she had had a go at him, she was just sorry that the kids had heard it. ‘Was your mum upset after I left?’
‘No, I think she was fine, she and dad had a chat and then they spoke to us.’ Abbie hesitated when she heard the shower door open in the hall and waited until she heard Josh’s footsteps on the stairs before she continued. ‘Why?’ She asked. ‘Why do you want to know?
‘No reason, I was just worried that.’ Sarah stopped herself, making sure to find the correct words. ‘I was worried that your mum was upset, that’s all.’
‘No, she was fine.’ Abbie smiled trying to reassure her. ‘Honestly.’ She added pulling herself down from the high stool at the island to load her mug and empty plate in the dishwasher before she made her way to the sofa to fluff the cushions just like her mum would have. Ever since her parents had renovated the beautiful Victorian terrace seven years ago, the kitchen had always been her mum’s favourite place with its custom-made antique white kitchen cabinetry and matching built-in shelving units on the opposite wall. The shelves spanned the entire length of the extension and were stuffed to the brim with everything her mum had loved. There were hundreds of books in every colour, size and shape, souvenirs from special family trips, homemade presents that both she and Josh had given her and what looked like hundreds of photographs that had been taken over the years. Anything that her mum had treasured had been put on display.
‘Yeah, especially in the evenings,’ Sarah answered, clearing away the remnants of their brief breakfast together. ‘We spent many an evening in here, drinking wine, putting the world to rights… and before that, it was the front room. Sarah could remember the day in 1996 when Liam and Jenny had been given the keys. Up until then, Jenny had been living with her in her house in College Grove. ‘She absolutely loved the timeworn flamboyance of all the old things like the ornate cornices.’ Her eyes flickered towards the hall. ‘And the original tiled entrance porch, she was mad about that. But then one day she just woke up and said it felt like the house had shrunk overnight and that she was going to have to build on… I think that Barbie collection you had had something to do with it.’ She grinned at Abbie. ‘I honestly didn’t think the contrast between all the old out there and all the new in here would work, but your mum knew better… then again, she always had an eye for stuff that had value, she could always see the potential in things.’
‘She could,’ Abbie answered.
‘Do you remember the house the way it used to be?’ Sarah asked.
‘Bits of it, not really though. Did we stay with you while the work was being done?’
‘Only for about a month of it,’ Sarah said. ‘You would only have been eight, and Josh about ten.’ Her eyes glanced upwards to Josh’s movement upstairs. She remembered the kids had slept in the box room, Abbie in the bed and Josh on a mattress on the floor. Jenny and Liam had taken the front room, where Jenny used to sleep when she lived there, and Sarah had stayed in her own room to the back of the house. Things were so easy then, so ordinary and uncomplicated.
‘It feels odd being here, you know, without her,’ Abbie’s voice croaked a little making Sarah want to race to her, hold her like she was her own child, like Jenny would have if she were still alive – but she didn’t. ‘Everything just feels different.’
‘It will feel odd for a while, but you’ll…’ Sarah wavered, looking for the right words. Get used to it had been on the tip of her tongue but it sounded too crass. She knew only too well that you never really got used to your mum not being at home, you only got better at not caring, or at least better at pretending not to care. She scrambled for something more positive to say. ‘You’ll become stronger and more able to deal with the fact that your mum is no longer here,
honey.’
‘Actually, Mum used to say that about you, that you were strong…’ Abbie paused, not knowing how to phrase what she wanted to say. Her mum had told her bits about Sarah’s childhood, but she had never spoken to Sarah directly about it before. The main parts, or the parts that Abbie could remember were that Sarah’s mum got sick with cancer when Sarah was very young and then died when she had just turned eleven. Then when she was eighteen her dad died, of what she wasn’t sure, or maybe she was never told. According to her mum, having to be on her own and fend for herself from a very young age was one of the main reasons Sarah had become so capable, so strong and so in control.
‘She did?’ A small smile settled on Sarah’s lips at the thoughts of Jenny talking to her daughter about her.
‘She told me about your mum dying when you were very young… and then your dad…’ Abbie didn’t have the heart to finish the sentence, it felt too cruel.
‘You know, you do what you have to do to get by… but you’re right, real life does have a habit of getting in the way of childhood sometimes.’ Sarah scrunched her lips together in a half smile and squeezed Abbie’s arm with no intention of elaborating. She was confident Jenny would have given Abbie the PG version of events and she was happy with that. Abbie didn’t need to know that her dad had been so emotionally inept and completely incapable of being anything other than a drunk. He was useless before Sarah’s mum had died but he was even more useless afterwards. She had watched him as he withered away year after year on the inside of a whiskey bottle and she was relieved when, at the age of eighteen, she had found his cold rigid body at the end of the garden among the overgrown hydrangeas that her mother had planted when she was only a baby. It wasn’t long after that that Jenny had moved into College Grove with her. ‘So at least you know that I know what I’m talking about when I tell you that you’re going to be okay.’ Sarah allowed a real smile to form on her lips as the memory of Jenny’s formidable character came to mind. ‘And as your mum liked to tell us from time to time, she was always right or at the very least—’ Abbie joined in and finished the sentence in unison with her ‘—seldom wrong.’ They giggled quietly together, both of them shook as they remembered the most important person in both their lives.
When the Time Comes (ARC) Page 2
