by C. L. Taylor
‘Did you see a plumber turn up?’
‘Well … I didn’t spend the whole afternoon looking out of the living-room window but no, I don’t think so. The boys normally run to the window when someone parks outside in case it’s their dad, but they didn’t do that.’
‘Did you see anyone else go in or out the house?’
‘No.’
‘And you didn’t hear Max talking to anyone? Or see anything unusual? No one in the garden or the alley at the back of the houses?’
‘No, nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘And the next time you saw Max was on Sunday the thirteenth of February?’
‘That’s right, yes. It was the day before we flew to India, just after lunch. Dad had arrived to collect the cat. I was saying goodbye to him at the front door when Max came out of your house. I was surprised because I hadn’t seen either of your cars out the front for a few days. I didn’t even realise Max was home. He didn’t stop to say hello so I called after him and asked if the pipes had been fixed. He said yes and kept on walking.’
‘How did he seem?’
‘Unfriendly. What the hell’s going on, Jo? When we got back from India last week you were all over the news. Aakarsh saw your picture on the TV and called me into the living room. I couldn’t believe it.’
‘It’s a long story.’ I glance across at Elise who has slipped off the bed and is rummaging around in the box of toys that Mary loaned us. ‘Listen, Naija. I might need you to talk to the police.’
‘I already have.’
‘What?’
‘They knocked on the door a couple of days ago, shortly after I’d emailed you. They asked me if I knew where you were. I said I didn’t know.’
‘I’ll need you to talk to them again, to tell them what you just told me about Max.’
‘Of course but why?’
‘Because he’s the reason I’m on the run. He set me up to the police and Social Services to make me look like an unfit mother.’
‘So come back. Tell them that. I’ll go to the station with you.’
‘I can’t, not yet.’
‘Why not? If you haven’t done anything wrong then surely—’
‘Elise, no!’ I cry out, distracted by my daughter. She’s lost interest in the box of toys and is reaching for Henry’s box. I moved it from the wardrobe to the bottom of the bed before breakfast so I wouldn’t forget it. As I lunge towards her she grasps the box with two hands and attempts to lift it up. I watch, horrified, as it tips forward, the lid opens and dozens of banknotes flutter to the floor.
Chapter 55
Come on Max, you can crack this. You can find her. You didn’t travel all this way to give up now.
Max shifts uncomfortably in his car. He’s moved the seat back as far as it goes but his legs are still horribly cramped. He’s still parked up outside the Sacred Heart church, his new mobile phone in his hand, and he’s squinting at the screen. According to the website he’s found, the only records held in Roscommon are mostly births, deaths and marriages that took place before 1921, and if you want to get hold of them you have to fill out a form and send it in. He might as well have stayed in Bristol and waited for the ancestry website to send him a copy of the bloody marriage certificates.
But he’s here, he’s in Ireland, and so are Jo and Elise. It’s a big country and they could be anywhere. If he was on the run he’d go somewhere completely random, a town or a city he had no connection with so he could lose himself in the crowds and the hubbub. But Jo’s not like him. She’s soft and sentimental, not to mention agoraphobic. He can’t imagine her hiding away in a bedsit or a hotel room somewhere big and unknown like Dublin or Cork. No, she’d go somewhere she’d been before, somewhere she’d felt safe. She’d flee to the village on the east coast where she grew up. He feels sure of it.
He unfolds his map of Ireland, takes a pen out of his pocket and circles the villages on the east coast that are north of Dublin: Howth, Portmarnock, Malahide, Skerries, Balbriggan, Laytown, Bettystown, Termonfeckin, Clogherhead, Annagassan. He keeps circling the names of villages until he reaches the border with Northern Ireland then he stops and flips open his notebook.
Brigid Gallagher
Liam O’Brien
Joseph Kearney
One of those two men is Jo’s father.
He takes his phone out of the inside pocket, unlocks it and cricks his neck to the left, then the right. It’s going to take him a while to enter all the different combinations of names and villages into the Irish News Archive but, other than wait for a marriage certificate to be sent to him, it’s the only lead he’s got.
He taps on the text box, enters the words Brigid Gallagher, Howth and then presses the Search Now button. A pop-up appears on the screen:
‘Searching Archives
Please wait …
Loading
Due to the large amount of data there may be a short wait.’
A short wait. I can wait. I know all about patience. It took me a long time to gain Ian White’s trust. He wasn’t about to give up his secrets to some bloke who’d walked in off the street and applied for a job as a loan collector. But I wheedled my way in. I kept my head down, I did what I was told and I didn’t ask questions. I studied the other men. I watched how they interacted with each other and with Ian. I noted what made him laugh and what pissed him off. He grinned when one of the others described the way he’d terrorised a family with young kids. I grinned too, when I really wanted to smash my fist into his skull. I acted impressed when he told me how many shops he had around the country. How it was easier to intimidate people in the south-east than the northwest. I called women stupid slags. I flirted with Paula, being careful not to cross the line. Paula was seeing Ian. If you pissed her off you pissed him off. My first breakthrough was when Ian invited me into the back office to do a line of coke with him.
Coke. I didn’t want that shit anywhere near me but I lowered my head to the desk and I snorted it back. Ian began to confide in me. He told me who he trusted and who he thought was a worthless twat. He let me count the day’s takings but he asked me to leave the room when he put it in the safe. One day he wasn’t quite so careful. We’d been to the pub. He’d forgotten to get some money out of the safe to give to his dealer and asked me to go back to the office with him. He wanted a bit of muscle at his side in case he ran into any disgruntled clients who wanted to give him a kicking. Did I mention how paranoid he was? Paranoid and a coke addict. It’s a dangerous combination. But he was pissed that night and he didn’t bother sending me out the front when he opened the safe. I saw the combination and memorised it. I also saw how much money was inside.
By that point I had enough on him to write my story and pass the evidence I’d gathered to the police. All I had to do was make sure no one was in the office when the police arrested him. My contact tipped me off. They’d be arresting him at 3 a.m. on Sunday. That way he’d be in bed, unprepared. I went to the office at 3 a.m. I lifted the spare set of keys from the back office on the Friday. I knew the alarm code. I knew the combination on the safe. I took ten grand. It was for Elise. For three months I’d worked evenings and weekends. I’d missed out on vital time with my little girl. The money was my way of making it up to her. I didn’t have a pot to piss in when I left school but she would. Her dad would make sure she never wanted for anything.
What I didn’t know was that Ian had installed covert CCTV in the back office. But Paula did.
Chapter 56
‘Sean?’ I tap on his bedroom door, praying that he’s in. He wasn’t at breakfast and, with it being a Saturday, there’s every chance he’s driven back to Dublin to spend the weekend with his parents and sisters.
‘Sean?’ I tap again, twice this time and louder.
I hear a thump, a loud ‘Feck!’ then the door opens.
‘Oh, it’s you.’ Sean, naked apart from a pair of navy boxer shorts, stares at me with bleary eyes then reaches down and rubs the big toe of his right foot. ‘
I banged it on the bloody skirting board. Skirting board, for God’s sake. It’s not like it wasn’t there when I went to bed last night.’ He straightens up and smiles. ‘Sorry. How can I help you, Helen?’
‘I’m so sorry to wake you up,’ I say. ‘But I … I need a favour. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’
‘No problem. I should be out running now but I overslept.’ He shivers and crosses his arms over his bare chest. ‘What is it you need?’
‘I don’t suppose you could take me to an Internet café in Drogheda, could you? I need to access my work email.’
‘You can use my laptop if you’d like. Work gave me a dongle so I can connect to the Internet. Just give me a second to get some clothes on.’
‘That would be great. Thanks so much, Sean.’
‘No problem.’
As he closes the door I go back into my room and join Elise on the bed. We watch TV for a couple of minutes but, as soon the credits roll, she loses interest and slides onto the floor.
‘Box! Mummy, box!’
She wanders up to the wardrobe, reaches up with both hands and makes a high-pitched whining sound.
‘What’s wrong with the little man?’ Sean asks from the doorway, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his laptop in his hands.
‘She’s crying because I won’t let her play with the box I put on top of the wardrobe.’
‘She?’ His confusion shows in his eyes. ‘Lee’s a girl?’
‘She’s always been a girl.’ I gesture for him to enter the bedroom. ‘Come in. I’ll explain everything.’
‘Jesus!’ Sean glances at Elise who has finally stopped crying and is sitting on the carpet, gawping at the TV. ‘Sorry.’ He lowers his voice. ‘Is your husband some kind of monster, Helen?’
‘Jo.’
‘Jo, of course.’ He looks incredulous and I can’t say I blame him after what I’ve just told him. I could have lied. I could have made up some stupid story about why I pretended that Elise was a boy, but I had to tell him the truth. I need to start trusting people. I can’t do this alone any more.
‘It makes sense now,’ Sean says, ‘why Elise kept saying her name was Lee, and the dolls and stuff.’
‘I tried to get her to say her name was Ben but she wouldn’t have it.’
‘No.’ He smiles. ‘I don’t imagine she would.’ His gaze switches to the wardrobe and Henry’s box and a plastic bag stuffed with money, perched on the top. ‘How much do you reckon is in there?’
‘Thousands and thousands.’
‘Jesus.’
‘I know.’
‘How did it get in there?’
‘I don’t know. But I think there might be an email that explains it.’
See for yourself, Jo.
It came to me this morning, while I was getting Elise washed and dressed. The email in my work inbox that was marked as spam. It had an attachment. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But now I’m convinced it’s something I need to open.
‘OK, well, here you go.’ Sean hands me his laptop. He waits as I log onto my work email and scroll down all the unread emails.
See for yourself, Jo.
The sender’s name is Fiona Spelling. Max’s boss. I double-click to open it. Please let it be important, please, please.
I scan the email then read it again.
Hello Jo
I don’t know if you’ll get this email but I felt I had to reach out to you. There’s something you need to know. Max lied about knowing Paula Readman. He lied to you. And he lied to me. Paula Readman was an employee of Cash Creditors, the loan shark ring your husband investigated. Max took something Paula believes belongs to her. He stole a large amount of money from the safe. We’ve accessed the voicemail messages Paula left him on his work phone, making threats to harm you and your child. Max deleted them but my tech guy managed to retrieve them.
I’m attaching an image taken from the CCTV so you know I’m telling the truth. Paula tried to extort money from me for the footage but I won’t be paying her a penny. I’ve passed everything on to the police. They’re looking for Max and Paula as I type this.
I don’t know why you decided to go on the run with your daughter and I can only imagine how scared you are, but I’m here if you need someone to talk to. You’ve already got my direct line.
Best wishes,
Fiona Spelling
‘Oh my God. Read this.’ I slide the laptop onto Sean’s knees then slump forwards and rest my head in my hands. I can’t take it in. Not only did Max try and paint me as an unfit mother, he did this too. He lied to my face about knowing Paula after she threatened me. He swore on Elise’s life. What kind of man steals thousands of pounds and knowingly puts his family at risk? He could have given it back to Paula. Instead he lied and lied and lied, and all the while the money was hidden in Henry’s memory box. Just the thought of him shovelling dirty banknotes over precious memories of his son makes me feel sick.
‘Have you seen this?’ Sean jabs a finger at the laptop screen.
And there he is, my husband, scooping wads of banknotes out of a safe, staring right up into the CCTV camera with a smile on his face.
‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ Sean says. ‘You’re safe. You don’t have to keep running. Everything’s going to be OK.’
Chapter 57
It was a victimless crime, Jo. That money was never going to be given back to the people Ian White ripped off. The government would have seized it. I just took a little bit off the top for my trouble, for Elise.
Nothing happened for a couple of weeks after I took it. I thought I’d got away with it but then my story was published in the newspaper and Paula realised who I was. That’s when she started ringing me. She left message after message on my work voicemail telling me that if I didn’t return the money she’d go after my family. I didn’t believe her. She’s a mouthy bitch but she’s not a thug. There’s no way she’d risk breaking a nail by attacking someone. Her muscle was gone – Ian and his cohorts were in jail – she was alone. I freaked out when I got your voicemail telling me you thought Elise had been taken. Until I ran through the front door I really believed that Paula had gone through with her threat. But she hadn’t been anywhere near Elise. The stunt she pulled, getting in the car with you and giving you Elise’s glove, that was bullshit, a weak attempt to unsettle me. She unsettled you though, didn’t she? Any sane mother would have attacked a stranger who threatened their kid. Or at the very least rung the police. Not you though, Jo. You scurried off and you let her think she had the upper hand. If you’d nipped it in the bud there and then Paula might have fucked off. But no. She upped her game. She turned up outside my work and told me about the CCTV. Not that I was worried. What was she going to do with it – show the police? My boss? She wouldn’t get her money if she did either of those things.
And then she turned up on our street and you pushed her. I almost had respect for you then, Jo. Almost.
I tried to help you. I did everything I could to support you after Henry died even thought I felt as if someone had ripped out my heart. I gave you space. I let you cry. I waited for your grief to subside so we could rebuild our lives. But nothing I said, nothing I did, made any difference. Do you have any idea how frustrating that was? To watch someone you love shrivel into themselves? I tried reasoning with you, encouraging you, cajoling you. I begged you to get help and, when you refused, I told you I’d leave you if you didn’t see a doctor. You hated me for saying that but that threat was a last resort. It was all I had left.
You seemed to get better after you started your medication and your CBT classes. You were less anxious, more hopeful about the future. You even let me touch you again, but the first time we had sex you got pregnant with Elise and it all went to shit again. You barely slept. You wouldn’t let her out of your sight and there was no way you were going to let her leave the house, even if she was with me. Do you have any idea how emasculating that felt? Your own wife not trusting you to look a
fter your daughter? I felt as though I was suffocating but still I didn’t leave you. I let you decide what Elise could and couldn’t do and I threw myself into my work because it was the one area of my life where I still felt in control.
How fucking naïve was I to think that you might be grateful? That you appreciated the sacrifices I’d made? That you loved me? Really fucking naïve as it turns out because all along you were secretly planning on leaving me. And you were going to take our daughter with you. AFTER EVERYTHING I DID FOR YOU. You KNEW how fucked up I was when my dad left me and how I swore I’d never do the same thing to my kids. And yet you still planned to take Elise away from me. You stupid, selfish, cold-hearted bitch.
I was so pleased when you told me you’d hit Paula. It meant you couldn’t report her to the police and they wouldn’t find out about the money. It also meant I could plant the drugs, safe in the knowledge you’d blame it on her. I wouldn’t be the bad guy any more. You’d turn to me for help and support. You’d tell me that you needed me to protect you and Elise. And you did feel like that, didn’t you, after you were arrested? But only for a night because the next day you fucked off back to your mum and dad’s. You used me, Jo. AGAIN. That’s when I realised I’d had enough of giving you second chances. Why not let Social Services see what an unfit mother you really were? All I had to do was make the house look like a shithole before Lorraine Hooper showed up. It was almost too easy.
And now I’ve tracked you down. It’s taken me the best part of two hours to go through all the different permutations of names and villages. The newspaper archive website was stupidly slow and my signal kept dropping out every couple of minutes, but that wasn’t going to stop me. All I had to do was drive around until I found a stronger signal and start again. It’s called perseverance, Jo. I never give up until I get what I’m after. You should know that by now.
And I’ve found him. I’ve found your daddy. Liam O’Brien – address: Ard na Mara, Main Road, Clogherhead. Husband to Brigid. Father to you.
