‘What were the couple like?’ I said.
‘I couldn’t say. I tried to be friendly, but they weren’t interested, so I gave up trying in the end. I used to see their little one going off to school some days, but even she kept herself to herself – the apple never falls far from the tree, as they say.’
‘What happened to her?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. Are you sure you won’t have a cup of tea?’
‘I really shouldn’t, but OK,’ I said, feeling she liked having visitors.
‘I’ll get my photo albums,’ she said, and I knew the subject of David and Janet Green was closed.
I sat for half an hour thumbing through photos of people I didn’t know, learning all about Alice’s family history, before making my exit.
A black saloon was parked in a lay-by some distance away, facing away from me, and I cautioned my paranoid self. Told her there were thousands of black cars on the road, that I hadn’t even seen the make of the one that had bamboozled me off the road the day before. But then I saw it – the round yellow sticker in the back window. I couldn’t see what it said, but there was no doubting it was the same car.
I raced across the road, fumbling with my keys, dropping them on the road as I faffed and flicked glances at the vehicle. Someone was sitting in the driver’s seat, and part of me wanted to rush over – find out who’d caused me to career off the road. But my sensible side won. I got into my car, started my engine, and raced away.
‘Crap!’ I said, as I turned the corner. I hadn’t noted the number plate.
***
Once I was back at the bed and breakfast, relieved that the black car hadn’t followed me this time, Grace FaceTimed.
‘Are you having a good time, my little cuppy cake?’ I said, her little face helping me to get things into perspective. I missed her so much.
‘It’s brilliant, Mummy,’ she said, eyes glowing. ‘Amaze balls.’
I laughed. ‘I’ve never heard you say that before.’
‘Farrah says it,’ she said, her smile dimpling her cheeks.
I felt a prick behind my eyes. When? When did Farrah say it?
‘I hope Daddy’s spoiling you,’ I said.
She nodded, and giggled. ‘Beauty from Beauty and the Beast hugged me. Can you believe it? And I’ve got some Mickey Mouse ears. It’s just so brilliant.’
And then the words fell out of my mouth. ‘It must be nice being with just Daddy.’
She didn’t seem to get I was fishing to find out if Farrah was with them. She just shrugged. ‘I’d like it bestest if you were here too, Mummy.’ Her voice cracked, losing its sparkle, and there was a blur on the screen, and Lawrence’s voice saying, ‘It’s OK, chipmunk,’ before his grumpy face appeared in front of me.
‘What was that about?’ he said, his tone sharp.
‘What?’
‘You’ve upset her, Rachel.’
‘Oh God, I didn’t mean to. Put her back on, please.’
‘No, we’re heading for a swim. We’ll call you tomorrow.’
And then he was gone – and so was Grace.
I refused to cry, and bit down hard on my bottom lip, tasting blood, as I ploughed through my contacts, pressing Zoe’s number.
‘Can you talk?’ I said, with a sniff, when she picked up.
‘It’s not easy; I’m in the middle of a manicure. You OK, lovely?’ If she was sick of me bugging her, she certainly didn’t let on. ‘You sound a bit …’
‘It’s Lawrence …’
‘Ah, say no more. We all know he’s a dick, and not a very big one.’
I laughed. ‘Thanks, Zoe – although I’m not sure how you know.’
She laughed. ‘Listen, I really can’t talk right now. We’ll catch up at the weekend, Rach. You can tell me everything then. Keep strong, and please take no notice of Lawrence.’
‘You’re right. He’s not worth it.’
‘Exactly.’
Once she’d rung off, I jumped to my feet, and began throwing clothes into my holdall. But it was no good. I had unfinished business in Sligo, and I knew, despite my instincts telling me otherwise, I would venture out again.
Chapter 32
October 1990
A month had gone by since Laura had seen Dillon and Imogen in the boat. A month since she’d heard that splash in the lake.
Recurring nightmares had haunted her sleep: Tierney’s corpse at the bottom of the water, seaweed spiralling his body like a death robe, lake crustaceans feeding on his flesh. Each time, Laura woke hot and sweating, telling herself she was right not to report it. That he’d been a cruel man. Imogen and the children were safe now. He’d deserved to die.
She hadn’t put the house on the market, like she’d promised herself she would. Dillon needed her. She couldn’t abandon him. But it was more than that. It was the fear of starting somewhere new.
Rachel spooned in her cereal, darting looks at Laura.
‘Is that nice?’ Laura asked, but there was no response. She wished the child would talk more – jabber like Caitlin. But some days she was saying less than before, and becoming increasingly lost in her own world. It wouldn’t be long before she started nursery school. Would it bring her out of herself, or make her worse? What if she got branded the spiteful girl mothers told their little ones to avoid? Perhaps she could home-school the child.
Rachel pushed her bowl away, slipped down from the chair, and headed into the lounge, where Laura knew she would sit at the table and draw for hours. She’d inherited Laura’s talent, and her pictures were amazing for a three-year-old. Perhaps art would be Rachel’s saviour, as it had been hers.
Once her daughter had disappeared, Laura pressed play on her tape recorder, and as Kate Bush sang from the speakers, she lit joss sticks, breathing them in, in an attempt to capture her younger self. Times she’d spent with Jude. She swayed to and fro to the music as she collected up china bowls and cups, losing herself as she twirled across the kitchen, before dropping the china into frothy water.
As she washed up, she looked out at the road, lost in thought – her mind somewhere else entirely. Suddenly a face appeared at the window, startling her.
‘Christ!’ she cried, holding her chest, her bubble-covered hands soaking her kaftan. ‘Marcus, you scared me,’ she added, as a child’s grinning face appeared too. ‘Yolanda.’ She hadn’t seen them since that day in the village – the one and only time she’d taken Rachel to toddler group.
She dried her hands and opened the front door. ‘What brings you here?’ she said, hoping they wouldn’t want to come in.
‘We were just passing,’ Yolanda said, ‘and thought we’d say hello.’ She was precocious, dressed in a pink dress with embroidered flowers, and pink tights, her hair scooped into a high ponytail, a chunky, cream cardigan over the whole ensemble.
Marcus shrugged, and after an awkward silence, Laura opened the door wider and gestured for them to enter.
‘Would you like a drink?’ she said, as they followed her into the kitchen, Marcus carrying a plastic carrier bag.
‘Yes please. Have you anything fizzy?’ Yolanda asked.
‘Think of your teeth, Yolly,’ Marcus cautioned, and gave Laura a sheepish look as he sat down.
‘I haven’t got any pop, I’m afraid,’ Laura said. ‘I’m trying a no-sugar regime with Rachel.’ She’d tried changing her daughter’s diet so many times.
‘Is Rachel your little girl?’ Yolanda asked, plonking herself down at the table opposite her father.
Laura nodded. ‘She’s in the lounge, go and see her if you like.’
‘OK.’ The child jumped up and skipped through.
‘Cup of tea?’ Laura asked, meeting Marcus’s eye.
‘Love one.’ He slipped off his checked jacket with leather elbows, and dropped it over the back of a chair. ‘I hope you don’t mind us popping in.’
Laura didn’t reply. She did mind. Marcus and his daughter were the last people she wanted as friends. Her parents ki
lled his wife, for God’s sake.
She filled the kettle, flicked it on, and snuffed out Kate Bush mid-song. ‘I’m afraid I’m going out shortly,’ she said in her best assertive voice.
‘That’s fine. We won’t stay long. We were just out walking. Went to the garden centre.’ He pulled a gnome from the carrier bag he’d brought in. ‘What do you think?’ he continued, holding it up for inspection.
‘It’s cute, I suppose.’
‘Yes,’ he said, shoving it back into the bag. ‘Yes it is. I think Jacqueline would have liked it.’
‘So how are you and Yolanda?’ Laura said, deciding to ignore his reference to his dead wife.
‘It’s hard, of course,’ he said, now fiddling with the salt pot. ‘Yolanda seems to be handling it better than I am.’ He unscrewed the lid and poured a little heap of salt onto the table, not looking up. ‘I get so lonely.’
Laura poured hot water over teabags in mugs, controlling an urge to snatch the salt pot. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve never lost anyone I love, the way you loved your wife, but I can imagine how difficult it must be.’
‘You lost your parents,’ he said, as she walked towards him and handed over one of the mugs, taking the salt pot from him.
She sat down and took a slow sip of her drink. ‘We were never close,’ she said. ‘I wish we had been. I’m left with a void inside that I’m not sure I’ll ever fill.’
He placed his hand over hers. ‘I’m so sorry, Laura,’ he said.
She looked down at his hand. It felt warm and soothing, and she could tell by the look in his eyes he needed comforting too. But the last thing she needed was a relationship with a man she barely knew – one with the complication that they shared a painful past. No, there would only ever be one man for her.
But before she could pull her hand away, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.
‘Daddy?’
He leapt to his feet, as they both stared at Yolanda framed in the doorway. She was holding Laura’s latest canvas – a study of Lough End Farm. ‘What about Mummy?’ she said, tears filling her eyes. ‘Do you still love Mummy?’
‘Of course, darling,’ he said, entwining his fingers and pressing them down on his head, turning on the spot like a schoolboy caught breaking a window.
‘But you kissed Laura. I just saw you.’
‘It was nothing, Yolly, nothing at all,’ he said. ‘Laura got the wrong idea, that’s all.’
Laura glared at him. ‘I think you should leave,’ she said, rising. ‘Now!’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘Of course, yes.’
Yolanda raced to her father and hugged his waist. She held out the painting towards Laura. There were thick blobs of black paint in the pale blue sky of Laura’s latest artwork.
‘Who did this?’ Laura whispered, taking it from her, her eyes flicking over the ruined picture. She put it down on the table, her head spinning, and stared at the child.
‘It was Rachel,’ Yolanda said. ‘She took a brush and blobbed black paint all over it.’
‘We should go,’ Marcus said, his normally pale cheeks flushed as they hurried towards the door.
‘Don’t come back, Marcus – ever,’ she said, as they closed the door behind them.
Laura picked up the picture and headed into the lounge where Rachel sat at the table drawing. She perched down beside her daughter, and laid the painting on the table. ‘Did you do this?’ she said.
Rachel continued to draw.
‘I asked you a question, Rachel. Did you do this?’ She felt bubbles of anger rise. She’d spent so long on the picture. But it wasn’t only that, it was Marcus – the way he’d humiliated her. ‘Rachel!’ she snapped, startling the child who looked up at her. ‘Did you do this?’
‘Yes,’ she said nodding. ‘You made it look too happy.’
‘Too happy?’
Rachel bent her head down and continued drawing, and Laura stared, wondering if she would ever understand her daughter.
After a while, Rachel looked at the painting. She reached out her hand, and touched the black clouds, coating her small fingers with wet paint. ‘Can I keep it?’ she said.
Laura nodded. ‘If you want,’ she said, defeated. ‘I’ll paint a new one.’
***
Later, Laura and Dillon sat by the lake. Rachel was asleep in her buggy, and Bridie was showing Caitlin the fishes swimming under the water.
The ground was covered in leaves of every colour, and the sun was about to set on the far side of the water. There was no doubting its beauty, but it was tarnished for Laura by thoughts of Tierney lying at the bottom of the lake.
She hadn’t seen Imogen since that awful night, despite Dillon saying she would come round. Laura was relieved, but often wondered if Imogen and her unborn child were OK.
‘Do you like the fishes?’ Bridie asked tucking her hair behind her ears.
‘They’re amazing,’ Caitlin said, giggling and bouncing from foot to foot. ‘All wiggly.’
Dillon cast a brotherly eye over the girls as they played. It was the first time they’d been out without Imogen – the first time Dillon was caring for them alone. It was reassuring to see them happy, and Laura consoled herself again that she’d been right not to report what she’d seen.
‘How’s Imogen?’ she asked.
‘Cries a lot.’ Dillon dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘Shuts herself away most of the time, and I get the girls their dinner, because she won’t eat. She’s so skinny, you’d never guess she’s having a baby.’
‘Do you think she’d let me visit?’ Truth was, Laura didn’t want to go near the woman, but she didn’t like to think of her in such a state. ‘She helped me when I was at my lowest,’ she said. ‘I owe her.’
He shrugged. ‘I dunno, she acts odd all the time.’ He paused. ‘She’s like she was when she first came to live with us.’
‘When Bridie was a baby?’
He nodded. ‘My real ma said I had to be nice to her because she’d been through so much, but I thought she was a bit weird. You can tell a lot from eyes – like yours are blue, with specks of yellow like sunshine, but hers were dead, nothing going on behind them. I tended to keep out of her way in the beginning.’
Laura rubbed his back gently, as he continued to stumble over his words.
‘She was troubled, Ma said, and we had to be patient with her. But it was as though something bad was in Imogen’s head – I can’t explain it. Later, after Ma left, she seemed OK. Started to care more for Bridie and me. But now, since Da left …’ He shook his head, eyes shimmering with tears. ‘Maybe it’s just me. Perhaps I can’t cope with what’s happened to me da.’
Laura placed her hand on his and squeezed. ‘What happened to him, Dillon?’
He stared out at the lake, as though deliberating what to say.
‘Dillon!’ Caitlin squealed, jumping onto him and grabbing him round his neck. ‘Have you seen the fishes?’
‘Fishes!’ Rachel was awake, wiggling in her buggy. ‘Fishes!’
Laura lifted her out, and placed her on the ground. And the little girl trotted towards the edge of the water where Bridie stood.
‘Have you seen the fishes, Rachel?’ Caitlin said, scrambling off Dillon’s lap and heading towards the other girls.
‘Caitlin,’ Bridie said. ‘Look at this big fish.’
Rachel went to walk towards her.
‘Not you, Rachel,’ Bridie said, putting up her hand like a miniature policeman. ‘I want to show Caitlin first.’
Rachel clenched her fists, screwed up her face, and kicked Caitlin hard in the shin, and the little girl dropped to the ground crying, holding her leg.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’ Laura cried, as Rachel ran off into the wood.
‘I’ll get her,’ Dillon said, leaping to his feet, as Laura picked up Caitlin, and held her until she stopped crying.
‘She’s not very nice, is she?’ Bridie said.
‘No, no she’s not,
’ Laura said, as Dillon appeared once more, Rachel in his arms.
Half an hour later, the children had settled down, and were playing together as though nothing had happened, and Dillon had lain down on the dry earth and closed his eyes.
‘Let’s go to your house,’ Laura said impulsively, rising. ‘I’ll talk to Imogen; try to find out what’s troubling her. See if I can help.’
Dillon jumped to his feet, and grabbed his stick from where he’d propped it against a tree, and Laura noticed the end was stained red. Was it Tierney’s blood?
‘I’m not sure Imogen will like it if you just turn up,’ he said, lifting Rachel into his arms.
‘Well, we won’t know if we don’t try,’ she said, beating down the sick feeling that his stick could have been used to bludgeon Tierney to death.
They walked the length of the wood: Rachel perched on Dillon’s hip, Bridie and Caitlin walking along beside him, and Laura a few steps behind.
‘I’m not sure this is such a good idea,’ Dillon said, as they got closer. ‘What if it makes her worse?’
‘Well, why don’t you go in and tell her I’m here?’ Laura said, as they reached the edge of the wood. ‘If she wants to see me, I’ll come. If not, I’ll leave her be.’
‘OK,’ he said, putting Rachel down, and dashing away with his sisters.
Laura waited with her daughter at the edge of the wood, watching as they disappeared inside – the door closing behind them.
Within moments the door shot open again, and Dillon raced towards her, his sisters appearing on the doorstep crying.
‘Laura,’ he yelled. ‘Laura! Come quick. The blood. Oh my God, hurry. Please!’
Chapter 33
February 2018
The following day, I grabbed a pack of sandwiches from a local shop, and ate them in the car, looking out at the sea at Rosses Point.
Tell the Truth Page 17
