The Rumour

by Lesley Kara

  ‘Nice story, but it’s not true, is it?’ Marie says, her voice scornful. Anger has ground her features into sharp blades. She points a finger at Mum’s face. ‘Tell the truth, you murdering bitch!’

  Mum ignores her and looks directly at me. Marie might as well not be in the room, for all the attention Mum’s giving her. Everything she’s just said has been to me.

  ‘So why didn’t they believe you,’ I say, ‘when you told them what happened?’

  ‘Because Marie told the police I’d been horrible to Robbie all day, as if it was just me. But we’d all been moaning about him. She said I’d done it on purpose, that she’d come into the room and seen me lunge at him with the knife. I don’t know, maybe it was her guilt that made her say that. She was meant to be looking after him and she hadn’t. She’d run off laughing and squealing with all the others. She’d left him on his own. Maybe she wanted someone to blame so she wouldn’t be in trouble.’

  ‘Your mum’s always been a liar,’ Marie says, a low, growling menace in her voice. ‘A liar and a bully and a manipulator. Oh, she can turn the charm on when she wants to. Do the old “poor little abused child” act. But it’s all a load of rubbish. So what you’re going to do now, Sally, is tell her the truth. Tell her what really happened. I’d hate for something bad to happen to Alfie, I really would. He’s such a lovely little boy.’

  My chest heaves with sobs. I can barely speak for crying. ‘Where is he? What have you done with him?’

  ‘You’ll find out where he is when your mum tells the truth.’

  Mum stares at the floor and doesn’t speak. I watch her chest rise and stay risen. She’s holding her breath. I hold mine too. At last, she releases it. She raises her head and looks at the phone in Marie’s hand. Tears flow unchecked down her face and, even though a part of me hates her for keeping this secret for so many years, for lying to me day in, day out, for being the one who’s put us in this position in the first place simply by being who she is, I feel her pain almost as if it’s my own and I’m crying too.

  ‘There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think of Robbie. He haunts me. Every year that passes I try to picture what he’d look like now, what he might be doing if he was still alive. The life he might have led. Sometimes I see a little boy that looks like him and I can’t breathe.’ Her voice falters. ‘I can’t breathe.

  ‘Remorse isn’t a big enough word to describe what I feel. It doesn’t come close.’ Her breath judders as she speaks. ‘Sometimes I think about how things might have turned out differently. If I hadn’t gone out to play that day. If I hadn’t thought up the monster game. If that house had been flattened like all the others in the row. If it hadn’t somehow missed the wrecking ball. If I hadn’t been nosy enough to open that drawer and find the knife, bold enough to pick it up. A whole list of ifs. All the significant moments in our life hinge on choices made in the blink of an eye. Choices that define us for ever.’

  She hangs her head over her knees. When she finally sits up, she looks right into Marie’s eyes for perhaps the first time.

  ‘I know you want some kind of closure, Marie, and I’m sorry how your life turned out. I really am. I think of your mother every day too. The grief that destroyed her, that took away your childhood. You have to believe me.’

  Her hands are still, in her lap. Her spine is straight. ‘I know you think I’ve had a life I didn’t deserve to have. A beautiful daughter. A grandson. I know you think I should have been punished for what happened, but I swear to you, Marie, it was an accident. I should never have pinned him against the wall. He was a little boy and I was being a bully and that was wrong. Whatever happened to me at home, it was wrong of me to do that. I knew it then just as I know it now.

  ‘But if you think I haven’t been punished, you’re wrong.’ She taps the side of her head. ‘What goes on in here is my punishment. This is my life sentence and it never stops, Marie. It never stops. I was responsible for killing a little boy. Your beautiful brother. The uncle Karen never met. But I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t. If you want me to say it’s my fault he died, then I’ll say it. Because it’s true. It’s my fault your brother died. I was holding him by his neck against a wall and I had a knife in my hand. But I didn’t stab him on purpose, Marie. I wouldn’t. I didn’t. You have to believe me.’

  A hard lump gathers at the back of my throat. My cheeks are wet with tears. This is my mother. The veil she’s been wearing all her life has slipped – the one I didn’t even know was a veil – and here she is, raw and exposed. An open wound. She looks at me, eyes imploring me to understand, to forgive, and I want to, but I’m wounded too. I can’t respond. My muscles won’t work. My voice has gone.

  ‘I always knew you’d come for me one day.’ She turns her head to one side, addresses the wall. ‘I hated you for that. For never giving up the fight. But part of me admired you too. Admired your tenacity. I often think that, if our roles had been reversed, I might have done the same thing. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters, so I don’t know what it feels like to lose one. But I know what it’s like to have a daughter and a grandchild.’

  She turns to me now, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘And I’d willingly give up my freedom – give up my life – to save theirs.’

  She inhales slowly through her nose and exhales through her mouth, her lips rounded so it looks like she’s blowing the air out.

  ‘So if you want me to confess to something I didn’t do, so you can post your video on YouTube, or whatever it is you’re planning, then I’ll do it. I’ll do it willingly. If that’s what it takes for this to end now and for your family to move on, I’ll do it.’

  ‘This isn’t right, Marie,’ I say. ‘Whatever happens to my mother, it doesn’t change anything. Robbie’s dead. Nothing’s going to bring him back.’

  Marie sits in her chair, her face ashen in the half-light.

  ‘I promised my mother I’d make it my business to get justice for Robbie, to make her pay for what she did.’

  Mum turns to face the camera. Part of me wants to stop her, to shake her by the shoulders and tell her not to be so stupid. This lie she’s about to tell will be her undoing. Her face will be all over the internet in a matter of minutes and there’ll be nowhere for her to hide. She’s throwing her life away. But she’s doing it for me. And for Alfie. Telling lies to protect us. It’s what she’s always done, and I know I can’t stop her. Because the only thing that matters right now is Alfie, and getting him back. I know it and she knows it and this is the only way.

  Her voice, when it comes, is devoid of emotion. Flat. Empty. It reminds me of something I saw on the news as a child, a group of traumatized hostages telling their loved ones they were being well looked after when anyone could see they were in fear of their lives.

  ‘I, Sally Catherine McGowan, hereby confess to the intentional murder of Robbie Harris. It wasn’t an accident. I lied in court. I am the monster you all think I am.’

  She closes her eyes. ‘Now please, for the love of God, tell us where Alfie is.’

  52

  A noise from downstairs – a loud bang – makes us all flinch. It’s the front door being flung against the wall.

  ‘Mum? Are you in here?’

  Karen’s voice echoes through the house and my knees give way. I grab on to the wall for support. Thank God! Karen will talk her mother round. She’ll make her tell us what she’s done with Alfie. She has to.

  Marie drags her chair nearer the window and tries to scrabble up on to the windowsill. But as she does, she drops the phone. It skitters across the floor. Mum and I both make a grab for it at the same time, but Mum gets there first.

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Marie screams, knocking the chair over in her haste to get the phone back. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Don’t delete it, Mum. Not until she tells us where he is.’

  Mum holds the phone aloft so Marie can’t grab it back. The three of us just stand there, facing each other. A tableau of figures, frozen
in shocked anticipation.

  Then Marie rights the chair, clambers back on to it and somehow manages to manoeuvre herself on to the sill. For one terrible moment I think she’s going to reel backwards into the glass and fall to her death before she’s told me where Alfie is.

  ‘No!’ I scream. ‘Don’t do it!’

  Feet pound up the first staircase below. ‘Mum! What are you doing?’

  ‘We’re up here!’ I shout. ‘I think she’s going to jump!’

  The stairs up to the attic room groan under the weight of feet. Is someone else with her?

  When I see not just Karen appear in the doorway but Michael too, their faces etched with dread, it’s as much as I can do not to break down and weep.

  ‘She’s got Alfie. She won’t tell us where he is!’ The words spill out of me. An alien twang that reverberates in the cold air of the room.

  Michael edges in, his eyes trained on Marie.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he says. ‘Alfie’s safe.’

  Mum’s eyes meet mine. Did we hear right? Did he say Alfie’s safe?

  Tears are streaming down Karen’s face. Her eyes dart from Marie to Mum and then to me. ‘He’s with Kay,’ she says. ‘I took him to Kay’s before I drove to the hospital.’

  Instinctively, I fall into Mum’s arms and we cling to each other, sobbing in relief. Alfie is safe. He was never in danger. Marie tricked us. Then I hear Mum gasp, feel the change in her muscle tone and turn to see Marie opening the window. The steady grumble of the sea enters the room and, with it, a blast of cold, wet air.

  Michael rushes towards her.

  ‘Stay back or I’ll jump,’ she says, her hands gripping the rotten window frame.

  ‘No!’ Karen shrieks. ‘Mum, please!’

  ‘Marie, don’t do this.’ Michael’s voice is soft and calm. ‘Come down from there and let’s talk.’

  ‘Talk? What’s there to talk about? I’ve ruined my last chance of getting justice for Robbie. There’s nothing left for me. I’m dying anyway.’

  ‘But your daughter!’ cries Mum. ‘Your granddaughter. They need you, Marie. Don’t do this to them.’ Mum’s face is stained with tears, her voice tight with emotion.

  Karen is weeping now. ‘Oh, Mum! I thought you’d finally come to terms with what happened, that you wanted to spend what time you’ve got left with me and Hayley. We were going to do nice things together, remember? Lay down some memories for her. Good memories. Why spoil all that for the sake of this … this obsession with McGowan. Vengeance solves nothing. It won’t bring Robbie back.’

  Marie twists her face in disgust. ‘You’ve never understood. Always going on about coming to terms with the past. You really have no idea.’

  ‘Marie, please!’ Mum cries. She clasps her hands together and sways in silent pain. ‘It was an accident. A terrible, tragic accident. What do I have to do to make you believe me?’

  Marie shuffles her bottom even further back on the sill. Her eyes are wild. The wind catches her wispy hair and lifts it clear of her scalp.

  Michael moves closer.

  ‘No!’ Karen screams. ‘Don’t you see what she’ll do? She’s going to tip herself backwards if you go anywhere near her.’

  ‘Come on, Marie,’ Michael says. ‘You don’t have to do this. Is this the last thing you want your daughter to see you doing?’

  Marie turns to Karen. ‘She confessed. I recorded it.’ She glares at Mum. ‘You might have got away with it again, but I heard you confess. And so did your daughter. You murdered my little brother.’

  ‘A forced confession,’ Mum says. ‘It would never have stood up in court. You know it wouldn’t.’

  Tears roll slowly down Marie’s cheeks. ‘That wouldn’t have mattered. Your life would have been over once it was on the internet and people knew your face.’

  Suddenly, her features change. She’s tensing up. Oh God! She’s really going to do it. She’s going to tip herself backwards.

  ‘Don’t do this, Marie,’ I plead. ‘I know you’ve suffered, but this isn’t the way.’

  But Marie isn’t listening. She’s staring at Mum, her knuckles white as they grip the windowsill. Her eyes narrow. Her teeth bite down on her lower lip. I sense the tension in her upper body, watch her rock slowly backwards and forwards, an almost imperceptible movement, her right foot flexing in mid-air. And in that split second I know what she’s going to do. She’s not going to tip herself backwards. She’s going to use every last ounce of her strength to launch herself forwards. She’s going to jump off the windowsill and hurl herself at Mum, shove her into the void of the staircase.

  I think of the broken floorboards at the foot of the stairs, see them splinter and collapse under the weight of her, my mother’s body plummeting like a stone through the rotting plaster of the ceiling below and landing on the concrete floor of the kitchen.

  No one could survive a fall like that.

  I try to warn her, to scream at her to get away from the doorway, but it’s as if I’ve been paralysed, my tongue welded to the roof of my mouth. Can’t any of them see what’s going to happen?

  As Marie pushes herself clear of the windowsill, I know what I have to do. Whatever lies Mum told, whatever secrets she withheld, my life with her was real, wasn’t it? The things we did together, the things she taught me. The love that’s enveloped me all my life like a blanket, keeping me warm and safe. Wherever she came from, whatever happened in her past, she’s still my mother and she doesn’t deserve to die like this because of one terrible mistake she made as a child.

  Marie is a ball of compressed rage, just like her little brother must have been when he charged at Mum all those years ago, incensed at being held against the wall, overcome by a surge of adrenaline and white-hot fury at the injustice of it. Unless I can cross the room and push Mum out of the way, it’ll be too late.

  Marie’s feet touch the floor and time, which has stretched like elastic, snaps back into place and I’m throwing myself across the room at a right angle to her moving body, hitting Mum side-on just in time and pushing her clear of the doorway. She staggers under my weight and the two of us stumble headlong into the eaves and crash on to the floor in a tangled heap of arms and legs. Something clicks at the front of my shoulder and a splinter of pain shoots up my arm and across my chest. Then I hear another crack, but this time it’s the sound of timber splitting.

  The pain in my shoulder intensifies. My fingers land on something sharp and wet. Sweat pours from my forehead. My collarbone has not only fractured, it’s protruding through the flesh. My chest heaves and pain skewers me to the floor. My vision narrows to a pinprick, then fades to black.

  The last thing I hear is a piercing scream and a sickening thud.

  53

  ‘Joey, can you hear me?’

  Michael’s voice is soft in my ear. He’s holding my hand. ‘The doc says you’ll be good as new in a couple of months, although it might take a couple more to regain full strength in your shoulder. They had to pin it.’

  I open my eyes and blink in the bright light.

  ‘Where is he? Where’s Alfie?’

  ‘Alfie’s fine. Kay’s just taken him to buy a comic at the hospital shop. They’ll be back any minute.’ He strokes my cheek. ‘He slept in her spare room last night. I popped in to see him while you were in theatre and he was fast asleep, clutching a soft giraffe called – wait for it – Long-neckie Boy.’

  Relief floods my veins like a drug. It’s better than any painkiller they could have given me.

  ‘What’s happened to Marie?’

  He shakes his head. ‘When you pushed your mum out of the way there was nothing to break her forward momentum.’ He winces at the memory. ‘She went headlong down that staircase and straight through the floorboards. They were completely rotten – they couldn’t take her weight as she landed.’ He pauses. ‘You saved your mum’s life, Joey.’

  I close my eyes, but all I can see behind them is Marie’s body sprawled on the floor like a broken doll, her limb
s sticking out at weird angles, dark crimson blood seeping out of her ears and into her hair. In saving Mum’s life, I made Karen’s mum lose hers.

  ‘Your mother and I had a hell of a job, what with making sure you were all right and trying to stop Karen charging downstairs to get to Marie. That place is a deathtrap – she could have fallen through too. She only stopped trying when your mum’s handler arrived and told her there was nothing anyone could do to help her. She must have died on impact.’ He sighs. ‘I suppose that’s some consolation for poor Karen.’

  ‘But … but how did Mum’s handler know where we were?’

  ‘Apparently, she’d speed-dialled him while you two were downstairs. There’s a tracking device on her phone. She knew he’d be able to find her there. Nice guy, actually. His name’s Brian.’

  I can’t get my head round my own mother needing a handler. It’s beyond belief.

  ‘As soon as I got to the hospital and realized Alfie wasn’t there, I started to panic. Then Karen said it was okay because she’d left him with Kay. She thought that would be better than leaving him with her sick mum, so when I told her I’d been to her flat and couldn’t get any answer she started to worry that something bad had happened to her. She’d left her phone behind in the rush to take Hayley to A&E, so she tried ringing her mum on mine but there was no reply. Then I tried calling you, and when I couldn’t get hold of you on your mobile I tried your mum’s landline and couldn’t get an answer there either.

  ‘Something twigged in my brain then and I knew something was wrong. I asked Karen what her mother’s name was and when she told me it was Marie my blood ran cold. I asked her a few questions and my worst suspicions were confirmed. I knew she was Robbie’s sister.’

  He runs his hands through his hair and puffs out his cheeks. ‘I didn’t want to endanger you both by telling Karen who you were, but when I said I thought you and your mum might be in danger, she guessed. She guessed right away, Joey. It was Karen who first told her mum about the rumour.’