“You know I always thought there was something,” Charlotte ventured. “Something you weren’t telling me.” She shook her head.
Kathy looked at Ruth, accusingly. “And all during the investigation, I thought you never mentioned the whole business of tossing the coin and leaving Sarah on her own because you wanted to cover for me.” Her eyes burned.
What could Ruth say? That part was true. Not that Kath would believe her now. The public opprobrium had been hard enough, without singling Kathy out for any further vilification.
“I did want to cover for you in a way.” Ruth knew that saying it now, sounded weak and lame. “What difference would telling anyone have made to the investigation? In a way, I’m glad you never mentioned it. It was an omission, not a cover up. It had no bearing on the investigation. Christ! It was bad enough the way they painted us in the media. That constant whiff of suspicion. Telling them about the toss would only have compounded matters. Can you honestly imagine if you’d actually told them the truth? If Mrs Nugent ever suspected that Sarah took your place? What do you think the media would have done to you then? But I shouldn’t have kept the truth from you. For that I’m sorry. I truly am.”
Kathy’s eyes were fixed on Ruth, searing right through her. Charlotte was shifting in her seat, looking from one to the other.
“For God’s sake, Ruth!” Kathy exploded now. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? Knowing that one little thing would have made such a difference. We didn’t need to tell anyone, but you could have told me. No one denies my life was going off the rails at the time. But Christ almighty, that really didn’t help. I really could have done without that. All these years of waking up in the middle of night seeing Sarah, raped, tortured, left to rot. Imagining all the things that could have happened to her – knowing it should have been me. Do you know what that feels like? Well, do you?”
“Of course I bloody do!” Ruth felt under siege. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you. From where I stood, it should have been me! I was the one who lied and cheated. Whatever happened to Sarah, it should have happened to me.” Without warning, Ruth felt tears trickling down her face. It was all too much. She’d lost control.
Hot tears slid down her cheeks, running into the hollow of her neck. Ruth couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. It felt unfamiliar and strangely cathartic. Ruth was always in control. Here she was, a grown woman, weeping in public. The guilt and regret in a calcified knot inside her, melted away in a deluge of salty tears.
“It’s okay, Ruth,” said Charlotte patting her hand.
She’s never seen me cry in all the time she’s known me. No wonder she looks bewildered, thought Ruth.
“But it’s not okay,” she sniffed. “It wasn’t okay back then and it’s not okay now. I know you had a hard time, Kathy. But life hasn’t been a walk in the park for me either.”
Kathy’s expression softened.
Ruth took heart. “Things were never the same afterwards,” she began. “Not back in my hometown. You know only too well what small towns are like, Kath. They were all talking about me. There she goes, look at her, the one who left her friend alone. It was a sheer bloody relief to get to England. It upset my parents terribly that I rarely came home, their only child,” she paused, “but I just couldn’t face the snide comments and the looks. They have long memories, I can tell you.” The lump in her throat was getting bigger. “Someone pour me another glass of wine?”
Charlotte lifted the empty bottle from the ice-bucket.
“Oops, I had the last glass,” said Kathy.
“Thought you’d given up?” said Charlotte.
“You don’t expect me to go through this with a glass of diet coke, do you?” she replied.
Charlotte signaled the waiter for the wine to be replenished.
“I’m really sorry to hear all this, Ruth. You’re here in Ireland now,” said Charlotte. “You could always go and see your parents while you’re here.” She was trying to be helpful.
A wave of sadness rolled over Ruth. That time had been and gone.
“I don’t think so, Charlotte. Mum has Alzheimer’s. She’s in a nursing home. From what the nursing staff are saying, I doubt she’ll even know me next time I visit.” Ruth shook her head. “As for Dad, he passed away three years ago. It hardly matters if I visit anymore.” Ruth was drained. She’d never spoken as frankly.
“I’m very sorry about that, Ruth.” Charlotte was apologetic. “I’d have come to the funeral, if I’d known. I’d have been there.”
“Don’t worry, Charlie. It’s not your fault. No one from university came, I never contacted anyone.”
* * *
Their main courses had arrived and all three made an attempt to eat, if only to reflect on what they’d heard.
Then Ruth suddenly froze, as she was raising a fork to her mouth.
“Jesus!” she said it quietly, under her breath. “That’s it – the St Christopher’s medal. Ruth stared at Charlotte. “Richard said this guy – our creepy handyman – he knew about the St Christopher’s medal. But if this guy knows about tossing the medal, there was only one person who could have told him.”
Charlotte was looking at her strangely. Kathy too had stopped mid-forkful. Did Ruth have to spell it out for them? “That can only mean…” Ruth’s heart skipped a beat, “that Sarah told him.” Carrots flew across the table as Ruth waved her fork. “Oh, this scum-bag’s in the frame alright. Only Sarah could have told him about the toss.”
“I thought that too,” said Kathy. Then she swallowed. “That someone out there knew about the medal, how I had taken Sarah’s place. And only Sarah could have told them that.” She moved her fork around the plate. “I was so freaked out when you mentioned the medal that time you rang me, Charlie. I’d been feeling so guilty. But there’s also something else.” Kathy put down her fork.
The table fell silent.
“What?” asked Ruth.
“Before we split up, I gave Sarah the medal. I put Lawrence’s St Christopher’s medal around her neck to keep her safe. I remember it vividly. Sarah rearranging her black and white scarf and her crazy permed hair, so that I could tie the clasp for her.” Kathy shook her head. “That medal was nothing but a curse,” she said slowly.
Ruth turned to look at Charlotte who was looking drawn from all these revelations.
“What does Richard say, Charlie?” asked Ruth. “He must know more than he’s pretending. Does he think that this weirdo is the guy?”
Charlotte didn’t answer, as if she were mulling it over.
“Anyway surely the police interviewed Nathan Queally at the time?” Ruth continued with her questioning. “How come he didn’t arouse more suspicion then? Did the police miss something?”
“I don’t know the ins and outs of it,” Charlotte answered, after some consideration. “I believe that they did interview him at the time. And they searched the cabin he was working on. But they didn’t know about his army history at the time. The police interviewed so many people, the staff in the pub, the shop, anyone cars that had stopped on the road…” Charlotte trailed off, looking troubled.
“And they interviewed the most obvious suspects,” Ruth said. She’d long harbored a suspicion as to who was responsible for Sarah’s disappearance.
Two heads turned to stare at her.
“I know who you mean,” Kathy joined in. “You took a set against them from the start. It’s those guys from the north of Ireland, isn’t it? You never liked them.”
“No, I didn’t,” Ruth confirmed. “They passed us by on the road that day. They knew where the cabin was. They could have been watching us. Looking out for us. There was more than caving going on with those guys, I’m sure of it. They were up to something. What about the munitions they found when they were dragging the lake? Who did those belong to?”
“You think that Sarah may have stumbled on to something? That’s what happened?” Kathy asked. Clearly Kathy didn’t think so.
“Maybe,” said Ruth, “They sure were menacing.”
“I don’t know, Ruth,” said Kathy. “This Nathan Queally, is the guy we should be concentrating on. And okay, maybe there isn’t enough evidence to detain him at the moment, but if it isn’t him, I’ve a feeling that he must know who it is. He must know something if he had to lodge a bail-bond, right?”
“Ladies,” interrupted the head-waiter. “Can I suggest that you enjoy your coffee in the bar? We’re about to clear the tables.” He obviously thought there’d been enough dining-room drama for one evening. Their loud voices would be better suited to the noisy bar.
“Of course,” said Ruth. “Let’s go, girls. Coffee in the bar.” Ruth was happy to take the hint.
“An Irish coffee for me,” said Kathy. “I think I need it.”
An hour later, Ruth left the bar. Charlotte and Kathy wanted to chat some more. But Ruth had had enough drama for one day. She was exhausted and also relieved. Relieved, that she’d faced down her own part in this long-running nightmare. It wasn’t over yet. In a way, it was all just beginning. Tomorrow was going to be torture. For now all Ruth wanted to do was sleep. She wanted sleep to wash over her like warm comforting water. She was tired to the bone.
Kathy was wrong about those guys from the north of Ireland. They were involved somehow. Ruth was confident that after tomorrow, her suspicions would be proven right. The police may well have interviewed those guys at the time, but she felt sure they were involved somehow. It wasn’t as if the police at the time had been the cleverest bunch.
Science too had moved on – forensics in particular. There were procedures available today that weren’t around twenty-five years ago. Advances in DNA profiling and such-like.
Ruth needed sleep. The thoughts of tomorrow, of being in the same room as the person who made Sarah disappear was too disturbing to think about.
Kathy
Present Day
She could vaguely make out the muffled sound of her mobile ringing. Where the hell was that thing? It had to be here somewhere among the sheets and the cushions and the bed-cover and the fancy coverlet. What was it doing buried under the bedclothes?
Kathy crawled out of the huge hotel bed and shook the sheets to dislodge it from its hiding place. An object suddenly went flying across the room and smacked loudly against the wall. Oh shit, she hoped it wasn’t broken. No, no, it was still valiantly ringing away. She looked at the caller ID. Uh oh, trouble. Andrew.
“Hello…?”
“What the bloody hell are you playing at, Kathy?”
So he knew Emma was at his parents. It had taken longer than she’d expected. Her head began to throb. “Good morning to you, too. What’s the problem?”
“You know bloody well what the problem is, where the fucking hell are you anyway?” He was mad. He only ever used the F word when he was really mad. Good. She hoped he was.
“I’m in Adare. Like I told your parents. It was only for a night, Andrew. Don’t have a stroke. I’ll be back later today.”
She rummaged around looking for the stash of painkillers she normally kept in her toilet bag.
“Adare? In County Limerick? What are you doing there?”
“Visiting old friends from college – like I told your parents.”
“You don’t exactly have a reputation for honesty, Kathy. And to be frank, you sound rather the worse for wear. You’re not on another bender are you?”
She stuck out a furry tongue at the phone. “No, Andrew, I’m not. This line of questioning is really quite tedious.”
His voice went up another octave. “I’ll tell you what’s tedious, my dear. Texting your eight-year-old daughter in the early hours of the morning, telling her how much you love her. Fifteen messages in the space of an hour. I’ve had a look at her phone. Christ, Kathy, who’s the child and who’s the adult here?!”
Kathy hung up, not inclined to listen to more.
Shit!
So, that’s why the phone had been in the middle of the bed. She’d been texting Emma. The one person in the world who truly loved her. Probably not a good idea in hindsight. She’d stayed longer in the bar than she intended.
In fact, now that she thought about it, Charlotte left her there last night. Kathy was having one last nightcap with the bar-man. Kathy explained she didn’t get out too often. It wasn’t like the benders she used to go on. She could control it now.
Then she remembered something else. She’d had something to celebrate last night.
She found it difficult to believe that Ruth had lied. All these years, Ruth had kept the lie to herself. All these years, Kathy had beaten herself up. Kathy could scarcely believe that the same Ruth who’d supported her throughout her bad times at university, who’d traveled to London with her for the termination, could have lied to her like that.
Despite the hurt and the hangover ache behind her eyes, Kathy felt a lightness in her heart. Her slate had been wiped clean. Not completely clean, but clean enough to make her feel better about herself.
Sitting now on the edge of the bed, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. Oh dear. Not good. She needed a swim in the hotel pool to sort herself out. She could hardly sit in judgement on the creature they were about to meet when she herself looked like a suspect in a line-up.
In the pool, Kathy was heartened to see that Charlotte was faring little better. In fact she’d only just recognised the woman waving to her, hair hidden by an orange latex cap.
“I’m too old for this lark. I couldn’t tell you the last time I drank that much,” Charlotte said when she swam up to her.
“Not feeling too clever, then?” asked Kathy.
“Really, Kathy, what were we thinking? Three in the morning. I don’t do three in the morning. We’re not nineteen any more. ”
“Tell me about it.”
“Any sign of Ruth?” asked Charlotte, hanging onto the side, splashing her legs.
“Not yet.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ruth so upset. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry.” Charlotte was probing, looking for Kathy’s verdict on the previous night’s confession.
“No. It was a new experience for me as well. Ruth Kelly sobbing her heart out.” Kathy shook her head.
“You two put on quite a floorshow for our fellow diners. Good job we’re in a private meeting-room this morning.”
The thoughts of the impending encounter were sobering Kathy up.
“I’m not looking forward to this, Charlie. I’m doing another few lengths. How about we meet for breakfast in twenty minutes?”
“Yes, of course. Clear your head. I’ll go and rustle up Ruth, if you like. I don’t know whether I’ll feel better or worse on a full stomach.”
“Always better to do battle on a full stomach,” said Kathy, a shiver shimmying up and down her spine in the warm and chlorinated water.
* * *
A little over an hour later with breakfast finished, Kathy sat in the private meeting room with Ruth and Charlotte. All three sat on one side of the table, Ruth’s composure reinstated. It was obvious that they were all on edge, making small-talk, and scanning the room for any distraction.
It was an airy room with French windows looking out over a tight lawn and neat flower-beds. The smell of grass wafted through the window. A small TV was perched high on a wall bracket in a corner. A large framed picture painted in oils depicted a hunting scene. But there was something not right about the room. The table seemed too small, that was it. It was out of proportion with the room somehow.
The clock on the wall read 10:50.
10:55.
10:58.
Kathy fidgeted. Her head throbbed.
Ruth checked her mobile phone.
11:00.
Charlotte threatened to go for a cigarette. Kathy suddenly felt smug. That was one addiction that she’d managed to kick.
11:05.
“Where are they?” asked Ruth.
“I’m sure it w
on’t be long, Ruth. Give Richard a chance. He’s only a few minutes late. He was going to meet Nathan Queally outside the hotel.” Charlotte leapt to her brother’s defence.
11:10.
They heard footsteps and low voices in the corridor outside. The door suddenly swung open. Kathy’s heart was in her mouth. This was it. Show-time.
“Ah good, we have the right room,” Richard said. His large frame hid the figure behind. Richard stepped awkwardly into the room, looking sombre. Behind him shuffled a balding man with a comb-over. Eyes downcast, a shiny film of sweat across his forehead.
Nathan Queally.
Kathy felt her neck and shoulders stiffen. Anxiety from her hangover mixed with foreboding. Yet, on first impressions, there was nothing overtly sinister about this man. Kathy hated the idea that he could skulk around with a veneer of normality, his deviant nature secreted from view. Once more, a potent blend of fear and anger started a poisonous drip into her veins.
With them was a skinny man in a trench-coat, pockets bulging. He was wiping his mouth. Something gloopy spotted his tie. From a distance, it looked like mayonnaise. He closed the door behind them.
“Long time no see, Kathy,” Richard said, coming towards her and kissing her cheek. Kathy smiled warmly. At least he recognised her. She couldn’t have aged too badly.
“Ruth…” He bent to kiss her too. “You’re looking well,” he said. Ruth had offered her cheek politely.
“Charlotte,” he nodded in his sister’s direction. He didn’t smile.
Then Richard stood to one side. “Ladies, let me introduce Nathan Queally.”
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
That clock was loud.
Kathy scrutinised him closely.
He was stooped. Nathan Queally would have been bigger twenty-five years ago. His suit looked like it might be a best suit. A Sunday suit, or the sort of suit you might wear to a funeral. The tie was almost black. It too looked funereal. Queally looked shifty behind his glasses, eyes pink-rimmed, fair-lashes blinking furiously, darting round.
The Blue Pool Page 25
