The Blue Pool

by Siobhan MacDonald

  She took a few cautious steps. Sarah was completely still. Legs sprawled out. Head back. Charlotte looked into her face and stayed looking for quite some time. She had to be sure. Sarah’s eyes were open, unseeing. Charlotte hovered her hand over Sarah’s mouth. There was no warm breath. No breath at all. Just a stillness.

  A sudden rush of panic hit her.

  It was time to go. Charlotte had to get out of here. Now. No one knew that she was still here. As far as Charlotte knew, no one knew that Sarah had even come back to the cabin. And no one would ever know that they had been here together.

  Charlotte grabbed her bag, ran straight for the back door, to her little Ford Fiesta and drove down that gravel driveway like she’d never driven before. When she got to the bottom of the hill joining the main road near the pub, she frantically wound down the window. And with one hand on the steering wheel, she threw the blue inhaler as far away as she could manage.

  She must have driven a good forty or fifty miles before she felt she could relax, before the fury of adrenaline began to subside and a crushing anti-climax hit her.

  This didn’t have to be.

  Why did Sarah have to behave like that? Why would she mess everything up? They’d all had such a good thing going together without Sarah going upsetting everything. It had been so downright selfish of her. She could have toyed with someone else. Anyone else. Sarah could have had anyone else she fancied.

  Without Charlotte ever needing to say so, all the girls had known that Richard was off-limits. So too did Sarah. She knew that Richard was beyond the pale. What had just unfolded had been so completely avoidable. So completely unnecessary. But there hadn’t been a choice. Charlotte had only done what any loyal sister would do.

  Who else was going to look out for Richard?

  Ruth

  Adare

  Present Day

  The room went deathly quiet.

  All eyes turned to Charlotte.

  Kathy was speechless. Richard’s jaw had dropped, making him look idiotic, his professional detachment rapidly falling apart. Nathan Queally was blinking rapidly now, not quite sure why his comments had caused such drama.

  Inspector Shaw’s narrow eyes were trained on Charlotte. He looked like a bird of prey about to swoop. Something momentous had just happened in this room and he smelled blood.

  “It was you?” Ruth croaked.

  Stunned, she’d pulled her chair way back from the table and had angled herself towards Charlotte. “You were the Charlie that Sarah was yelling at?”

  Charlotte didn’t even flinch. She remained still, staring straight ahead. For a second, Ruth wondered if she’d even heard the question, her face betrayed such little emotion. Blink. Blink. Blink went her eyes. There was no response. The ticking of the clock seemed to slow.

  “That was you, Charlotte?” Richard’s voice was full of doubt. Of disbelief. He was staring hard at his sister.

  No response.

  Charlotte remained rigid. A vein in her long neck throbbed visibly.

  “Charlotte, before you say anything more, do you think we need to call a lawyer?”

  Richard glanced from Charlotte to Inspector Shaw. There was fear in Richard’s voice. Inspector Shaw nodded his approval at Richard’s caution.

  Still no response.

  “Look… erm, Charlotte,” Richard stumbled. “Help me out here, please. I just don’t understand…” Richard looked bewildered, trying to absorb the ramifications of the bombshell that Nathan Queally had unwittingly and casually detonated.

  “Why would I need a lawyer?” Charlotte said eventually. “I don’t need a lawyer,” she said it softly.

  Ruth was fit to burst. Why had Charlotte neglected to tell anyone that she’d been alone with Sarah on the day she went missing? On the day she died? Assuming that Nathan Queally were indeed telling the truth. It had to be the question that hung on all their lips. It was burning a hole through Ruth. Why had Charlotte not told them? Nathan Queally’s unsuspecting revelation had knocked her sideways.

  “Explain what’s going on here please, Sergeant Moran,” Stephen Shaw took control. He sounded matter-of-fact but his flashing eyes said otherwise.

  Richard looked from Charlotte to Stephen Shaw, his superior officer.

  “Sir, my sister Charlotte here,” he paused, “well, see we sometimes call her Charlie. Charlotte, Charlie, whatever.” He squirmed on his chair, looking desperately uncomfortable. Ruth felt sorry for the man.

  “Is that so?”

  Stephen Shaw seemed to take a sudden and intense interest in the gardener working outside the French windows. After a few seconds, he shifted his attention full focus onto Charlotte. Along with everyone else in the room.

  Charlotte remained impassive. The vein in her neck bulging now. Stephen Shaw stared at her. He put the pencil into his mouth and chewed the end. Everyone waited. He kept chewing the pencil, and was angling his head from side to side to stretch his neck. It became a staring match.

  Ruth’s whole body bristled with tension. Everyone was waiting.

  “Okay then, it was me,” Charlotte said, softly. “So what?”

  Ruth hardly dared to breathe.

  “You tell us, Charlie,” Inspector Shaw lingered on her name. “From my perusal of the original records, the last sighting of Sarah Nugent was by Ruth Kelly and Kathy Clarke, both of whom are at this table today. Are you now telling me, that you saw Sarah Nugent later on the day in question?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  Richard looked like he’d been winded. His face now contorted into one big question. He looked more and more uncomfortable as he kept his eyes fixed on his sister. Ruth herself was reeling.

  So, it now transpired that there was yet another dimension to this whole tragic story that had marred their lives for years. A concealed and sinister dimension. Ruth looked at her long-time friend Charlotte with a growing sense of dread.

  “Sarah wasn’t able to get a lift,” Charlotte said as she placed her hands on the table, gripping the edge. “So she’d volunteered to go it alone as Ruth and Kathy had taken a lift earlier.”

  Ruth flinched. She felt that familiar bitter pang of guilt on hearing that Sarah had volunteered to strike out alone. Around the table, everyone remained transfixed as Charlotte told them how Sarah had ditched her placard and her suitcase and made her way back to the cabin in despair.

  Ruth could scarcely take in what she was hearing. The woman speaking now was not the Charlotte Moran that Ruth had known in university. Not the warm and caring Charlie who’d wanted them all to have rip-roaring fun on that last country weekend away. Not the Charlie that Sarah had loaned her ball-gowns to. Not the caring Charlie that was going to work with VSO and save the world. The woman speaking now in a staccato monotone was someone cold and unfamiliar.

  “Why was Sarah Nugent yelling?” Inspector Shaw asked coolly. “What were you two arguing about?”

  Charlotte examined her hands. She considered the question carefully.

  “Sarah was being Sarah.” Charlotte sounded strange.

  “Explain,” said Stephen Shaw.

  “Sarah was behaving like a spoilt child.” Charlotte’s fingers squeezed the table. There was steel in her voice. “She was boasting how she was going to ring Richard and get him to collect her at the Blue Pool. And how she was going to get him to drive her all the way home to Dublin. At first I thought she was mucking about, having a laugh at me. Having a laugh at Richard. But then I realised she was deadly serious.” Charlotte looked grim. Ruth stole a quick glance at Richard. He looked paralysed.

  “Sarah was always so cavalier about everything.” Charlotte squared her shoulders. “She never thought things through. She never stopped to think of any consequences. And as we all know, there are always consequences.” The tone of Charlotte’s voice chilled Ruth. “She always thought she could do just exactly as she pleased, and with whom she wanted. Sarah Nugent picked men up and dropped them just as quick, without a care for their feelings. What Sarah
wanted, Sarah got. She just didn’t give a shit. You remember her stupid six-week-rule, Kathy? Remember Sarah’s six-week-rule?”

  Kathy couldn’t muster an answer. She sat speechless.

  Charlotte continued, “Remember that poor fool who came the whole way down from Dublin, begging Sarah to go back out with him?” She addressed this to Ruth. “Sarah was having none of it. Oh, no. She’d done with him. That poor fool wasn’t up to par. Never got past her six-week probation period.”

  “How is all this relevant, Charlotte?” Stephen Shaw’s eyes had narrowed

  even more.

  “Because of Richard,” Charlotte said it with disdain. As if Shaw were somehow stupid.

  Stuff began to move around Ruth’s head. As if she’d been looking at an abstract painting for ages and suddenly she saw something new in it.

  “Explain,” said Shaw again, registering no offence at Charlotte’s tone.

  “Well, Sarah said she could get Richard to do whatever she wanted. That in fact, she might even consider going out with him – in that way she had, as if she’d found a new distraction to toy with. She declared that she found Richard amusing, diverting, and when he made a social call on her a few times in Dublin that summer –”

  “Is that correct, Sergeant Moran?” Shaw interrupted sharply.

  “Eh…well, yes, I suppose… I did meet her for lunch a few times… but there was nothing… I mean there was nothing –”

  “There’s no record of this in the archives.”

  “N-no, I didn’t mention it. I mean I didn’t see that it was…” Richard paused, searching for a word. “Relevant,” he mumbled, eventually.

  Shaw jotted something on his notepad.

  “Sarah was going to make a fool of Richard. I knew that.” Charlotte jumped in to defend her brother. “It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t going to put up with that. I didn’t want her to call Richard. And so I told her. But she just laughed. It was all a big joke to her… but she didn’t laugh too long…” Charlotte stopped suddenly as if she’d said too much.

  “Carry on,” said Stephen Shaw.

  “The thing is that she was wet,” Charlotte spoke more thoughtfully now, as if she were deliberating over the words. Choosing them with care. “It was raining and damp outside.” Charlotte paused. “Sarah had asthma. You knew that, right?”

  Shaw turned to Richard. “She’d been hospitalised with an acute attack after her first year in college, is that correct?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Richard said, nodding. “According to what Penny and Ava Nugent said yesterday. That’s correct.” He sounded numb.

  “As I was saying, Sarah was pretty wet already,” continued Charlotte. “And she’d worked herself up into a complete state with all her ranting. The next thing is she starts this coughing, this wheezing… and what can I say? She brought it all on herself.”

  Charlotte looked at Ruth and Kathy for support. Neither said a thing.

  “Sarah never took her asthma seriously. I mean, she even smoked for God’s sake. How stupid can you be? She knew she shouldn’t do it, but of course that was Sarah all over.”

  “Her inhaler,” Kathy whispered. “What about her inhaler? She may have smoked, but Sarah carried that inhaler everywhere with her.”

  “I dunno.” Charlotte shrugged. “Anyhow, there was nothing I could do.” She looked down at the table. “Sarah just couldn’t catch her breath and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.”

  Ruth looked at this woman, wondering if she’d ever really known her. The account Charlotte had given was so cold and detached. There was little evidence of any sadness or empathy for their former housemate. And yet, Charlotte’s loyalty and love of her brother was completely at odds with such detachment. There was something off-kilter and unbalanced in this account of what had happened. And yet one look at Nathan Queally seemed to corroborate what Charlotte was saying. He’d been listening intently all the while, his expression alternating between bewilderment and understanding.

  “The inhaler,” Kathy repeated. “Richard, didn’t the police find an inhaler dumped on the roadside near that pub?”

  “Yes. That’s right.” Richard nodded. He was staring at Charlotte, a mix of disbelief and horror etched on his face. Ruth’s heart went out to him again. The man seemed distraught.

  “Sorry, sir,” Richard looked at Shaw. “Back in a minute.” Richard stood up and bolted for the door. Ruth wondered if he’d gone to throw up. He’d suddenly gone very white.

  Inspector Steven Shaw himself stood up and stretched himself. He walked to the French windows and looked out at the cut lawn.

  “I simply can’t believe all this,” Kathy hissed to Charlotte. “How could you do this to us, your friends?”

  It was as if Charlotte hadn’t heard Kath. As for Ruth, a whole host of other more pressing questions jostled to be answered. Her head fizzed and burst with questions. Stephen Shaw was now walking around the table slowly, looking at each of them in turn. Looking very thoughtful. He prowled around the table three times waiting for Richard’s return.

  After what seemed like an age, the door opened again. “Sorry about that,” Richard addressed his superior officer as he slunk back into his chair. He looked shaken. This time he avoided looking at his sister.

  “Now, Charlotte,” Inspector Shaw said calmly as he returned to his seat, “can you tell us just why you didn’t contact anyone… indeed tell anyone when this… this unfortunate… this tragic incident occurred?”

  “I should have,” Charlotte replied immediately. “Of course, that’s exactly what I should have done. I know that now… it would have been so much… easier. More straightforward. Yes, of course I should have reported it. But I didn’t. I just didn’t. I think I panicked. I mean, it was pretty upsetting to witness that. Imagine how I felt…” She looked around the table. “I think the only meaningful answer I can give today is to say that I went into shock. I think I wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, you know. And then when Sarah disappeared like that… no trace of her…well you can see the position that put me in. Well now, you can see my predicament, can’t you? How could I come forward then? I had absolutely no idea what had happened to her. Or where she was. Who was going to believe me? I left Sarah lying on the sofa of my Uncle Cyril’s cabin. She was dead. And that was the very last I saw of her.”

  Stephen Shaw slapped his hands on the table making them all jump.

  “And enter our friend Mr Queally here, stage left,” said Stephen Shaw, turning his attention to Nathan Queally who’d been listening intently to Charlotte’s revelations. “Ah, yes indeed,” drawled Shaw. “We have a picture building up nicely here, Mr Queally – a very interesting picture indeed.”

  Once again Queally looked like an animal trapped in the glare of a bright light.

  “Now, Nathan,” said Stephen Shaw, “For the benefit of everyone here, just like you did yesterday with the Nugent sisters, perhaps you can again go through exactly what you did with Sarah Nugent’s body?”

  Queally hung his head.

  Kathy

  Adare

  Present Day

  From the outset, Kathy knew today wouldn’t make for easy listening, but what she’d heard had shocked her to the core. She’d never before had to question the kindness or goodness of her oldest friends.

  What Charlotte told them had the ring of truth, and yet it raised as many questions as it answered. Kathy wanted to pick over the detail of what Charlotte had told them, dissect it, analyse it, but she bit her tongue. Why had Charlotte not done the simplest, most obvious thing, and told the truth? And there was more to come, this wasn’t over yet. She’d have to bide her time. Don’t let this be gruesome. Please, oh please let this man tell us that he buried Sarah with some little dignity. Kathy steeled herself and chewed the inside of her cheeks.

  “Mr Queally, are you with us?” asked Stephen Shaw.

  “Yes… yes.”

  Nathan Queally cleared his throat and lowered his eyes. “I don’t
know what came over me,” he started to mumble. “Really, I don’t.” He swallowed. “I can’t excuse it. I suppose it was Egypt all over again –”

  “Mr Queally,” Ruth sat up straight, “Please, what do you mean by that?” Her tone was softer now, less abrasive.

  “I used to be in the army, as you know.” Queally shifted on the chair, looking embarrassed. “Back in the late seventies and early eighties. I was on overseas tour of duty this one time, and on a weekend’s leave in Cairo. And there was an incident.”

  Apart from his stammer, Queally was softly spoken for a lunk of a man. Absurdly so in fact, his demeanor and carriage more suited to a professional man than that of a casual tradesman. He wiped his eyes behind the glasses.

  “That woman attacked me f-first,” Queally continued. “A complete nut-job. It was s-self-defense. But no one would come f-forward. No one would believe me. I was court-marshalled and given a dishonorable discharge for assaulting a female colleague while on my overseas tour of duty.” His voice was pained. “I told the truth of what had happened in that bar in Egypt. Look where that got me. I lost my career, my honour, my p-pride. It was very hard on my poor wife too. But Alice stood by me. Alice always believed in me.” There was deep affection in his voice.

  “You see, I could s-see it all happening again.” Queally looked across the table at them, pleading for understanding. “You’re all c-college girls, educated women. Way cleverer than me. Think about it. Imagine it – some p-posh student kid found dead on the sofa of a holiday cabin.” He was very coherent now, putting his case to them. “Some ex-army, odd-jobbing, low-life bum working at the cabins close by finds this young female student. Cause of death unknown.” He shrugged. “Sure, I hadn’t a clue what k-killed her, I only knew it wasn’t me. But I’d already been done for assaulting a woman. Put yourself in my shoes. They’d have p-pinned it on me, for sure. I know they would. Said I’d lost my temper again.” He shook his head, his voice full of regret. “Give a dog a bad name… they would have locked me up, for sure. Who was going to look after my Alice? MS had a firm grip of her by then. No,” he shook his head. “I just couldn’t let that happen. I just couldn’t t-take that risk.”