The girls appeared downstairs for the family meal but there was no sign of Tom. Rachel said he’d gone out earlier with a gym bag. He knew what time dinner was, so she could only surmise that his non-appearance was deliberate. That was an argument she’d have to set aside for another time. She had other things to sort out first.
Mark ate his meal in silence. Suzy and Rachel too. Charlotte caught them exchanging furtive looks and shrugging shoulders. They knew something was afoot but they also knew to keep their mouths shut. It was the most solemn family meal Charlotte could remember.
Later that night, after Tom had texted to say that he was staying over at his girlfriend’s, Mark lay beside her in bed, leafing through a magazine, pretending to read. The house was still and the girls were asleep.
“Charlotte, what happened to Lavinia Horgan?”
Christ. Where did that come from?
He’d let the magazine drop and he was looking at Charlotte as she lay there on the pillow. She felt trapped. Richard had told him about Lavinia Horgan’s accident?
“I had nothing to do with that,” said Charlotte carefully.
“I’m sure you didn’t, Charlotte, but tell me anyway.”
Charlotte pushed herself into an upright position. “I can’t remember all the details. I was only a teenager and it was a long time ago…”
“Tell me anyway.” Mark wasn’t going to let this go.
“Okay then. What I do remember clearly was that Lavinia Horgan was wild. She was always in trouble. No one could ever tell Lavinia what to do, because she would do the opposite…” Charlotte paused. “Lavinia Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere – that what the boys used to call her.” Charlotte pulled herself into a sitting position and looked at Mark. “Really, Mark? You want to hear this. I can’t believe I’m talking about Lavinia Horgan. It’s late, it’s after twelve. You really want to hear about that woman?”
Mark nodded. Expressionless.
Charlotte shrugged. “Alright then,” she said. “From what I remember, and Richard will remember more than me – he was older – Lavinia got herself a moped. She also worked part-time in a video store. All the boys and older men too used to go in there and drool over her. So, one evening after finishing up in the store she was driving home. It was dark and she had to drive underneath an overpass on the road to get to her house. That’s when it happened…”
“What exactly happened?” Mark was staring at her hard.
“Richard didn’t tell you?”
Mark shook his head.
“A brick fell on her from overhead.”
“Fell on her?”
“Yeah, well, some folk at the time wondered if someone had dropped the brick on her deliberately but it didn’t seem likely. Who would do such a thing? Everyone loved Lavinia. She was a very popular girl.”
She felt Mark stiffen. There was a sharp inhalation of breath. “What happened to her?” he asked nervously, looking away. He was staring straight ahead at the wardrobe doors as if something scary might jump out.
“She spent quite a bit of time in hospital… a few months I think. Or maybe a year I don’t know,” said Charlotte. “She went to a rehabilitation center after that. But yeah, she was okay, eventually. She lost part of a leg, but I think she got a prosthetic one a few years later.”
Mark was still staring at the wardrobe doors. He didn’t move. Yet Charlotte was surprised to notice that the pages of his magazine were fluttering. Mark’s hand was trembling. He laid the magazine aside on the bedside locker.
“I’m going to sleep downstairs on the sofa tonight,” he said, as he got out of bed. His voice was strangled with an emotion that sounded alien to her. He put his pillow under his arm.
“Mark, please…”
Turning his back, he went to the door. “One more thing…”
“Yes?” She looked at him, not daring to breathe.
“Sergeant Trish Daly and Sergeant Samantha Greene.” He cocked his head. “Those names mean anything to you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Opening the door, he looked over his shoulder at her, giving her a very strange look.
“Goodnight, Charlotte.”
The look troubled her. Was it disgust? Horror? Or was it fear?
For the first time in their married life, she stayed alone in their double bed while her husband went downstairs.
Kathy
Present Day
It had been a short ceremony. A small congregation – what Ava and Penny Nugent wanted. It was a weekday in November, midday, so most people were at work, unaware of Sarah’s final send-off.
After the publicity that came with finding her remains, and the subsequent inquest, the sisters wanted to be left in peace. Kathy and Ruth had sat in the pew behind Ava and Penny Nugent. Kathy examined every painting and icon in the church, not wanting to think of what was in the coffin. She snuffed the images that tried to creep into her head.
On top of the coffin was a photograph of a smiling woman. Frozen in time. Forever young. Underneath the photo, the caption read:
Sarah Nugent 1970–1991
RIP.
It was fitting that she should be cremated. Not to put her back in the cold ground where she’d lain undiscovered for quarter of a century. Her ashes would be scattered by her sisters over the Irish Sea at Howth.
“Thank you,” Ava said, hugging both Kathy and Ruth as they shivered outside the crematorium. “Thanks so much for being here with us.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” said Kathy. “She was such a huge part of our lives. Of course we’re here.”
“Joining us for lunch?” asked Penny. “We’re going to the restaurant next door.”
“We’d love to,” Kathy said. “Wouldn’t we, Ruth?”
Ruth nodded her agreement.
Over lunch, the group of mourners sat reminiscing about the loving, mad-cap, funny, young woman they remembered. The intimate gathering was sad and poignant. It was a bittersweet occasion – a fitting tribute to the woman they had loved.
“The sentencing’s quite soon,” Penny told them as a gap arose in conversation. Nathan Queally’s fate was a topic they’d been avoiding even though Kathy knew the subject had to crop up at some point.
For a moment no one said anything.
“I heard,” said Kathy, eventually. Richard had been talking to them earlier in the week.
“‘Death by misadventure’ the inquest found.” Penny dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
As they continued to talk the conversation became tricky. Every time Charlotte’s name looked like it was about to come up, Kathy faltered, frantically trying to look for ways to avoid mentioning her.
Richard had declined the invitation to lunch. Kathy’s heart went out to him. He was in a difficult position. As if the recent months had not been traumatic enough, he had been in the papers again. This time Richard was at the center of another two missing persons cases. Two off-duty police women had gone missing over the last twenty years and it appeared that both women were linked to Richard. Both had been work colleagues and possibly more than that.
Reading between the lines from what he’d told her, the re-opened cases were on the verge of a breakthrough. It was also clear that he was no longer in contact with Charlotte. It appeared that Charlotte’s life was also unraveling by the moment.
Unfortunately for her, her husband was divorcing her and her eldest had dropped out of school to be a roadie for a band. Despite Charlotte’s misfortune, Kathy couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry for her.
After the funeral lunch eventually broke up in hugs and tears, Kathy stayed on to chat to Ruth. “You know what, Ruth? It’s been so hard for me. Really hard for years. But, here’s the thing. Honestly, I suspect I’d still have messed up, even if Lawrence hadn’t died, even if I hadn’t met Josh White, and even if Sarah had never disappeared. None of those things helped of course…”
Ruth looked at her kindly. She didn’t interrupt.
; “… In some weird way, I think I wanted to hurt myself because of Lawrence. I deliberately gravitated towards people I knew were no good for me. I think I wanted to punish myself. And then when things fell apart I always had someone else to blame. You know what? Andrew wasn’t the worst of them. I think I put Andrew through the wringer as well.”
“That’s very generous of you,” said Ruth.
“Isn’t it just?” Kathy laughed. “It’s about time I took responsibility for myself. I’ve been trying hard. Really hard.”
“I have to say I’ve noticed a big change since the last time I saw you,” said Ruth. “Of course that was a particularly horrendous few days. You look more content now. Happy.”
“You know what, Ruth?” Kathy managed to croak. “I think I’m going to be fine. For the first time ever, I think I’m going to do just fine.”
“Of course you are.” Ruth smiled broadly at her. “And Emma sounds a lovely kid.”
Kathy was sure she’d bored her to tears with all her stories of Emma. She couldn’t help it. And Kathy’d been delighted at the way things had worked out with Andrew’s parents. The McSorleys seemed really keen on seeing more of their little grand-daughter.
“Emma’s great,” Kathy agreed. “Without a doubt, Emma is the best part of me and the best part of Andrew, put together.”
Ruth squeezed her arm. “I’m really looking forward to you two coming to Ascot. We could go to Legoland. I don’t think my kids are too old just yet.”
“You’re never too old for Legoland!” said Kathy.
She then experienced something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something simple and pure. She scrabbled around for a word to describe it. And then it came to her. That word was hope.
Charlotte
Present Day
The house was quiet. Mark had taken the girls and moved in for a while with his sister. He’d be back though. She felt sure of that. And as for Tom, maybe she’d been a little too strict with him. A bit harsh about his girlfriend. He’d be back too. Just as soon as he’d got her out of his system and he realised that life on the road with a band on tour wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Her son liked his creature comforts. He liked his own bed and home-cooked food. He liked his laundry basket emptied and his clean and ironed clothes put away in drawers.
She could still check on the girls from her car outside their school playground. Just for now, Mark wouldn’t let her anywhere near them. He had no legal basis for this behavior but she didn’t want to antagonise him. She’d play by his rules for now. She would take things one day at a time and she would win back his affection.
The police had asked her all sorts of invasive questions. It was quite ridiculous. She was not a monster. Just someone looking out for her family. And all that nonsense about sergeants Trish Daly and Samantha Greene? That was twaddle. They wouldn’t be able to link her to them. She’d thought them clever women. Too clever for Richard. They’d certainly have run rings around him if she’d allowed those relationships to flourish. But in the end she’d been surprised at how easy it had been.
She’d lured them into the countryside with a simple anonymous phone call. They hadn’t been that clever after all. They’d both been greedy for promotion. Selfish. Wanting all the glory for themselves. Both had willingly come on their own, each enticed with the prospect of solving the riddle of Sarah Nugent.
Charlotte was clever. She also had a good memory – something that had proven useful. It was years later when she’d gone in search of the secret cave that dumb-ass Bundy from the north of Ireland had told her about that night in the pub in Clare. It had been difficult to find but it was as she wanted. It would be no use if it could be easily stumbled on. She had never breathed a word of the place to anyone except perhaps to Richard. The cave had proven ideal – it had been so much harder to dispose of the remains than she’d anticipated.
As she sat in her armchair, Charlotte had to admit there were some small perks to living on your own. She could smoke freely inside her own house. It could be lonely though. Three times this past month she’d invited Brenda from next door in to join her in a glass of wine but for some reason Brenda always seemed to be busy.
As Charlotte sat smoking, she looked out at the kids playing on the green at the front of her house. They were whooping and shouting. A bunch of boys about seven years old were playing football, using jumpers for goalposts. At the far-end of the green, were girls with skipping ropes. Life had been so much simpler when the kids had been that age.
As she watched a car pulled up outside the house. A squad car. Its lights were flashing. There was no siren. Her heart skipped a beat.
Oh, good. At last!
Richard had finally thawed out.
She knew he would. Things were all going to be okay. She hurriedly quenched the cigarette, stood up, and put a smile on her face. As she looked out the window once more, something caught her eye. She looked closer.
There were two squad cars outside now. Two? And that didn’t look like Richard walking towards her house. He was dangling something from his hand… was that… …was that handcuffs? No. She must be wrong.
The boys who moments earlier had been playing football had been drawn towards the house like a herd of curious cattle. They stood on the edge of the green, watching.
The doorbell sounded.
Still smiling, she opened the door. She was right. It wasn’t Richard.
There were four policemen standing at her door and none of them was Richard.
The End
First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © Siobhan MacDonald, 2016
The moral right of Siobhan MacDonald to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781911420033
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Look for more great books at www.canelo.co
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Ruth
Kathy
Charlotte
Ruth
Kathy
Charlotte
Ruth
Charlotte
Ruth
Kathy
Charlotte
Ruth
Kathy
Charlotte
Ruth
Kathy
Charlotte
Ruth
Kathy
Charlotte
Ruth
Kathy
Charlotte
Ruth
Kathy
Charlotte
Ruth
Kathy
Ruth
Charlotte
Kathy
Charlotte
Copyright
The Blue Pool Page 31
