by Maria Hoey
On the inside cover I had written my name, address and age and underneath, in large capitals the words:
THIS IS MY DIARY THAT VIOLET-MAY DUFF GAVE TO ME FOR CHRISTMAS
The pride behind the words seemed to me to sing off the page and in spite of myself I smiled. The first few pages of the diary were given over to the last week in December 1983 and I started from the first entry which I had made on Christmas Eve.
24 December
Today I am very happy because it is Christmas eve. But most of all I am happy because Violet-May Duff is my best friend and Robbie Duff knows my name.
26 December
I made popcorn with my new popcorn maker that I got for Christmas. Some of it got burnt but not too much.
1 January
We had a turkey and Christmas pudding again. I don’t even like Christmas pudding so I had jelly and ice cream instead. I am going to write in my diary every single day for the whole year. That is my new year resolution.
2 January
Violet-May got a hairdryer for Christmas. I have no hairdryer. Robbie Duff went back to boarding school so I will not see him for ages and ages. I wish he didn’t go to boarding school. I wish I was older and that I had a hairdryer.
3 January
Ken Fitzgerald got in trouble in school again. He is so stupid. Violet-May is coming to my house on Saturday. Nothing else happened.
4 January
Nothing happened today.
5 January
Ken Fitzgerald pulled my hair again. I wish my hair was like Violet-May’s.
6 January
Nothing happened today.
12 January
I am writing a story about a girl with a pet fox but nobody can see the fox except her. He is really a magic fox but nobody knows that except the girl. The girl’s name is Violet-May.
13 January
My teacher said my story was the best in the whole class. I am going to be a writer when I grow up and I am going to live in a big house like Violet-May. Robbie Duff will probably live next door.
14 January
Nothing happened today.
14 Feburary
Violet-May got 3 Valentine cards but I got none. I wonder if Robbie Duff sent any Valentine cards. I hope not.
9 March.
I got my sums all wrong again but I don’t care. Sums are stupid and I hate them. You don’t need to know sums if you are going to be a writer anyway.
2 April
Ken Fitzgerald played an April Fool joke on the teacher even though yesterday was April’s Fool Day. Violet-May said it was a stupid joke but I thought it was kind of funny. Violet-May said stupid people don’t know they are stupid because they are too stupid to know they are stupid. I think that means that Ken Fitzgerald does not know that he is stupid even though everybody tells him all the time.
22 April
I got two Easter eggs. Robbie Duff said I am a silly little girl.
21August
Violet-May came back from her holidays. She is very brown. We are having our birthday party in my house. It is her party and my party too and I am getting a new pink dress from a shop. I am very happy.
10 September
Mrs Duff is ordering the birthday cake. Mam said Flora Duff is a busybody. I don’t care because the cake is my cake too and it is an ice-cream cake.
24 September
It is my birthday and I am sad because there is no party and because Alexander fell in the river. Mam said it is not my fault. It was an accident and I am not to think about it anymore. I got a bike for my birthday and four books and money and cards. It is hard not to think about Alexander. I wish he was not dead. I went to the police station two times. The policewoman is called Fidelma and she is kind but I hope I don’t have to go anymore.
26 September
There is sausage and mash for dinner but my tummy hurts. I think it is because I am sad about Alexander. I think about Alexander all the time and I dream about him too. Mam says stop but I don’t know how to stop.
29 September:
The twins want me to go to the pictures with them and Mrs Nugent. My mam said go and have a nice time but I don’t want to go to the pictures and have a nice time. I want to have our party, me and Violet-May. But we can’t have a party because Alexander fell in the river and now he is dead and everybody is too sad.
5 October
I am afraid Mam will read my diary. I think I found a good hiding place. Violet-May gave me this diary but now I think she is not my friend. I don’t know because I never see her any more and she does not come to school. I wish I had a sister to talk to like she has a sister. If I had a sister I would tell her my secret.
6 October
I woke the whole house again. When Mam asked what did you dream about, Kay, I told her I don’t remember. That was a lie. I dreamed about Alexander falling into the river. I always dream about Alexander.
7 October
I broke the bird ornament on the mantelpiece. Mam said it does not matter that I broke it because it is no use crying over spilled milk and Daddy can fix it with the glue from work. She said she only minds because I told a lie. She said you should always tell the truth and you will feel better. I want to tell the truth but I can’t. Violet-May did not tell the truth. She said it was an accident when Alexander fell in the river. But an accident is when you did not mean to do something and Violet-May did mean it. I heard her and I know she did it on purpose.
Memory dilutes and refines the past but I had never realised just how much until that day when I sat on the edge of my bed in our old house, reading that damp-spotted little diary in which I had recorded in all its freshness, the great and small pains and joys of childhood. Children see things in terms of black and white and that was how I had written it, all those years ago. The writing itself had faded but not the impact of what was recorded there first-hand. There it was – no equivocation, no ifs or buts or maybe’s – Violet-May had done it on purpose.
The diary did not end there and I read it to the final entry, but nothing else had the impact of those five words: she did it on purpose. Seeing that in my childish hand made it all so much more real, so much more chilling than last night's memory of the conversation between Violet-May and Rosemary-June on Bone Bridge that terrible day.
I sat there for a long time, feeling chilled in the silent house, the diary, closed now, in my lap while I struggled to come to terms with things. How, I had to ask myself, had I allowed myself to become part of that terrible lie?
Violet-May did it on purpose; it was not an accident. Alexander had not slipped, she had dropped him into the water off Bone Bridge that day and I had known she had. I might not have seen it with my own eyes as Rosemary-June had, but I had known it in my heart, otherwise I would not have written about it in such unequivocal terms. Violet-May did it on purpose.
Why had I kept quiet? Whatever about Rosemary who was Violet-May’s sister, why had I not spoken up? And how could I have forgotten what I knew – and had I ever really forgotten or had it simply been more comfortable to allow myself to believe I had? Because wasn’t it the case that, despite what everyone had sought to instil in me, despite all the assurances that it was best to forget, somehow I had always known better?
Those nightmares, those awful nightmares that had culminated in that sleepwalking episode, hadn’t all of that been because in my heart of hearts I had known what Violet-May had done? So what then? My mind, unable to deal with the burden of that knowledge, had found a way to block out an unbearable memory, an unbearable truth, was that it?
There were so many questions and I had almost no answers. But of one thing I was certain: as soon as I got back to the Duff house I would confront Rosemary with what I knew and insist that she too confront the truth which we had both for whatever reason chosen to bury – which was that Violet-May had deliberately caused the death of her baby brother. But I also needed her to confront what I also now firmly believed – Oliver was in danger from Violet-May, jus
t as Alexander was. The incident with the pond, his being found on the roadside, the attic-room window ledge and finally the near-miss with my car – it was impossible to pretend anymore that all of these things were not linked, particularly now that I had finally accepted what I knew to be true. Rosemary herself, who knew as much as I did, knew more in fact, might not want to confront the reality of the situation, and as for Robbie – I did not know about Robbie but, regardless, my obligation now was not to Rosemary or Robbie but to Rosemary’s innocent children. One more dead child on my conscience was not something I could even contemplate.
Chapter 28
“I need to talk to you, Rosemary.”
“What’s up?”
She was at the kitchen sink drying her hands on a towel and she turned and smiled at me. I have never known anyone with a sweeter smile than Rosemary Duff and as I looked at her that day I was overwhelmed with sudden doubt. How was I to say what I needed to say to her, ask her what I needed to ask? Did she actually already know or had she blocked it out the same way that I did? After all, she was two years younger than I was, so only nine at the time of Alexander’s death. And what if I had got it all wrong, what if it was all just one terrible big mistake? She had been through so much already – this could very well be the final straw that broke her. But then I told myself what I had told myself in my parents’ house: this was not about Rosemary or me or Violet-May or Robbie, this was about Oliver and Caroline. Rather I should be wrong, rather I should embarrass myself beyond all redemption, than risk their safety for one second more. I wished with all my heart that Robbie was here, that I could abdicate the responsibility I now felt to him, but Robbie was not here and my conscience would not allow me to waste any more time.
“I’m sorry, but it’s about the kids,” I said, apologising before I had even begun.
“What is it?” said Rosemary, still smiling. “Is Caroline being a nuisance? I know she’s taken to following you about like a little shadow. Is she getting in the way of your writing?”
I shook my head. If only it were something so trivial.
“Caroline could never be a nuisance,” I said. “I love spending time with her. Look, Rosemary, there’s no easy way to broach this, but I have something on my mind and I won’t rest easy until I talk to you about it. The truth is I’m worried about the children.”
Rosemary, who had begun folding the tea towel, looked at me, startled. “What do you mean you’re worried about them?”
I hesitated as I tried to put into words what I needed to say. In the end I blurted it out.
“I think Oliver may be in danger, Caroline too for all I know. But mostly it’s Oliver I’m afraid for.”
“Afraid for Oliver?” said Rosemary. Her eyes had widened and were fixed on my face.
“Yes, Rosemary, I’m afraid for Oliver. All these accidents, his going missing and turning up outside the grounds where he might have wandered into the road and been killed, that nightmare the other day with him up on that window ledge? Didn’t it make you wonder, Rosemary? And what about yesterday, when he ran out in front of my car? One minute he’s tucked up in his cot, the next he’s in the shrubbery. It doesn’t make sense, Rosemary, you must know it doesn’t. And I may be wrong, I really hope I am wrong, but all I can think about is what happened to Alexander and that’s why I know that this time around I can’t and I won’t keep quiet.”
“This time?” said Rosemary. Her voice was a low flat echo. “What do you mean by ‘this time’, Kay?”
“I’m talking about what happened to Alexander, Rosemary. I’m saying that what happened to him can’t be allowed to happen to Oliver. And I’m saying that I don’t think Violet-May is the right person to be around ... to be around small children.”
“Violet-May,” said Rosemary, and again her voice was completely expressionless, devoid of surprise or outrage, denial or any of the reactions I had expected. She was staring down at the towel in her hand which, while I had been speaking, she had folded into a neat square. Then she looked up and our eyes met, and hers were huge and haunted, so much so that I almost caught my breath at the naked emotion I saw there. Perhaps it was because, used as I was to her smiles, her dreamy, sometimes vacant gazes, I had never yet seen her in real distress.
“I thought I was going mad,” she said. “I thought it was only me who saw it.”
She reached out toward a kitchen chair, fumbled at it like a blind person and I hurried to help her sit down. I got her a glass of water and slipped into a chair opposite and waited while she drank.
“Are you OK?” I asked, as she put the glass down on the table.
“I’m fine, thanks, Kay,” she said and she flashed me her smile but it was a mere ghost of itself. “It’s just that I’ve never said it out loud before. And the really strange thing is that it’s almost a relief.”
I bowed my head in acknowledgement of what she meant. “I understand better than you know,” I said.
“You see, I meant it, Kay, when I said just now that I thought I was going mad. I kept telling myself that I was imagining things, seeing things that weren’t there, that I had to be. And I kept worrying all the time that something terrible was going to happen.”
“You mean to Oliver?” I said.
Rosemary nodded. “But I can’t be going mad, can I, not if you see it too? Oh my God, you see it too, Kay.” On the table top her two hands had found each other and I could see that the fingers were shaking.
I reached out and put my hand on hers.
“It’s OK,” I said. “I do see it too, so from now on you don’t have to deal with this on your own. Between us all, we’ll make sure that nothing bad happens to Oliver, or to Caroline either. We just need to decide what to do for the best, you and me and Robbie.”
Rosemary looked up. “Robbie? Robbie knows too?”
“No, I don’t know what Robbie knows. I’m pretty sure he suspects something is wrong though.”
“I think so too,” said Rosemary. She looked at me uncertainly. “So you haven’t mentioned this to Robbie at all, these things you’ve been thinking?”
“Not yet I haven’t, but haven’t you ever spoken to him about your own suspicions, Rosemary?”
Rosemary shook her head. “Not in so many words.”
“But why not?”
Rosemary hung her head very much like a child might. “I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, where would I start?”
“Perhaps,” I said gently, “you could start with what happened that day on Bone Bridge.”
Rosemary’s head came up and her eyes met mine. “Sometimes I wonder if he knows,” she said. “If he’s guessed. I mean I’ve sensed he’s worried about Oliver, the way he fusses about him so much. But the truth is we’ve never talked about what happened to Alexander, not really. He did speak to Violet-May about Oliver, about being more careful of him. That was after he’d found out about Oliver going missing and Grace finding him out on the road. It was you who told him about that, wasn’t it, Kay? I knew it had to be, although we had agreed not to.” She sounded mildly reproachful.
“Yes, it was me who told him,” I said stoutly. “We never should have kept it from him in the first place.”
“I agree,” said Rosemary. “I always thought we should have told him really. It was Violet-May who thought otherwise and I let her talk me into saying nothing. I was glad when you told Robbie.” She shot me a questioning glance. “I suppose you’ve already told him all that’s happened recently too?”
I shook my head. “I would have but his phone must be out of range, because I can’t reach him.”
“Even if you had reached him,” said Rosemary, “what could he do? All that would happen is he’d worry himself sick and what good would that do to anybody? It’s best to wait until he gets back. But I don’t mind admitting I’m very glad you’re here, Kay. And I’m glad we’ve been honest with one another. I just wonder why Robbie didn’t say anything to me – I mean, if he suspects something is wrong, as you say
. Perhaps it’s because he can’t bring himself to believe it. I can hardly believe it myself, it’s too fantastic, like something you’d read in a book not something that could happen in real life … but …”
“But still you know it’s true,” I finished her sentence for her.
