Forgive Me

by Susan Lewis

I don’t think Dan saw right away how much it tore me up when he delivered his news because he just goes on talking about other stuff until he realizes I’m not properly taking it in.

  He bangs the table to get my attention, and starts over again.

  It takes me a while to get what he’s saying, because it feels like he’s making it up, or I’m just hearing stuff I want to hear so I don’t have to handle the truth. “She’s not going to write you a letter, Archie, instead she wants to see you.”

  I feel totally blown away by that, and so close to a proper blub that I have to hide my face in my hands. I really didn’t expect that, honest I didn’t, and there’s no way I’m going to turn it down. I wouldn’t do that to you even though I’m already scared s***less.

  SuperDan then starts going on about how it’s going to work, but I’m asking myself what it might have been about my letters that made you want to see me. It would be helpful to know that, because if I said something right I can be sure of doing it again. Dan says he doesn’t know, because you haven’t discussed it with anyone. You just told him you want to see me and that surprised him, he said, because he hadn’t expected it to happen that soon. He wasn’t sure it would happen at all, but now it’s going to, although no one knows where or when yet.

  So here I am writing to you again and this time I’m going to try and say at least some of the stuff I know Dan wants me to. It’s not like I don’t feel it, honest, it’s just I’m not used to expressing myself in a way that would lose me a lot of cred if anyone of my kind heard it. I think even my ma would have a turn if she got to read this letter, and she don’t need any more turns, that’s for sure. It would set her off crying again, like everything to do with me does—did I already tell you it’s how we spend most of her visits? I’m glad she comes though so I can see she’s all right and she seems to be, so far. Fliss at the caff has taken her on again, and now she has a few bob for petrol, she can drive our old banger up here and back. ’Course I worry about her on the roads, she’s a crap driver and handy with the horn, but that’s my ma for you, crazy and sad and kind of indestructible.

  Anyways, I’m going to start my out-of-character stuff with a really big thank-you for reading my letters. I know there was never any guarantee you would, but after I got a bit more used to doing them I really felt as though I was talking to you, so I always hoped you’d see them one day. Dan says your daughter’s read them too, and your granddaughter, so I also want to say thanks to them. You might all still hate my guts—probably a given—and the reason you want to see me could be to spit in my face—probably another given—but even if that’s true I’m still grateful for you taking the time to read what I wrote.

  Now here comes the really big one and I’ll probably mess it up, but I get that it’s important to try, so here goes.

  With all my heart and soul I’m sorry for what I did to you and your family. I regret it more than anything I’ve ever done in my life, and I’ll never stop regretting it. Please don’t think this is me angling for forgiveness. I get that would be too much to ask so I’m not going to try. I just need to tell you that I’m sorrier than anyone has ever been about anything. I am a hundred percent genuine with this. It doesn’t have anything to do with me trying to sway a judge or to get my AM charge reduced. In fact, now I know you want to see me it’s changed a lot of things for me, so I’ve told my solicitor that I want her to stop trying for a lesser charge. I could have killed you even though I never meant to, and so it’s only right that I face up to what I did and do the time. This means there won’t be a trial because I’m going to change my plea to guilty so you won’t have to go through that ordeal.

  I hope that proves to you how sorry I am.

  If I could do what I know you really want I swear I would, but if I do it’ll be my ma who suffers and I just can’t allow that to happen. I hope you understand and that me spending the rest of my natural in prison will help to make up for it.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Andee said, “I guess you’ve read the letter from Archie that I dropped off yesterday?”

  Claudia glanced at her mother as she passed Andee a cup of tea.

  “You’re looking worried,” Andee told them. “Can I ask what’s bothering you about it?”

  Sitting down next to Marcy at the table, Claudia said, “I guess the prospect of seeing him is starting to feel more real now, and we’re concerned about whether it really is a good idea.”

  Since it wasn’t unusual for victims to experience misgivings as the day of confrontation came closer, Andee waited for her to expand.

  “It’s going to be hard for Mum,” Claudia said.

  Andee nodded, fully appreciating that, and as she looked at Marcy she felt the same overwhelming pity and regret she always did at the sight of the scars. “Tell me,” she said gently, “what was it about his original letters that made you want to see him?”

  Claudia started to answer, but Marcy raised a hand to stop her. “I sensed his loneliness,” she said.

  When she realized there wasn’t any more, Andee said, “And you don’t feel that now?”

  Marcy swallowed, and made herself continue. “I still feel it,” she said, “but . . .” She swallowed again, and her eyes went down as she said, “Claudia and Jasmine think I’ve forgiven him already, but I haven’t. I don’t know if I ever can, or if seeing him will do any of us any good in the long run.”

  “I’ve already told you, Mum,” Claudia said, “we don’t have to go through with it. You don’t owe him anything. None of us do.”

  Because she had to, Andee said, “Claudia’s right. You must think of yourself and what you truly believe will work best for you.”

  Marcy glanced at Andee’s phone as it started to ring.

  “It’s Dan,” Andee told them, and clicked on. “Hi, are you with Helen?” she asked.

  “I’ve just left her office,” came the reply. “She’s got a call booked in with the prison governor about a special visit for tomorrow afternoon. She knows him personally, so that should help. Have you found out yet why Claudia and Marcy wanted to see you?”

  “I’m with them now. We’re discussing a few concerns that have come up since Archie’s last letter arrived.”

  “Oh?” He sounded worried, as Andee knew he would. “Are they backing out?”

  Aware of them listening, she said, “We’ll carry on talking it through and I’ll call you later.” After ringing off she told them, “The arrangements for a visit are going ahead, nothing’s confirmed yet, but it can always be stopped.”

  Claudia looked at her mother.

  Seeing Marcy at a loss, Andee continued carefully. “What do you think of him pleading guilty to attempted murder?”

  “Has he discussed it with his solicitor?” Claudia asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then we can’t be sure he means it.”

  “We can always find out.” When Andee received no response to that, she said, “Would you like me to ask Dan to come and talk to you?” It wasn’t the way it was supposed to work, the offender’s practitioner engaging with the victims, particularly not at this stage, but since they’d hardly followed a conventional path so far it seemed pointless to start now.

  Marcy raised her eyes from the table and gave Andee a half-smile. “Maybe we need to sleep on it some more,” she said.

  As Andee drove away a few minutes later, she was asking herself what difference Archie’s regret, apology, or even his change of plea was really going to make to Marcy. Would any of it help her come to terms with what the fire had done to her face and hand, or alter how humiliating and painful it was to be stared at, avoided and pitied? She would still have to look in the mirror every day and see a hideous travesty of her former self looking back. Not that any of her friends ever thought of her that way, but it was inevitably how Marcy would see it, and how the hell must it feel to know that time was going to be no healer?

  Connecting to Dan, she said, “It might be a good idea to prep
are Archie for it not happening.”

  His reply was slow in coming and she could hear the disappointment in his voice. “I’m guessing you’re no longer at the coach house?”

  “I’ve just left. They’re going to think about it some more, but it’s not looking good.”

  “What’s the objection?”

  “I think it’s still Claudia who has the biggest problem with it. She’s afraid it’s not going to help her mother the way we all want it to, and we can’t blame her for that. Not after what they’ve been through. To be honest, I’m starting to have doubts myself. Are we really so sure this is the right thing to do?”

  There was a long pause, and then—with a humorless laugh—Dan said, “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Chapter Forty

  When Dan warned me a couple of weeks ago that our meeting might not happen, tbh I wasn’t all that surprised. Not that I’d been planning how I’d cope if it didn’t turn out—making plans in here is a part of the lies you tell yourself—but I have to admit I went back to my cell feeling like I’d got proper kicked over for what I’d done, because nothing else—apart from a death sentence—could have made me feel that bad, and I even wondered if an end to it all might be better.

  But then SuperDan turns up three days ago and tells me it’s all on. I’m not sure who’s more chuffed, me or him, but for the first time we high-five (didn’t like to tell him no one really does that anymore) and his happiness shows me that he actually cares. OK, a lot more about you and your family than he does about me, but it still feels good to have someone a little bit onside.

  I’m waiting in my cell now for someone to come and get me. You must be on your way here, or maybe you’ve already arrived. I don’t know how you’re feeling, but me, I’m totally brickin’ it. I’ve never felt this nervous about anything in my life. I honestly don’t think it can be this bad waiting for a jury to come back when you’re in the dock, but I’m not going to know about that now. My solicitor’s been told I want to plead guilty on both charges; I’m just waiting to hear about what happens next. Apparently I’ll still have to go to court, but probably only for sentencing.

  Happy days!

  Anyways, I’m only thinking about that so I don’t have to fret myself over how the next hour is going to pan out, or worry about taking too much of the stink of this place into the room where we’re meeting. I’m not sure where that is, I’ve been told it’s here in the prison, but not any part of it I’ve been before—and there’ll still be guards around to make sure I don’t try anything handy.

  One last thing before they come for me: if this doesn’t go well I want you to know again how really sorry I am and that I wish with everything in me that I could undo it, or find a way to make it up to you. I could say something about my ma here, and my need to protect her, but you already know it so I’ll leave it there.

  PS: I’m trusting you’re not going to say or do anything to change my mind about things, just can’t see it, so not sure why I wrote that.

  Chapter Forty-One

  They were in a kind of conference room with a large rectangular table taking up most of the space, whiteboards and a TV screen on the burlap-clad walls, and a long teak sideboard beneath windows that overlooked a well-stocked kitchen garden. They’d been led here by the deputy governor’s assistant, a chatty woman who’d explained that this was the admin block and quite separate from the main building, although they might spot a few inmates working among the vegetable patches outside.

  “They won’t bother you,” she’d assured them as she’d pushed open the door to this room and waved an arm as if she were introducing them to the royal suite. “No one will interrupt you in here. It’s very private and comfortable—I’m told it’s even soundproofed, but I’m not sure anyone’s ever put it to the test.”

  Dan thanked her on behalf of them all, and after she’d gone to chase up coffee and biscuits he and Andee exchanged ironic glances. This was quite a luxury in comparison to some of the places they held RJ meetings—and in a prison? Who’d have thought it?

  The seating arrangements were easily sorted, with Claudia, Marcy, Jasmine, and Andee on one side of the table, Dan on the other with Archie when he arrived.

  “I’m going to lower the blinds a little,” Andee said, “or we’ll be looking into the sun and it’s important for you to see more than the silhouette of the person you’re talking to.”

  Marcy watched her adjusting the shades and nodded when she’d achieved the right level. Although everyone had a role to play here today she knew that the main focus was going to be on her and Archie Colbrook, and while she accepted that, it was still making her nervous.

  Beside her, to her left, Claudia was checking again that her mobile was off, and after putting it away she reached for her mother’s injured hand. It was OK to touch it now; it didn’t hurt as much, although the itching could still be its own form of living hell. They’d joked the other day about getting half-price manicures now that she only had properly formed fingernails on one hand.

  “What about half-price makeup too?” Marcy had added, but that little witticism had fallen flat as she should have known it would. There was nothing funny about her raw, scarred face and porcine eye, nothing to laugh at there at all—only oceans of desperate tears to shed in the privacy of her room. Still, the fact that they’d been able to raise at least one smile about her new look was surely a step in the right direction.

  “If you want to leave at any time,” Claudia whispered, “you know you can.”

  Yes, Marcy knew that, but she couldn’t imagine herself just upping and walking away now that they’d come this far. Unless things went horribly wrong, of course, in which case she might have to. Turning to Jasmine, she gave her a reassuring smile in spite of knowing how grotesque it was; hopefully the tone of her voice would convey her feelings. “You speak if you want to,” she told her. “Just because you’ve opted not to doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind.”

  Jasmine leaned in to hug her. “I want this to be all about you,” she told her, “and Mum as well, so unless it feels that I ought to say something, or he asks me a question, I’ll just listen.”

  Marcy looked across the table to where Dan was checking something on his laptop, and knowing how much he wanted this to go well, for everyone, she felt a surge of gratitude toward him. She wondered how Claudia might be reacting to seeing him on the other side of the table, taking up position with the enemy so to speak, although she’d known it was going to happen so perhaps it wasn’t upsetting her.

  Turning to her, Marcy whispered, “Are you OK?”

  “Yes,” Claudia replied. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine. I wonder how he’s feeling right now.”

  Dan said, “Nervous, I’m sure. Well, he’d probably use a different expression, but it would have the same meaning.”

  Marcy couldn’t help imagining what words Archie might reach for, but she soon let it go as she began asking herself again if they were doing the right thing in coming here. After his last letter, his apology, she’d felt that it might be enough; she didn’t need to have any more to do with him, for no amount of talking, explaining, trying to understand each other, or whatever else might come up was going to change what had happened. Her face could never be properly repaired. She was disfigured now for the rest of her life. So, what was the point of it all?

  “The point,” Henry had told her, “is that you’ve been talking more since you read his letters. I don’t know why or how, but they seem to have reached something in you that the rest of us haven’t managed to. Isn’t it worth finding out if seeing him really could help?”

  Marcy had been surprised by that answer, for she’d expected him to be as wary as Claudia over this meeting; however, when she’d reported back to Claudia, her daughter had agreed, albeit cautiously, with Henry. So had Jasmine.

  “It feels like a properly positive step,” Jasmine had said, “and if Andee and Dan are behind it I really don’t think
we need to worry.”

  “A lot can be to do with chemistry,” Claudia had continued, surprising Marcy further. “Don’t look like that, I’ve been reading about RJ online. If you absolutely take against him the minute you see him, we’ll know there’s no point going ahead with it, but I don’t think you will, not after the way you reacted to his letters.”

  Marcy began thinking about the letters now, and the parts that had affected her the most. She was remembering letting go of her anger and vindictiveness at the unexpected tenderness she’d felt over their transparent bravado, when her heart suddenly lurched. The door was opening.

  A woman came through with a tray of refreshments. Marcy watched her set it on the sideboard, then felt Claudia’s hand tighten on hers. She turned back to the door and her heart stilled again. A young man was filling the space and looking vaguely like the mugshots she’d seen on the news, but only vaguely. He was tall and clean shaven; his dark hair was combed back from his forehead, and his brown eyes as he looked at Dan showed the same vulnerability she’d picked up in his letters. There was no air of arrogance or cockiness about him, no sense of boredom or irritation; almost nothing of what she’d primed herself for, not even any tattoos or piercings.

  “Everyone,” Dan said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he turned to address the room, “this is Archie.”

  Marcy, Claudia, and Jasmine watched as Andee went to greet him, introducing herself as their supporter, shaking his hand and thanking him for coming. As she returned to her place Dan led him to the other side of the table and before they sat down he continued his introductions.

  “Archie, this is Claudia Winters.”

  Archie started to reach out a hand but pulled it back when Claudia simply raised hers in greeting.

  “This is Claudia’s daughter, Jasmine,” Dan continued.

  He didn’t attempt to shake this time, simply gave her the same sort of awkward salute that she gave him.