A Suitable Lie

by Michael J Malone

  ‘You guys have to sort all of this out with the boys’ best interests at heart.’ Mum’s face sagged with concern. ‘Sue Hunter at number 33 – she hasn’t seen her grandson for over a year.’

  ‘Jeez, that’s awful.’

  ‘Her son’s wife refuses to let them anywhere near them. Ignores court orders.’ She shook her head. ‘She even pretended the boy was autistic, needed a strict routine and that his father would only disrupt that.’

  ‘Surely the system wouldn’t let that happen?’

  Mum shrugged. ‘Thankfully, that ploy didn’t work, but she still misses play-dates with Dad. She even goes away for weekends when it’s the dad’s turn and there’s nothing he can do about it.’

  I understood Mum’s fears. I shared them. The boys were a major part of her life and she dreaded any cessation of that.

  ‘Grandparents are often the forgotten ones in these scenarios. While the parents score points off one another Granny loses contact with her grandkids.’

  ‘I get it, Mum. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure the boys stay in both our lives.’ I placed my hand on hers. Felt the dry warmth of it.

  ‘It’s not up to you though, is it? I’ve heard some horror stories of the family courts. Mums tend to hold all the cards.’ She pursed her lips and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms as she was bolstered by the cushion.

  ‘Right, Mum.’ I shook my head. I didn’t want to go there tonight. ‘Let’s just enjoy having the boys for now, and worry about all that stuff later, eh?’

  ‘Aye, right enough. Anyway, you must be shattered after all this excitement.’

  ‘Tired?’ I felt as if muscle was sagging from my bones. ‘I could sleep for a fortnight.’

  ‘Right.’ She bustled out of the room and returned with a pair of pillows and a thick quilt. ‘I’ll camp out here.’ She forced a bright tone. ‘The bed in the spare room is already made up.’

  My bed for the night was a single and my feet hung over the end. I considered going in to join the boys in my mum’s bed, but knew from experience that I would get no sleep. I’d shared a bed with them on many occasions and something always held me back from full sleep mode. Perhaps in a deep part of my mind I was scared I would turn over in the night and crush one of them in my sleep.

  Common sense told me a good night’s rest was required if I was to get things back on an even keel, so I stayed where I was.

  I lay on my back, hands under my head, eyes searching the dark of the ceiling. The moment when Anna suggested I take the boys played over and over in my mind. What had prompted that? Was she tired of fighting? She mentioned her parents. Did she remember an old promise she’d made to herself – that she would have a happier home than her parents did? Recognise that she’d failed in this and decided to start afresh?

  Whatever it was, I was grateful.

  I sat up in bed.

  I should go to her. Talk. See how she was. If she didn’t have me or the boys, what kind of state would she be in? For all her faults she loved the boys. When I was forced away from them I felt their absence like an ache in my gut. She’d be the same.

  Without giving it too much thought, I kicked my feet off the bed and located my clothes in the dark. As quietly as I could I dressed and left the house, aware of my mother’s eyes on my back as I tiptoed through the living room.

  Mum reached me as I put my hand on the door handle. She flicked a switch and the hall light came on. Her hair was sticking up all over her head and her eyes were shrunken with lack of rest.

  ‘Andy, son, is this wise?’ she asked in that tone that was just above a whisper.

  ‘I need to see her, Mum.’

  ‘It’s two a.m. What can you possibly talk about now that can’t wait until morning?’

  ‘I have to know, Mum. Is this a blip or is this a change for the better?’

  She pulled her dressing gown tight and searched my eyes for a clue as to my mood.

  ‘Will you stay calm? If she doesn’t say what you want to hear, can you stay calm?’

  ‘I’ll say and do whatever it takes to keep my boys in my life, Mum.’

  My former home was in darkness. I parked on the street instead of the drive, climbed out of the car and stood on the pavement studying each of the windows as if they might give some sort of clue to Anna’s state of mind.

  The air was balmy and by the light of the streetlamps I could see that the front garden I’d toiled over in recent years was in a good state: the lawn trimmed, the borders free of weeds. To the neighbours nothing would look out of place. Nothing outwardly changed. Anna was all about appearances.

  I heard a cry. Sharp and high, it faded on the breeze. What was it? I cocked my head. A fox? A pair of battling cats?

  I listened some more.

  The night air calmed around me and returned to silence. Whatever it was, it had moved on.

  As should I, I thought. I took a step back from the garden towards the car. It would be silly to try and talk this over with Anna in the middle of the night. Some time on her own might just be what the doctor ordered. Give her a chance to achieve some perspective. I could give her a call in the morning. Arrange a meeting in which we could discuss how we kept the boys in both our lives.

  But something held me there, staring at the house that had been the scene of so much pleasure, and ultimately so much pain. Resentment and anger was a weight that held me to the spot. It was all I could do not to bellow out at the windows every expletive my mind could think of.

  I deserved none of her anger. None of her abuse. I was a good father. A good husband.

  You didn’t deserve me, bitch, I wanted to shout out, without caring who heard. But the new Andy Boyd didn’t scream out in pain. The new Andy Boyd took action.

  I stayed standing where I was for I don’t know how long, anger stiffening my fists.

  Small fingers woke me as they paraded along the bridge of my nose and across my forehead. No, no, I heard myself mumble. Where was I? What was happening? Did I just have my hands round Anna’s throat?

  ‘Daddy. Sleeping.’ Ryan whispered in my ear.

  ‘What…’ I struggled up from the fog of sleep, an image lingered from my dreams. Anna’s face red as she fought for breath.

  I shook my head as if that action might rid my head of the picture.

  ‘Daddy, wake,’ said Ryan.

  I opened one eye, carefully, in case he decided that his fingers should take a walk inside the lid. Ryan’s face was so close his button nose was pressing against mine.

  Whoa, it was only a dream, but I could still hear Anna’s panicked fight for air.

  ‘Daddy, wake.’ Ryan pushed off my back and sat by my side. He smiled when he saw me focus on him and his face changed from merely beautiful to angelic. I turned over onto my back and replied with a smile of my own.

  ‘Give Daddy a cuddle,’ I ordered, and Ryan, with a contented sigh that echoed mine, obliged.

  ‘What about me?’ Pat leaned over from the other side and blew a raspberry on my face.

  ‘Right, boy.’ I jumped up, grabbed him and tickled him until he begged me to stop. Ryan, not quite sure of the technique, joined in. His efforts received a few grunts of pain from Pat.

  ‘Ryan. That’s sore.’ So I switched my attentions to him.

  The sound of a child in mid-giggle has to be one of the most pleasing sounds known to man. I defy anyone to keep their expression stern when they hear that sound.

  ‘Boys.’ Mum spoke from the door. ‘Your father has to get to work. Come and get your breakfast.’ They were off the bed in a flash of pink skin and cotton. ‘Andy, there’s a clean towel in the bathroom and the shower is on.’

  ‘Did you…?’

  ‘Slept like a log,’ she interrupted, the lie of her statement proven by the tired cast of her eyes. Probably stayed up all night worrying. I felt terrible and promised myself that this solution would be temporary.

  By the time I had showered and shaved the boys were hunkered before the TV. The
ir mother and I normally only allowed half an hour of TV in the morning, but Gran said they could watch it for as long as they wanted this time, because it was special.

  With a mouthful of cornflakes, I spoke to my mother quietly. ‘Are you okay to watch the boys today?’

  Without taking her eyes from them for even a second she answered, ‘Just you try and stop me.’

  As I chewed through my rushed breakfast, I considered what had happened the night before. Why had Anna changed her mind? Was it anything to do with the phone call she received?

  ‘Nobody’ was her answer when I asked who’d called.

  Mum interrupted my thoughts. ‘Jim’s delighted to hear about the boys, by the way. He phoned while you were in the shower and I filled him in.’

  I spooned in another mouthful of cornflakes. Nodded.

  ‘He said you should have told him cos he went round there last night to have a word.’

  ‘He did what?’ I stood up so fast I became light-headed.

  ‘S’all right.’ Mum held out a placatory hand. ‘He said the house was in darkness. No one answered so he went back home.’

  ‘I fucking told him…’

  ‘Andy.’ Mum looked at the boys, who were both looking up at me wide-eyed. I rarely swore in front of them. ‘Nothing happened. He didn’t speak to her. And don’t worry, I already told him he was an idiot.’

  ‘And I’ll be telling him as well.’

  A quick brush of my teeth and it was time to go to work. Scooby Doo was running away from another stupid man in a stupid monster costume when I said goodbye to the boys. I leaned down and kissed them both on the forehead.

  ‘You boys be good boys for your gran today, okay?’

  Pat nodded his head but didn’t move his eyes from the screen.

  Ryan turned to me. ‘Dad, you be a good dad.’ Then he stood up and followed me to the door.

  Before I left I knelt down to speak to him. ‘Daddy will be home soon. I just need to go and make us some pennies, okay?’

  He nodded his assent, his large eyes grave with understanding. ‘Pennies,’ he repeated. ‘Where’s Mummy.’

  ‘Mummy’s gone away for a couple of days, so Dad and Gran are going to look after you.’

  He nodded again, but this time he was not so happy. His face lengthened, his bottom lip curved into an arch and his face coloured bright red.

  ‘I want Mummy,’ he squealed. ‘I want my Mummyyyyyy.’

  Mum rushed to his side. ‘There, there. We can’t have this lovely wee boy in tears this morning. Let’s go and see the birds in the garden. Let’s watch them feeding off the table.’ She motioned with her head that I should go and mouthed that it would be all right.

  By the time I’d straightened my tie and put on my jacket I could hear Ryan’s sweet soprano from the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ he said. ‘Big birds, lots birds.’

  I hurried from the house, his sugared tones and trusting eyes haunting me as I thought of the lie I had told him.

  At work, people fell over themselves to offer thanks that I was back at work. No one ever believed I was guilty, of course, and no one could believe that Malcolm had been so devious. The real reason for his deceit was not yet public knowledge and if I had anything to do with it that would remain the case. I was surprised at Roy Campbell not supplying the information, but perhaps after our little head-to-head the previous day, he knew what reaction he might get from me.

  Sheila was in the branch. Roy had left her to finalise the audit on Malcolm and to tie off any loose ends. She smiled her support from the other side of the room, content to let everyone else say their piece.

  When the doors opened for business on the dot of nine, two men in dark suits, with matching dark expressions, were the first people inside. I blinked and held onto the counter as I read the purpose in their movement and realised who they must be.

  The oldest of the pair showed me his police warrant card. ‘Mr Andrew Boyd?’ I nodded.

  ‘Could we have a word in private, sir?’

  ‘Of course, Officer. Follow me.’

  My eyes swept over the pair of them. The older man had a thick brush of grey hair. His face was long, thin, well lined and bereft of expression. His eyes were luminous with intelligence. They bored into me and I was immediately struck with the worry that this man could read my thoughts the moment they occurred to me.

  The younger policeman was blond, his hair cropped fashionably. His eyes wore the same intelligence, but seasoned with a conceit, as he accepted all the admiring glances from the female members of staff as we walked through the banking hall and into my office.

  As soon as the door was shut, Grey-hair wasted no time.

  ‘Mr Boyd, your wife was found in the early hours of this morning. I’m afraid she’s dead.’

  18

  The radar of familiarity found me a chair, stopping me from collapsing onto the floor.

  ‘Dead?’ I mumbled to the room. ‘Who … are you sure? Anna Boyd?’

  Blond-hair nodded, ‘Yes we’re sure.’ His voice was quiet and respectful, but his eyes wore another badge. He intoned our address, saying that a neighbour had alerted them when they saw that the front door was open, stuck their head in and saw something they’d never forget.

  ‘But how?’ I was beyond tears, beyond shock. ‘But I was with her early last night. She was fine.’ Blond’s eyes were on me like a pair of magnets on a fridge.

  ‘Can you tell us where you were in the early hours of this morning, Mr Boyd?’ asked Grey.

  ‘Anna. Dead. How?’ I asked, unable to process Grey’s question.

  ‘We’re still waiting for the full forensic report,’ replied Grey. ‘Would you like anyone with you at the moment?’

  ‘Anna. Dead,’ I repeated like a mantra, like a spell that would prove the last few minutes to be a lie. This was all a joke, a horrible joke. Anna wasn’t dead. She was lying in her bed as we spoke, reading Hello magazine and sipping her third coffee of the day.

  ‘I’ll just phone her.’ I reached for the phone. ‘You can speak to her.’ My eyes darted from one man to the other. ‘Then you’ll see that this is all a terrible mistake.’ My voice rose into a yell.

  Grey put his hand over mine to replace the receiver. ‘I’m afraid this is no mistake…’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sheila walked into the room, no doubt alerted by my shout.

  ‘Sheila, tell these men. Tell them. Anna’s not dead. She’s sitting up in bed reading. Go on phone her, phone her.’ I could hear the hysteria in my voice, but I didn’t care. They had to believe me.

  ‘Anna’s dead?’ Sheila whispered, her hand moved to cover her throat and an image from this morning’s dream was displayed in my mind like a still from a movie. Like this morning, I again shook my head as if to dislodge it. That was a dream. Only a dream.

  Wasn’t it?

  ‘Can you account for your presence last night, Mr Boyd? Between the hours of midnight and six a.m.?’ asked Grey.

  His voice came towards me out of a tunnel. His mouth moved, the words arrived seconds later.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your wife, Mr Boyd,’ asked Blond.

  ‘Eh? Harm? Sheila, tell these men. Tell them.’ I stood up. Felt a charge of guilt as I remembered the moment I was standing outside Anna’s front door. Once again I heard the cry I had dismissed as a fox.

  Could that have been the moment when Anna died?

  If I had gone in, could I have saved her? My legs gave way and I stumbled back onto my chair. Sweat sparked cold and wet the length of my spine.

  Oh my God. Anna.

  Sheila rounded on the policemen, ‘I think Mr Boyd has had enough to take in for the moment, gentlemen. Why don’t you give him some time to come to terms with this before you ask any questions?’

  Blond made as if to say something but was silenced by a look from his colleague.

  ‘Mr Boyd, we will have to intrude on your grief. If not no
w, then later. There are questions we need to ask.’ He looked at his colleague. They seemed to come to some silent agreement. ‘We’ll be back.’

  They walked out.

  ‘Andy, what the hell happened?’ asked Sheila.

  ‘They said Anna’s dead,’ I repeated. ‘She’s dead.’

  I stared at the wall. Pictures of Anna filled my mind, a montage of her smiles, laughs and kisses. Blink. I told myself, blink. Strangely, no thought of the violent side of her nature corrupted this gallery of images. It was as if my brain was already trying to sanitise her memory. Anna pregnant and shovelling chocolate into her mouth, Anna cradling Ryan just moments after he was born, Anna playing with the boys.

  My hand shot to my mouth. ‘The boys. Oh my god, the boys.’ Only when I thought of the consequences to the boys did my emotion crash through. A sob escaped my mouth.

  I can remember sliding forward on my chair and landing on the floor. I can remember thinking that the pain was as much physical as mental. I can remember rocking on my knees as I tried to soothe it.

  Sheila knelt by my side, ‘Oh Andy.’ Her arm rested on my shoulder.

  We rocked together for what seemed hours. It may have only been minutes, for the place we crouched in held no sense of time. There were no clocks, no machines here. We were two animals, one trying to assuage the other’s pain..

  ‘Andy. C’mon let’s sit up. My knees are killing me.’ Sheila said at last, leading me to a chair.

  Gradually my motor functions returned. Coherent thoughts pushed through the haze in my mind.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Coffee, please.’ No sooner, or so it felt, than the words issued from my mouth, hot ceramic was placed in my hand.

  ‘She was okay last night, when I left.’ My mind began to question the events of the proceeding evening. ‘I left around nine. We talked, she let me have the boys…’

  ‘You have to go and speak to the police. Tell them everything.’

  I heard the tension in her voice. ‘Why would I go and tell them? If they want me they know where to find me.’