The Other Side Of The Wall: A Gripping Psychological Thriller

by Andrea Mara

  “Pity that didn’t carry through to the rest of his life,” Kate mutters.

  Laura purses her lips but says nothing.

  Kate hadn’t really expected an answer – her father falls into the Do Not Discuss category of family conversations.

  “Why are you asking about Mrs Daly?”

  “No reason, she just popped into my head. I saw someone earlier who reminded me of her, that’s all.”

  Mrs Daly would be gone back to Carnross in the morning and Bernard would hardly recognise her mum, nor she him.

  “I wonder if she’s still alive – she wasn’t the worst, you know. Nosy and desperately competitive, but she was kind too. She was very good to me at the end, at a time when everyone else was crossing the road to avoid me.” Another topic normally in the Do Not Discuss box.

  Kate can’t decide if this is a healthy twist in the emotional valve, or old ground best left untouched.

  “Anyway, washing won’t fold itself – will you give me a hand?” Laura says, making the decision for her.

  Kate nods and picks up a sheet, pushing Mrs Daly and Carnross out of her mind.

  Chapter 22

  Kate – June, 1984

  Hugging her knees to her chest, Kate continues to ignore her mother’s silent appeal to get up and join the other girls. She’s not moving from this bench. How can her mother not see they don’t want her there anyway? Her mother digs her gently in the ribs and mouths “Go on!” then turns back to the woman on her other side – a mum from Miller’s class. They’re talking about a picnic now, about getting the whole class together for a day out. Oh my God, please get me out of this dump, Kate thinks, stretching out her legs. A picnic with a class of eight-year-olds! There is literally nothing she’d rather do less. She looks up from under her fringe at the girls across at the railings. They catch her looking, and now they’re giggling. As soon as she’s sixteen, she’s out of this dump and back to her real friends in Dublin. Only six years to go.

  Her mum elbows her again, and she gets off the bench, but only to stand to the side, out of her reach.

  She looks over at Miller – he’s sitting on top of the slide, not doing anything. There’s a queue of kids behind him, and they’re starting to get cross.

  Kate walks over. “Come on, Miller, down the slide – there’s people waiting behind! Good boy – let’s go!”

  Still he doesn’t move.

  “It’s very high – you don’t have to slide down if you don’t want to – you can go back down the ladder. We can ask the others to let you past. Is that what you want to do?”

  Miller nods at her and turns to make his way back down the ladder. The kids behind him are not impressed. An older boy says something about the “dumb new kid” and everyone laughs. Kate’s face burns. She reaches up for her brother and helps him down, and they walk together to their mother who is still discussing the picnic – they’ll have it on the last day of school before summer break. How completely mortifying. As if she and Miller want to hang out with these horrible local brats – how can her mum not see?

  Walking home, she tries to talk her mother out of it, but she is determined.

  “It’s a good way for Miller to get to know the kids in his class – you know how hard he’s finding it to settle in.”

  “Yes, I do, Mum – because they’re rotten. Spending even more time with them isn’t going to make things better.”

  “Oh Kate, it will – it’s always hard when you move somewhere new but we have to try. It’s hard for me, too, remember – I had to leave my job and all my friends to come here.” She gives Kate’s arm a light squeeze. “Come on – do it for Miller. Once the other boys get to know him, they’ll see he’s just like everyone else and they’ll start to talk to him and play with him at school too.”

  Kate kicks a stone into the gutter. “He’s not really just like everyone else though, is he?”

  “Of course he is. It just takes time. And you’ll make friends too.”

  “I have no interest in making friends – I’ll be moving back to Dublin in a few years to my actual friends.”

  Her mum sighs and puts her arm around her. Kate shrugs it off and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Their footsteps are the only sound on the cracked pavement, and their long shadows cut three silent figures making their way to the very last cottage on Main Street, Carnross.

  Chapter 23

  Kate – Friday, July 22nd 2016

  Kate is kneeling on the wing-tipped chair, cleaning her mother’s best lamp – the ornate brass one she’d taken with her all those years ago when they left the cottage in Carnross. A monstrosity really by modern lighting standards, but a reasonable fit for the sitting room in the B&B. Mrs O’Shea certainly seems fond of it – she’s hovering by the wing-tipped chair, waiting for Kate to finish so she can sit down with her knitting. Kate keeps polishing. Maybe Mrs O’Shea will go to her bedroom for a lie-down if she takes long enough. The only downside of a B&B is the guests really – it would be lovely to be here all summer if only there were no guests. Kate keeps polishing and Mrs O’Shea keeps hovering. Neither speak. And in fairness, the lamp does need a good clean – it looks like it hasn’t been touched in a while. The unofficial standoff comes to an end when Mrs O’Shea turns on her heel and walks out – unwilling, it would appear, to trade down for a spot on the couch.

  Kate waits till she hears her door close upstairs, then sets aside her cloth and flops down on the coveted chair. Her phone rings just then, as though it had been waiting for her to take a break. Or waiting to intrude on her break. It’s Sam. And he’s not coming down this evening.

  “You can’t be serious!” She uncrosses her legs and sits up straight in the chair. How is she going to explain this one to the boys?

  As if reading her mind, Jamie waves in at her from the back garden.

  “Sorry, there’s nothing I can do. I’ll be here in the office till ten o’clock tonight trying to fix this, and there’s no point in driving all the way down tomorrow for just the night.”

  “Sam, you know what, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t know what’s going on with you but you’d better fix it or the boys are going to start thinking we’ve split up.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I’m serious. This is a joke. We may as well be separated when you look at how the last few months have been.”

  “Kate, it’s not months – you’ve only been down there since the end of June.”

  “I’m not just talking about the summer – this has been going on for much longer than that, and you know it. The late nights at work, avoiding the kids’ bedtime, working at weekends – it’s like you’re just not bothered any more.”

  Seth looks in the window at her and smiles, then runs back to his game.

  She lowers her voice. “It makes me feel sick. I always thought this was the kind of thing that happened to other people, not to us.”

  “Kate, nothing is happening to us – it’s just a busy time. I’ll come down next weekend, I promise.”

  “Don’t bother. Seriously, don’t put yourself out. We’re fine. I’ll see you when we’re back in Dublin.” She disconnects the call, and flings the phone across the room onto the couch. Fuck him!Fuck him anyway!

  Running her hands through her hair, she sits in her mother’s sitting room, with no idea what to do next. The overloud sound of pots and pans comes from the kitchen – Laura pretending she didn’t hear. This is what it was like back then during the fights, only their roles are reversed.

  Dust mites dance in the sunlight over the table, and through the window beyond she can see Seth and Jamie still kicking a football. It’s all so idyllic, until you scratch the surface. What does her mother always say? There isn’t a person you wouldn’t love if you could read their story.

  She walks to the window to look out at the boys, then sits down again, head in hands. Laura comes into the room.

  “Are you okay, love?” she asks.

  There’s nothing to say. Kate
shakes her head.

  “Sam not coming down?”

  She shakes her head again.

  Her mother comes and gives her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s hard for him, trying to manage everything – fixing up the house, a busy job – don’t be too tough on him.”

  Kate looks up. “It’s not just that, Mum. He’s been gone for a long time now. When he’s here, he’s not really here. He’s pretending. I can’t describe it properly, but it’s just not the Sam I used to know.”

  “Kate, you’ve got to meet him halfway though.”

  “What do you mean? I’m doing everything I can!”

  “I don’t want you to get defensive, but in all the years you and Sam have been together, you’re the leader and he’s the follower. You’re the boss, he’s the guy putting his coat over the puddle. You shred him to pieces and he comes back for more. I’m just trying to say you don’t always make it easy for him.”

  Kate swivels around in the chair. “I shred him to pieces?”

  “I don’t mean it in a bad way. But when you tell him what’s what or put him in his place, he’s takes it – he’s like a loyal puppy. I don’t mean he’s a pushover but maybe with you, just a little bit, he is . . . Come on love, I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. You’re together twenty years!”

  “I don’t think I put him in his place . . . I suppose I’m a bit bossier than he is, but he’s never minded.”

  “I know that. But I’m saying that the dynamic you’ve developed between you – which has been perfectly fine all these years – may not work so well when you’re trying to bridge a gap or fix something that’s not working. Does that make sense?”

  Kate’s shoulders start to shake, and she bursts into tears – big, ugly tears, the kind she hasn’t cried since she was a teenager, heartsick over Henry Byrne from the year above.

  Laura bends to her level and pulls her into an awkward sideways hug.

  “Remember when we first met?” Kate sobs. “You were horrified that I’d – as you said – ‘picked up one of the customers and at his own aunt’s funeral’ – do you remember?”

  Laura smiles. “I probably made it sound a bit worse than it was. In fairness, it’s not the loveliest ‘how we met’ story I’ve ever heard.”

  Kate can feel a watery smile breaking through too. “Like, it’s not as though I picked him up at the graveside. And in fairness, he picked me up – I was the innocent waitress.”

  “You had your eye on Michael at the time if I remember – am I right?”

  “Ha – a little. But Michael wasn’t interested in me. And I went for the coat-over-puddle guy. And now . . . now I just don’t know.”

  A ball hits the window, breaking the conversation.

  “I’ll go,” says Laura. “You sit here and I’ll bring you in a cup of tea.”

  “Thanks, Mum, but I think I’m going straight to wine tonight – I’ll sit here for a minute if that’s okay, then I’ll deal with the boys. And Mum?”

  Laura turns back from the kitchen.

  “Thank you.”

  “Boys . . .” She plucks at something pink and sticky dried into her jeans. Strawberry yogurt maybe. “There’s something I have to tell you . . . Dad can’t make it down this weekend.”

  She waits for the tears but none come. Two relatively disinterested faces look up from their books.

  “Was he meant to come down tonight?” Seth asks, cocking his head to one side.

  “Well, he tries to come down at the weekends when he can – but he had to work tonight.”

  “Okay,” Seth says, then looks down at his book again.

  “Jamie, would you like me to read for you?” Kate asks.

  “Two stories, Mum – fair? Cos Dad’s not here?” he says, milking her concern but showing none of his own.

  “Fair, Jamie.” She starts to read.

  It’s not the best wine she’s had all summer but it’ll do. It’s one of those supermarket special offers – not the proper offers where the good wine is a bit cheaper than usual, but the ones where they sell off cheap wine for next to nothing and hope nobody notices the taste. And in a way, it’s an appropriate wine for the night that’s in it.

  Mrs O’Shea is the only guest and she’s safely tucked up in her room with her knitting, so Laura and Kate have the remote control to themselves. Most guests don’t come near the sitting room at night, but Mrs O’Shea can go either way. And she doesn’t like anything violent or dark on TV, or any swearing, or anything that’s not a documentary.

  “Did I mention . . .” Laura says carefully, in a way that suggests she most certainly didn’t mention, “that Miller is calling tomorrow?”

  Miller. That’s all Kate needs on top of no Sam. She rolls her eyes.

  “Kate, come on, he’s your brother. Please.”

  “I know, Mum, but it’s hard work when he’s here. He doesn’t say a word. He just hovers. The boys still never know what to make of him.” She looks down, not meeting Laura’s eye.

  “Well, what if he took them out somewhere and gave you a bit of time off? I’m stuck here with that new family arriving, but Miller could take them to the beach and you could go into town?”

  Kate sits forward, rubbing her middle fingers up and down her forehead for what feels like a long time.

  “Kate? Do you want to do that?”

  Without looking up, and almost under her breath, Kate answers, “No.”

  “Well, I think it would be nice – it might be good for Miller.”

  “Maybe it would be, but no.” Still she doesn’t look at her mother. “Mum, I don’t want him on his own with the kids.”

  “That’s not fair.” Laura’s voice is quiet now too. “What happened wasn’t his fault, and he was only a child for God’s sake.”

  Kate looks out between her fingers at the small TV, the dusty, colourful books behind it, and the antique fireplace that gives the whole room its personality. She counts the candles on the mantelpiece. Seven. There are seven candles. What’s that Danish thing about being cosy and lighting candles – hygge?

  “Kate.”

  “I know that, Mum. And I’m not talking about what happened – or at least not just that. I mean what it did to him – the person he is today. He’s my brother and I love him, but I am not sending him off with the boys. Miller’s your son and you are looking out for him – I get that – but Seth and Jamie are mine, and I’m looking out for them – above all else.”

  Laura is twisting a button on her cardigan around and around.

  Kate turns her head to watch. It’s going to pop off if she keeps turning. Her mother’s unmanicured nails are short – no way to grow them when you wash dishes all day, she always says. She stops twisting and lets the button go.

  “His life has been ruined by something over which he had almost no control – he was eight. He was only eight.”

  Kate put her hand on Laura’s. “I know, Mum,” she says softly. “But people come through great tragedies – look at Sam and what happened to him. People come through. Somehow, Miller got left behind, and there’s nothing we can do to change that now.” She swirls her wine in the glass and takes another sip. “I’ll always be there for him, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend none of it happened.”

  Chapter 24

  Kate – Tuesday, July 26th

  Fragments of a fight about Rice Krispies drift from the kitchen to the hall but Kate can’t really hear them – she can only see the letter, stark white against the red carpet. It seemed to make a noise when she dropped it, though of course that’s not possible – it’s only paper, no matter what’s written on it. The torn envelope is still on the table. Her name and address have been typed – it looks like a business letter, except for the stamp. Pull yourself together, she thinks, as she stoops to pick up the letter. She closes her eyes for a moment then forces herself to read again.

  Dear Kate,

  I don’t know you very well, and I hope you’ll forgive this intrusion, but I thought
you should know what’s been going on while you’ve been away. I’m sorry to say your husband has a woman staying in the house – I see her coming in with him late at night, and leaving early in the morning. And although you may imagine there’s a good explanation and nothing untoward is happening, I’m afraid I’ve seen them arm in arm and kissing. I don’t do this to upset you, but I don’t think it’s fair that you’re being left in the dark. You should know what kind of man your husband is.

  Yours,

  A Wellwisher

  She sinks to the floor, trying to make sense of it. Sam wouldn’t cheat. He just wouldn’t. Though he did once. But that was back before they were married, and long before they had kids. He wouldn’t risk everything for a midlife fling – would he? And in their house?