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The Liar’s Daughter (ARC)

Page 20

by Claire Allan


  that I need to get away.

  My skin is crawling. It feels like a separate entity to me, with

  a mind of its own, burning, and I swear if I could tear it off,

  I absolutely would. I would tear it off and leave it to bleed

  onto the snow-covered ground.

  Alex’s voice fades into the background, the sting of hailstones

  hitting my face and hands giving me something to focus on as

  I just keep running.

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  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Ciara

  Now

  I am emotionally numb. My heart is beating and I can feel the

  thrum of it in my chest. I am aware of my inhalation and

  exhalation. I’m aware that there is a hair clip digging into the

  right side of my head, pulling my hair too tight. I’m aware that

  my feet are freezing. That black court shoes were not the best

  choice for a day as cold as this. I can feel, physically, all that is going on around me.

  But I am numb. I cannot feel right now. I cannot grieve. I

  cannot be angry. I cannot sympathise with my mother and

  Kathleen and their horror at the scene at my father’s graveside.

  I cannot deal with the people asking questions. I cannot cry. I

  cannot allow myself to feel at all because if I do, I fear I will

  become so very angry that I will never be able to put that

  anger back in its box and put it away.

  It will become who I am.

  I know Heidi isn’t acting rationally. I know that Heidi is

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  damaged. But I never thought in a million years that she would make such a scene at a graveside. Her anger, her fear was so

  visceral, so raw that I was scared of what she might do. If it

  hadn’t been for Alex hauling her back into the car, I dread to

  think how far she may have gone.

  The looks on the faces of our fellow mourners as she screeched

  and screamed like a banshee will stay with me forever. The

  horror. As if people didn’t have enough to talk about. To gossip

  about.

  Although I imagine from now Heidi will become the focus

  of their gossip. They will be watching her. We will all be watching her.

  DI Bradley had come to speak to me at the graveside after

  all the other mourners had left. I’d wanted some time with my

  father, you see, now that he was underground. Now that I knew

  I would never see his face again. I’d wanted to tell him I was

  sorry. Sorry that I wasn’t stronger. Sorry that I ever allowed

  myself to be caught up in his horrible life again. I wanted to

  tell him not to expect fresh flowers to be placed on his grave.

  I would not be standing there and weeping. He was gone and

  I was happy about that.

  The other mourners had wandered off, tongues wagging, no

  doubt. My mother and Kathleen had taken shelter in the car,

  both of them borderline hysterical. I had been whispering my

  final thoughts to my father on the wind, when I heard footsteps

  approach. I looked up to see DI Bradley, his hands plunged

  deep in the pockets of his long black coat, his collar turned up

  to protect him from the elements, standing a short distance

  away.

  ‘I don’t mean to disturb you,’ he said. ‘I can wait until you’re

  done.’

  I looked at down at the hastily covered over grave in front

  of me. It had been covered with a wooden lid for now, which

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  was decked in the wreathes people had sent to offer their sympathy. The mound of dirt, turning into claggy muck in the

  sleet and hail, would be pushed in on top of him later. The

  black marble headstone, bearing Natalie’s name, declaring her

  a beloved daughter, mother and partner in gold letters, would

  soon bear Joe’s name, too. In that space at the bottom. It was

  as if it had always been waiting for him.

  I blinked and shook my head. ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I have nothing

  more to say to him. Not today, anyway.’

  ‘This must be very hard for you all,’ DI Bradley said.

  I knew that his words were not just those of a police officer

  interested in catching the bad guy. These are the words of

  someone who sees the human tragedy playing out in front of

  him for what it is. A shitshow of a mess that is destroying

  everyone.

  ‘It’s not easy,’ I told him with a shrug.

  ‘Heidi was very upset.’

  ‘She was,’ I say. ‘She didn’t want him buried here. I didn’t

  realise. Maybe I should’ve.’

  I didn’t want him thinking poorly of me. Thinking that what

  Heidi had said was true and that I could legitimately be that

  cruel without so much as a second thought.

  ‘We’ve looked into her history. Her mental health history,’

  he says. ‘She has had a rough time. But she has been stable for

  quite some time.’

  ‘She has, I think. As I’ve told you before, we never actually

  spent a lot of time in each other’s company. Very little, in fact.

  Especially in recent years.’

  ‘But she was responsible for the majority of care your father

  received, especially as his health deteriorated.’

  I blush. There was a judgement in his statement. How awful

  was I that I didn’t do my bit.

  ‘You know, my relationship with my father could best be

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  described as complicated. We didn’t have the time to work on it.’ I looked back to the gravestone. I’m not sure having all the

  time in the world would have made an ounce of difference.

  ‘Things were complicated. Things are complicated. I have to

  live with that. But it doesn’t mean I did anything to hurt him.’

  ‘No, of course it doesn’t,’ DI Bradley said. ‘I didn’t mean to

  imply anything. This isn’t an official visit. I’m just offering my sympathies.’

  I nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We will get to the bottom of this, you know,’ he said, shaking

  my hand and walking away.

  I didn’t know whether to take it as a threat or a promise. Or

  both.

  I let the conversation run through my head all the way to

  Mum’s house, wishing we could just go home to our own place.

  But it’s expected we’ll go to Mum’s, to join the other mourners

  for tea and sandwiches for the wake. She’ll be so cross if we

  don’t.

  Stella just holds my hand. She doesn’t ask questions. And

  when we arrive, she doesn’t question me when I say I need

  some space. I climb the stairs and sit in my old bedroom – a

  room my mother long ago transformed into a ‘sewing room’.

  She has an upcycled Parker Knoll chair by the window and I

  sit here doing my best to hang on to the numbness that has

  come over me.

  Heidi hasn’t shown her face. It’s a good thing. If she does I

  don’t think anything in the world will be able to stop the rage<
br />
  from bursting out of me.

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  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Heidi

  Now

  I find myself with the two people in the world I have always

  felt safe and secure with.

  My grandparents live in a small, always overheated, flat in

  sheltered accommodation close to the city centre. They’ve lived

  there for more than ten years now and even though I wish

  they had somewhere with a little garden to potter about in, or

  somewhere just further away from the sometimes antisocial

  activity of the city centre, they seem happy.

  They’ve done their best to make the one-bed flat their own.

  Crammed as many of their possessions onto shelves or in

  cupboards so that there is still an air of the house I used to

  visit as a child about the place. Pride of place on the wall of

  their living room is a large framed photograph of my mother

  and me.

  Professionally taken, in the early Nineties, it looks dated. A heavy wooden frame. Soft blurring around our faces. My mother’s hair,

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  teased and backcombed. Her lip gloss a shiny pale pink – I can still remember the sweet smell of that gloss and how it would

  leave sticky marks on my cheeks when she kissed me. I’m there,

  all of three years old, hair much curlier than it is now, tied in

  two pigtails with pale blue ribbon, and a pretty, flouncy,

  completely over-the-top party dress. We are looking not at the

  camera but at each other, and we are both grinning.

  I wish I could say I remember the day it was taken but I

  don’t. Still, every time I see that picture in my grandparents’

  flat, part of me feels like that day says everything that needs to be said about my relationship with my mother.

  I’m looking at it now, sitting on a small brown two-seater

  sofa while my grandparents, perched either side of me in their

  armchairs, look between me and each other, waiting for me to

  speak. My granny has wrapped me in a blanket after roughly

  towel-drying my hair. She gave me her housecoat to wear while

  she hung my coat, dress and tights around the various radiators

  in the flat, adding to the stuffy, humid feel to the place.

  I’m wearing a pair of my grandad’s thick woollen socks and

  I think my teeth have finally stopped chattering.

  They know Joe’s funeral was this morning, but neither of

  them are in good enough health that they could attend. My

  grandfather is now entirely immobile. His days are spent being

  hoisted by carers from his adapted bed to his hospital-issue bed

  and back again. He is a prisoner in his own house and, increas-

  ingly, a prisoner to his own mind. There are days when he

  doesn’t so much as utter a word, Granny tells me. Other days

  he gets agitated wondering when ‘his Natalie’ will come to

  visit.

  Today, he is staring at me through cloudy eyes, his jaw slack.

  He is trying to place me. To remember who I am and what I

  am to him, and I’m reminded once more of just how cruel life

  can be.

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  Granny does her best to be positive, but she is broken. She has been broken since the day my mother died. I do as much

  as I can to help them, but over the last few weeks that has been

  very little. Still, they never make me feel guilty. I think they

  carry their own guilt at not being able to take care of me after

  Mum died. We, all of us, are weighed down by guilt.

  When I arrived at their door I was barely coherent. My

  grandmother didn’t ask questions. She just pulled me in through

  the door and set about making me feel better, looking after me

  as if I was still that scrappy little girl who had clung to her legs on the day my mother was buried. I don’t know how I’m going

  to tell her about Mum’s grave. I don’t know how she will react.

  I decide just to blurt it out.

  ‘Granny,’ I start. ‘I’m really sorry, but I have some bad news.

  They put him in Mammy’s grave with her.’

  I start to cry and I can’t even bring myself to look at my

  grandmother’s face. I hear a sharp intake of breath and a whis-

  pered ‘Jesus, Mary and St Joseph’ and that tells me what I need

  to know.

  I lift my head. ‘I don’t know how it happened. I know you

  were both to be buried with her. I don’t know if Ciara did it

  to spite us all but she says she didn’t and I’m just so sorry . . .’

  I crumple.

  ‘Hush, pet.’

  My grandmother’s voice is soft. I feel the gentle pat of her

  hand on my knee.

  ‘I don’t want you getting upset over it. I suppose he’d every

  right to be buried with her.’

  She is trying to soothe me but I can’t help but notice the

  defeated tone in her voice. Her hands are shaking just ever so

  slightly, enough to give it away that she is struggling. As if her life isn’t hard enough already.

  I know that I will never, ever tell her just why he had no

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  right to ever be near to my mother again. Why he should never, even in death, be allowed near another person again. It would

  kill her.

  If she knew – God, if she knew what happened it would

  destroy her altogether. She deserves to believe she did the best

  she could for me all those years ago when I was left in his care.

  For the first time ever, I’m grateful for my grandfather’s

  dementia. None of this can touch him now. But my poor granny.

  She wraps her arms around me. Everything about her embrace

  screams comfort and security. The familiar smell of her talcum

  powder, the softness of her jumper. The feel of her skin, warm

  and soft. I let her rock me and I revel in the kisses she places

  on my head, and how she tells me that everything will be okay

  over and over again.

  ‘You poor pet,’ she soothes. ‘You’ve not had it easy, but you

  have to focus on the good things now. On Alex and that wee

  baby of yours. Don’t be fretting on behalf of your grandad or

  me. We’ve been through enough battles to know we’ll win the

  war as long as we have each other.’

  Her words should soothe me completely, of course, but all I

  can think is just how awful all this is. I’m not going to let them get away with this. Ciara is not going to get away with this.

  I’ve had enough.

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  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Heidi

  Now

  Guilt, or a sense of duty, or a sense of not wanting to make

  things worse with Alex, brings me back to Marie’s house. I’ve

  been AWOL for two hours, enough time for the small number

  of mourners who came back to the house to have had their

  fill of tea and sandwiches and gone home.

  I’ve seen our
car outside, so I know Alex is there. He will

  be angry with me. I know that. Angry and worried. I’ve seen

  the missed calls on my phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to

  call him back. What I need to say to him can’t be said over the

  phone.

  I’m sure I hear Alex’s voice from the living room, so I pop

  my head around the door. Two sets of eyes, neither of them

  belonging to my husband, stare back at me.

  ‘Are you feeling better?’ a woman with a mass of messy red

  curls and too much make-up on her face asks me.

  I don’t know who she is. I nod and thank her for her concern.

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  I hear Alex again, realise his voice is coming from the kitchen, so I walk that way.

  ‘I don’t know why she would say that,’ I hear Ciara say.

  Her voice is thick with emotion. I press myself close to the

  wall to listen, even though there is no way they would be able

  to see me from where I am anyway.

  ‘I know this is really distressing,’ I hear Kathleen speak. ‘But

  try not to let it, or her, annoy you. The poor girl hasn’t had it

  easy. Losing her mum so early. And whether we like it or not,

  Joe was the only father she ever knew, so here she is without

  the pair of them and with a new baby to deal with, too. She

  might be finding it very hard to cope.’

  I hear Ciara sniff. ‘But, she’s not the only one who’s had it

  tough. It’s almost as if she’s trying to make out I have some

  sort of vendetta against her. That I’m trying to make her life

  hard. And I swear to you all, I’m not.

  ‘She wants everyone to think I did it, I know that. She wants

  everyone to think I was capable of killing my own father. I

  think she’s losing the run of herself and is determined to drive

  us all mad in the process.’

  I bristle. I’ve done no such thing. I’ve not tried to heap blame

  on her at all. If anything, she has been setting me up for a fall.

  I’m disgusted, angry at the tone in her voice. If I didn’t know

  categorically that she was lying then I might even be convinced

  myself. If there was an Oscar for best performance at a family

  funeral, I was sure she would be a contender. I roll my eyes,

  anger making me immune to her sniffs and sobs.

  But then I hear it. An unmistakably male voice. Alex.

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I’m really starting to worry about her,’ he

 

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