Familiar Strangers

by Jackie Walsh

  Moving the chair closer to the bed, he tells me to sit down. I’m like a robot, doing what I’m told because I don’t really know what I should be doing.

  Danny nods, letting me know he’s grateful I came, probably praying I won’t say anything, not here, not now.

  After a few minutes I realize I can’t hear their voices. I can see them, both of them, lips moving, heads nodding, tears flowing, but whatever they’re saying is floating around the room, landing everywhere but in my ears. All I can hear is me asking myself, why did I come here? What am I planning to do? Is Danny the killer?

  Eventually Danny shakes me, then tells me that he and Dad are going to the coffee room to give me time on my own with Mom. Time for what, Danny? But I say nothing, watching as they drag themselves from the room. I haven’t looked at her yet.

  Slowly I let my eyes travel from her feet up to her face. Her shrunken, unrecognizable face. Her eyes are closed. Short wisps of breath leave her mouth every few seconds, the only sign that life is still clinging on. Her hand is resting on top of the sheet where Dad must have been holding it. Not really knowing why, I put her hand in mine and feel her cold waxy skin against my own. Then I squeeze it, this hand, the hand that fed me, bathed me, brushed my hair. The hand that wiped my tears, soothed my pains. The hand that took me.

  I pull my hand away for a moment, breathing heavily, sweat gathering on my skin. What am I doing here? This woman abducted me. I want to leave, run away.

  I look at her face again and this time I imagine the smile, the one that greeted me every morning, those big blue eyes. I feel the heat that wrapped itself around my body with every hug. I hear her soft voice whispering that she loves me – hear her singing, laughing, dancing. Why do I still love her?

  Suddenly I know why I’m here. I came to tell her that I know.

  * * *

  The cross on the bedside locker is flickering in the light of the candle. Jesus, hangs here, hands and feet nailed. I feel like that. Like someone is torturing me. I look at his face, the calm face, forgiving us our sins. Then I look at Mom’s. Did she know what she was doing, or was she so distraught from the death of her baby that she just panicked? Was it too late afterwards to admit what she had done? Everything had fallen into place nicely, with Dad being away. She probably sent him photos of me during the year, so I’d look familiar when he returned. Did she spend night after night lying in her bed, sleepless, imagining that knock on the door, the knock that never came?

  Glancing away from the dying woman, I let my head sink back into my shoulders and stare at the ceiling. This nightmare belonged to everyone, not just me; Danny and Mom as well, and Katie Collins, and my real mother. One moment of madness rerouting the lives of so many. What were you thinking, Mom? What was going on in your head? I wish I could talk to her now. But I can’t, I’ll never know what she was thinking that day. Did postpartum depression precipitate her madness, the death of Rebecca, sending her into a frenzy. Or did she act with cold calculation to ease Danny’s lifetime of regret? Whatever the reason, and maybe it was all of these things, I’ll never know.

  Outside in the corridor a trolley screeches as it passes by, reminding me where I am, that Dad and Danny will be back soon. I have only a few moments to do what I want to do. Leaning forward, I move my lips close to her ears.

  ‘I know what you did. I know you abducted me.’

  My heart swells as I smell her death closing in on me, her shallow breaths moving further apart. Mom is leaving. Suddenly I start to shiver all over, my teeth chattering, my hands shaking.

  Taking her hand, I press it to my face and feel the dry skin scrape my cheek. I loved this woman, I love this woman. My tears fall onto her face.

  ‘I forgive you, Mom.’

  Gently at first, then stronger, her hand squeezes mine. It only lasts a few seconds, but it’s enough.

  ‘Mom… Mom!’ I cry, letting my face fall onto hers, feeling her last breath on my lips.

  * * *

  When the door opens, Nurse Lucy walks in, with Danny and Dad following behind. Danny stares at me, wondering will I burst this bubble of sadness that unites us. He seems more interested in me than his mom.

  The nurse moves to the bed and I step away, turning my back on everything and everyone. I’m here trying to blank it all out, but Dad’s sobbing follows me. There’s no escape.

  The nurse’s whisper is a small sound, big enough to destroy everything in its path.

  ‘She’s gone.’

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  The two soldiers of grief lean against the wall. Danny with his arm draped across my father’s shoulder. Both faces blank with disbelief. She’s gone. Nancy Wall is gone.

  Nurse Lucy is inside with some people from the funeral parlor, arranging the body so it can be taken away and prepared for the wake. The funeral will take place in two days’ time at St. Brendan’s. The body will lie in wait at Dad’s house the previous night. I’ve been told all of this and yet it feels unbelievable. Like she got away with it, bowed out just when the shit was hitting the fan. Left the rest of us behind to try and fit all the pieces of her destructive jigsaw into place.

  Outside the window a tree sways back and forth, its roots keeping it in place when all it seems to want to do is get away. I am that tree, stuck to this slip proof flooring, wanting to run, my roots keeping me here. Part of me is sorry now that I told her I forgave her. I haven’t forgiven her, but something came over me while I was in there by her side. A kind of peace, brought on by the numbing ambience of the room. It seemed to seep into my soul, melt my anger.

  But the anger is back now, brewing beneath the surface. How can Danny be so cool about all this?

  In the distance I see Joanna rushing down the corridor, preened to perfection as usual, but as she gets closer I see her red eyes, the stress carved into lines across her forehead.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Danny,’ she says, hugging her husband before she gives my dad a hug.

  Then she notices me standing at the opposite wall.

  ‘Oh, Becca,’ she cries. ‘I’m so sorry, Becca.’ She rushes towards me, flinging her arms out. I hug her back, feeling fake. This can’t go on any longer. My mind is telling me to say it now, get it over with; tell Dad I’m not his, that Nancy Wall is not my mother. But something is stopping me. I know that if I say it now, there’s no turning back. The whole world will explode around me.

  After tossing thought after thought around my head, I decide to wait, to think about it, take control, like Jeff said. Pick my moment.

  When Danny catches my eye I give him a hard stare, reminding him of the pain I’m going through. He moves over to my side and whispers in my ear.

  ‘Don’t crack now, Becca. Please, hang in there, you’re doing great.’

  Doing great? What the fuck does he mean?

  ‘I have to go,’ I say, walking away from Danny, from Dad, from Joanna.

  Barry is standing outside the front door when I rush out with tears streaming down my face.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he says, moving to the wall and beckoning me to follow. For some reason I trust this man and without thinking I tell him everything that happened, everything that led to me being stripped of my identity. Barry listens without interference offering his help if I need it. When we’re finished talking, I walk away feeling better. But Something is niggling at me. Something Detective Turner said. I take out my phone and call her.

  ‘Detective Turner. I need to see you.’

  * * *

  She’s sitting waiting on me when I arrive, her stiff dark eyed stare displaying unrelenting confidence.

  ‘You wanted to see me,’ she says.

  ‘Yes, I wanted to ask you about the DNA sample you mentioned when we last spoke. I have no recollection of giving you any sample?’

  Turner stretches her back into the chair.

  ‘Well, Becca, we didn’t ask you for a sample, we got Dr. Josie Reilly to do that.’

  What? I can’t believe what she is saying.


  ‘Was the whole clinical trial thing a set up then?’ I say.

  ‘Oh no, that was real, we just asked her to invite you on board.’

  I feel my heart thumping in my chest but not in a nervous way. It’s anger. How was I played like a fool?

  ‘Don’t feel bad, Rebecca, we had to do what we had to do.’

  ‘But you’re no closer, are you?’

  ‘No closer to what?’

  ‘To finding the killer. I guess you know by now it isn’t me but you don’t know who it is, do you?’

  ‘We have our suspects, and yes, you are no longer one of them, but I still need you to answer my questions.’

  What the hell is she going to ask me now? I was the one who came to see her.

  ‘Did you ever find the note? This time, before you answer, remember we will find the killer and if we find out you lied to us, you will be charged.’

  The bitch thinks she’s scaring me, she’s not. After what I’ve been through, it would take a lot more than her threats to scare me.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you ask your brother Danny about it?’

  ‘Yes, he didn’t see it.’

  ‘Your father, Nicholas Wall, did you ask him?’

  ‘Yes, he didn’t see it.’

  ‘Have you seen either of them using a phone that wasn’t their usual one?’

  ‘No.’

  I’m sitting here listening to this woman ask the same questions and expect a different answer. This woman who insisted I produce an alibi for the night of Katie’s murder.

  ‘Did you need the alibi? Or did you know at that point it wasn’t me?’

  She puffs air out of her mouth while placing both her two hands on the table. ‘Rebecca, we had to keep the pressure on you. See what you would tell us.’

  ‘Did you need the fucking alibi?’ I say again. ‘You didn’t, you had it already, didn’t you? From the CCTV at Mattie’s.’ My mind flashes back to Stephen Black shoving me against the wall. The shoe, the belt, the animal.

  Pushing my chair backwards, I head for the door. ‘Next time you want to talk to me call my lawyer.’

  * * *

  My whole body is shaking. I need some water or I’m going to faint. I can’t believe I did that. Turns out Louise has a lot more guts than Becca ever had. Heading down the corridor, I stop to get some water from the vending machine. My mind is in turmoil. She thinks Danny or Dad killed Katie. The problem is… so do I.

  * * *

  Back at Jeff’s, the room feels lonely. I was hoping he’d be here so I could tell him what happened with Turner, tell him how brave I was. Maybe it’s good he isn’t here. I’ve been relying too much on the man over the last few days, I need to do things for myself, make my own decisions. But there is so much to think about, so much to decide, and this feeling of not belonging won’t leave me. I feel separated from everyone else, awkward, like I’ve shown up to a funeral in fancy dress. I need to calm down. Relax, Louise, relax.

  So I sit on the couch with a coffee from Jeff’s fancy percolator. It took me ages to figure out how it worked, but I did. Slurping the foam, I lick my lips and consider doing nothing for a while, even an hour, just nothing.

  But it’s impossible, my mind is in overdrive. I have to do something, but what? What do you do when you find out your mother who has just died is not your mother? That Becca Wall is dead too, has been for a very long time. And me, what about me? The girl I was last week, where is she? Also dead. A different kind of dead.

  With my mind bouncing from me, to her, to him, to what the fuck, it finally settles on Katie Collins. Jesus, the woman died trying to find me, her long-lost sister. Her baby’s aunt.

  A gust of fear blows through my body. I’m weak and I want to puke. Did I cause all this? No, Mom did. The woman Danny and Dad expect me to bury, standing, in a black coat, shedding white tears beside the coffin. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that, if I want to do that.

  I make myself another coffee and think about Louise, baby Louise, the little girl whose mommy was killed. What’s going to happen to her, growing up without her mom? Thank God she still has her dad, Thomas. Realizing I haven’t called him yet, I decide to do it now. But where’s his number? I know Jeff asked him for it when we were leaving the house in Algiers, I remember that much, it was just before I saw the pink coat. But I don’t know what happened while I was staring in shock at the photograph.

  Hoping that Jeff might have put it into my phone, I grab my cell and flick through the contacts. Thomas Collins. There it is. My hand is shaking, mouth dry. I’m nervous about what he’ll say when I tell him Katie was right. Will he hate me? Blame me? Curse me? It doesn’t matter, I’ll take whatever’s coming. He has to know and I want to tell him before Turner does.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  ‘Thomas Collins?’

  My heart is thumping. I’ve never felt this nervous before and I have had a lot of experience of late. Silence floats between us for a moment and I think that maybe he’s going to hang up.

  ‘Yes?’ he says.

  ‘Thomas, this is Rebecca Wall.’

  ‘Rebecca Wall?’

  ‘Yes. I came to see you last week about Katie. I was the girl she came to Boston to find.’

  ‘Of course,’ he says.

  I can’t read him, don’t know if he’s annoyed or interested, so I just spit it out.

  ‘Katie was right. I am her sister.’

  Thomas says nothing, but he doesn’t hang up either, so I continue.

  ‘I’m Louise. I was abducted when I was a few months old.’

  It’s only when I say these words that it strikes me – I don’t even know my own birthday. This makes me want to cry, but I push the tears back. I can’t cry now. It’s important I stay strong.

  ‘My mother took me. Her baby died, and she took me from my real mom, Katie’s mom.’

  Thomas remains silent but he’s still listening. I guess a guy in his situation gets a load of prank calls. Weirdos, psychos, broken people looking for someone else’s pain to play with.

  I’m struggling with what to say next because I thought he’d have joined in by now.

  ‘Katie was right this time, Thomas. I’m so sorry she was killed before she found me.’

  I want to ask him what was she like, her interests, her hates, the things she laughed at, the things that made her cry. What music did she like? There are hundreds of questions to be answered. But now is not the time.

  ‘Thomas?’

  I hear a sniffle. He’s crying. Fuck.

  ‘Thomas, I’m sorry if I upset you, but I wanted to be the one to tell you.’

  I wait, but still he doesn’t speak. He had doubted her and now she’s dead.

  ‘I know this is hard, Thomas. I’m going to hang up, and you can call me back when you’re ready to talk.’

  I picture him nodding even though I can’t see him. Slowly I take the cell from my ear and press the screen. End Call.

  I’m feeling slightly liberated when I hear Jeff opening the door. He looks surprised to see me standing there smiling.

  ‘You look a lot better,’ he says, glancing at the cell in my hand. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘That was my brother-in-law,’ I say, feeling weirdly excited. Almost ecstatic. I have a real family, one where I rightly belong. It makes me feel so much better now that I know my identity. The last few days had left me feeling like a plastic bag being tossed by the wind – go here, no, here, no here.

  ‘What did he say?’ Jeff asks, tossing his leather coat onto the back of the couch and heading straight for the refrigerator. He grabs a handful of leaves and walks over to the rabbits.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Not a word.’

  Jeff turns to look at me. ‘How did that work?’

  So I tell him about the call, and it’s obvious I’m a little too excited for Jeff’s liking.

  ‘Becca, don’t get upset if he doesn’t ring back. This is all a
massive trauma for him. It may be a while before he welcomes you with open arms, if he ever does.’

  Jeff has gone all sensible. Trying to prepare me for the worst, I guess. But what if Thomas Collins doesn’t want to talk to me, or get to know me, or let me meet baby Louise? I hadn’t thought of that.

  ‘One thing at a time, Becca,’ Jeff says.

  He’s right, I know. I need to calm down and not let my new identity fool me into thinking this world is my friend.

  I sit at the counter watching Jeff take ingredients out of the cupboards. He’s making me eat again. I fill him in on how events unfolded earlier at Oakridge. Jeff assures me that I’d be more likely to regret not saying I forgive her than saying it, and that I shouldn’t lose too much sleep, because it doesn’t really matter. I’m not sure I agree with him.

  ‘You have to make a decision, Becca. Only you can decide whether to go to the funeral or not.’

  ‘I know. It’s so hard, though. I didn’t realize how hard until today, when I had to stand with Dad and Danny, pretending… when all I wanted to do was run away. What if I feel that way at the funeral?’

  ‘If you want to run away, run away.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Becca, you’re overthinking this. It’s not about how you’re going to feel, it’s about how you feel now. Do you want to be at her funeral?’

  * * *

  Hours later I still don’t have a clue what I want to do. I want to be at the funeral; I don’t want to be at the funeral. It’s like choosing my dress for prom all over again. She was with me that day, standing outside the dressing room, laughing at me. I put the same two dresses on at least four times each, and still couldn’t choose. I can’t remember how I decided in the end, maybe she did it for me.

  My cell rings. Thomas Collins?

  I rush to the counter and grab my phone. The number displayed is unfamiliar but I’m pretty sure it’s not Thomas Collins. Jeff’s waiting on my reaction, so I shake my head to let him know it’s not Collins and answer the call.