by Jackie Walsh
‘Laura, I was going to tell you it’s just… well, there was always something. I could never find the right moment.’
‘Not to mention how foolish I felt that I didn’t already know?’ I didn’t actually feel foolish at the time. I do now though.
‘Laura, I’m sorry, I should have told you.’
Tears are falling down my face now. This is not how I wanted to tell Conor. I wanted to hold him, comfort him, tell him it’s okay. But he annoyed me, telling me to apologise to Maggie.
‘Yes, you should have Conor, and I shouldn’t have to say sorry to Maggie for falling asleep. I know I had drink taken but it didn’t hit me until I heard what Deirdre had to say.’
Conor turns his back to me and walks away. He lifts the black bag in his hand and continues to collect the plastic cups. Why isn’t he consoling me, holding me close and apologising again?
‘I guess you’re right,’ he says, the tone of his voice deeper. ‘I should have told you… and you should have told me.’
‘What?’ I hear a whisper leave my mouth. ‘Told you what?’
‘I’m not the only one carrying a big secret, am I?’ he says. Suddenly I’m transported to a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. I want the world to stop. The room to disappear. It’s like I’m here but I’m not here. In my head I hear her voice. It’s going round and round. ‘You stupid girl Laura. You stupid, evil, girl.’
Chapter Forty-Eight
The following moments are spent with me trying to catch my breath. Conor rushes over to me. What does he know? How much does he know? How does he know? He’s trying to console me; he puts his arm around me, afraid I’m going to collapse.
‘Come over here, Laura, sit down, it’s okay, sit down.’ Conor leads me to the nearest chair where I fall into the seat. He kneels down in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘Take a deep breath, Laura, I’ll get you some water.’
He jumps to his feet and hurries to the tap. The filtered water tap. I don’t deserve a filtered water tap.
* * *
I couldn’t believe my luck. Number One Shandon Close and it was all mine. A small, two-bedroomed, red-brick house. Only a short walk to the city. The kitchen was small but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I was the luckiest girl in the world.
Earlier that year when I turned twenty-one I received my inheritance which had been held in a trust fund since my father died fifteen years earlier. Amanda still had two years to go before she would get hers but she decided to move in with me. Mam stupidly thought it was a good idea.
Within two weeks the place had been transformed into a party den. The neighbours weren’t too happy. Each time they complained, I promised them it was the last of it. But it went on and on and then I got pregnant.
I remember doing the test, Amanda waiting outside the toilet, her fingers crossed, my fingers crossed, both of us praying that it wasn’t positive. It was, and the worst thing about it was that I couldn’t remember the name of the father. He was just someone I brought back to the house one night after a crazy session in town.
Mam was okay when I told her. I think she thought it might settle me down at last. And it did. I was a very good mother-to-be. I ate well, I didn’t drink and I turned up to all the appointments at the hospital. Mam came with me every time. Amanda had started a new job that year at Imanage and things were going from good to better for her.
When the baby arrived, everyone was so happy. Jamie, named after my dad, was tiny. I’d never seen anything so small and frail. The first few weeks were tiring. A complete change in my life.
I was taking maternity leave from the nursing home where I worked and had no intention of going back. I liked the job, the old people were lovely to work with, but the hours were far too awkward to facilitate raising a child, especially as a single mum. I planned to get myself a nice nine-to-five job and put Jamie in a crèche, or maybe my mam would take him for a while.
I never got the chance to ask her. Jamie was only six weeks old when it happened. My whole body wants to fall like dust to the ground when I think about it. His tiny head, the dark tuft of hair sticking up on top of his twisted head. His tiny body dressed in a white Baby-Gro. Lying still at the foot of the stairs.
* * *
‘Laura, Laura.’ Conor’s voice drags me back into the room. I shake my head and look around. The light in the kitchen is too bright, it’s hurting my head. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tell him to switch it off, switch off the light.
‘What?’
‘It’s hurting me.’
Conor is confused but he hurries to the light switch by the door and lowers the glare. It’s darker now but I can still see his worried face.
He’s standing in front of me, his hand pushing back his hair. He doesn’t know what to do with me. He kneels back down by my side.
‘Laura, I think it would be better if you go back to bed. We can talk tomorrow – I’ll take the day off and we can talk. You look like you’re going to collapse.’
I consider the offer but it won’t work. I need to tell him now.
‘Conor, sit down.’ I move a tiny bit to the left and pat the cushion on the sofa. ‘I’m okay, Conor. I’m not going to faint.’
A glass of wine sits on the coffee table in front of me. My head would love it but my stomach turns at the sight of it.
‘Will you make me a coffee?’
Conor jumps back up from the sofa and walks over to the coffee machine.
‘Instant will do fine,’ I say, craving the boost. I want to ask him how he found out and why he never confronted me, but not yet. Firstly, I should be the one answering the questions.
Conor arrives back at my side holding two mugs of coffee. I take a sip, then another, and another, nervous but determined to get this over with.
My husband sits, waiting for me to talk to him, to tell him why I kept this secret. I’m hoping for the coffee to perk me up, to give me the strength I need. I turn to look him in the eyes. His troubled eyes.
‘Conor, I’m sorry I never told you. I should have told you at the start that I’d a baby.’
He doesn’t say anything but his gaze moves from my face to the mug which he lifts to his lips. His quivering lips.
‘But the baby died and I… to be honest, I never wanted to think about it again… I found it hard to go there. Remembering took me to a dark place, a very dark place that could take forever to crawl out of. I was so happy with you that… I didn’t want to go down there again. I’m sorry. I should have… I know.’
He’s still looking at his mug. Why isn’t he saying anything?
‘And then I got pregnant with Shay and things just seemed to move forward and I didn’t want to turn them back…’ Placing my hand on his leg, I squeeze it slightly. ‘How did you find out?’
‘I saw it in your file,’ he mutters in a low voice.
‘Nurse Elaine’s file?’
‘No, at the hospital, on the first visit. The nurse took you into a room to weigh you or something and she left the file on the chair. I read it, hoping to find out a bit more about the process. See if there was anything I could be helping you with. I thought it was a mistake. I took the file to the girl who was sitting at the reception desk in front of me and I asked her about something else written in there. Then I casually questioned the date of the first baby, pretending I thought the date was recorded wrong. She confirmed it. Laura Cummins had given birth to a baby boy on the nineteenth of April, six years earlier. So that’s how I found out, Laura. At the hospital, on our first visit.’
Conor sounds like he’s about to start crying.
‘But why didn’t you ask me about it?’ I say. I’m trying to make eye contact with him but he’s looking the other way.
‘I don’t know.’ His voice sounds confused. ‘I guess I knew it must have been hard for you to talk about, since you hadn’t told me yourself. I presumed you gave the child up for adoption. And I know what it feels like, being unable to share pain. Knowing no one else c
ould truly understand what it feels like. How could they? It’s not their pain. I never told you about the accident in the brewery, how I was the one who caused my father’s death because knowing about it spoils everything. It darkens the room no matter how bright. I didn’t want that for us. You were the only person in my life who didn’t know about this darkness so it couldn’t win when I was with you. It was like it never happened and I wanted to keep it that way. So I understood why you said nothing about your baby.’
Moving closer to him, I put my arm around his shoulder and kiss his cheek. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper in his ear. Conor moves his face close to mine and for a minute we linger, faces touching, saying nothing. I’m full and empty at the same time. Tears are flowing down my face.
A few minutes pass. Conor lifts his face, looks into my eyes and with both hands on either side of my head, he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. I am beyond lucky to love this man.
He takes his hands away from my face and pulls my body close to his on the sofa. With his arms wrapped around me, I snuggle close to him. I refuse to believe this man could have had anything to do with Vicky’s death. The stale smell of beer hangs in the air. My eyes shift to the window, to the dark sky pierced by one lonely star.
‘I’m sorry I’m making this all about me. It must have been awful for you, Laura, to lose your baby, I know how much you adore Shay. How wonderful a mother you are to him.’
My heart quickens. The calm I was feeling slips away. Please don’t ask, Conor. But he does.
‘How did the baby die?
Chapter Forty-Nine
Shay looks as happy as I am that the christening is over. He’s lying in my arms, fed, changed and safe. My head is still a bit fuzzy but all in all, I’d say I dodged a bullet. I expected the hangover to be a lot worse.
It was after three when Conor and I came to bed. We talked for a long time. If Shay hadn’t cried for his bottle, we would probably still be there. He told me how he walked onto the floor of the brewery that Friday evening listening to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers on his headphones. He noticed the lid on the beer vat open. Cursing the attendant for forgetting to close it, he wasn’t aware his father was inside fixing a valve. Conor went up the steel ladder attached to the vat and closed the lid. He locked the big steel handle. He still has nightmares of his father banging on the inside of the drum while ‘Under the Bridge’ was blasting in Conor’s ears. It took a lot of therapy and forgiveness to get him to where he is today.
The sadness he expressed when telling me about his father’s accident almost broke my heart. The harrowing expression in his eyes, the pain oozing from every word he said, had me in tears. And then it was my turn. I told him about the accident with baby Jamie. It wasn’t the whole truth. It’s impossible to tell the whole truth.
The clatter of the cleaners downstairs travels up to the room. Conor had arranged for them to come first thing this morning to get the place back into shape, so I wouldn’t have to do it. At the time, I’d thought it was a bit over the top but now I’m glad. I don’t think I could have faced cleaning up the mess.
‘Hi Shay,’ I whisper softly. ‘What would you like to do today? Sit and relax with Mammy, watch a bit of Netflix?’
Lifting Shay in my arms, I go to the window and watch the clouds gather in the sky. We were lucky yesterday. It never rained and it stayed warm enough for us to utilise the garden. The younger crowd, who had gathered on the decking, were able to stay out there for most of the day. I’m disappointed I didn’t get to enjoy their company, anchor a few friendships. The opportunity doesn’t arrive very often for me.
My phone rings. It’s Conor. He left for work about an hour ago saying he’d be home early today. He didn’t think he’d last too long in work after the late night but he did have a few things to do.
‘Hi,’ I say, lifting the phone to my ear.
‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, Shay’s eyes are following me… do you know it’s your daddy on the phone?’
‘Is he okay?’
‘Yes, he’s great.’
Conor doesn’t normally ring this early. Is he afraid? Does he think I can’t take care of Shay, that he’ll have to keep checking in on me?
‘Is everything okay?’ I say.
‘Yes, I was just wondering if you rang Mam yet?’
‘Oh.’ So that’s it. Conor isn’t worried about my mothering skills, it’s my bridge-building skills he’s checking up on.
‘I was going to wait until the cleaners left, but if you want me to do it now…’
‘Whatever, no big deal, give me a ring when you’ve spoken to her.’
When he hangs up I start to feel nervous. When someone says something isn’t a big deal, it usually is. Did I really upset her that much? I know I need to thank her, she really did do a fabulous job and I did promise Conor last night that I’d tell her I was sorry for leaving the party early. Keep the peace.
‘Shay let’s get this over with,’ I say, lying him down in the middle of the bed where his eyes investigate the glass ceiling above him. I dial Maggie’s number. She answers straight away.
‘Well, good morning,’ she says, her voice full of energy.
‘Hi Maggie, how are you?’
‘I’m great. It was a great day, everyone said so.’
‘I know and I want to thank you for making Shay’s day so special.’
‘You’re very welcome, Laura, I’m glad you liked everything. Helen said it was one of the nicest events she’s been to in years…’ Maggie carries on telling me how everyone loved the day. Maybe she’s forgotten all about my early exit. Conor might have been overreacting, asking me to apologise.
‘And yourself,’ she says. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’
‘I did Maggie. I’m sorry I fell asleep without saying goodbye but I only planned on lying down for a few minutes.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Sure, you’re only after giving birth to a baby, Laura. You did great to last as long as you did. You should rest today. How is little Shay?’
This doesn’t sound like a woman who’s annoyed with me. Was Conor exaggerating her comment or did Maggie mute her anger when she received all the praise for putting on such a great event? Whichever it is, I’m off the hook.
‘He’s great. Are you coming over later to see all the lovely presents we got?’
‘I’d love to Laura, thank you. I’ll be over around lunchtime.’
* * *
After I hang up the phone, I lie beside Shay on the bed and place my hand on his tummy. Gently, I roll him from side to side. I think of Jamie, how I never really took time like this with him. I loved him but I was young and stupid; I thought I was missing out on something better.
Since talking to Conor last night, I feel like a heavy load has been lifted from me. At least now I can mention Jamie, acknowledge that he existed. Another man may not have reacted the way Conor did, with kindness, sympathy and hugs. You’re a very special man, Conor Caldwell. I wish I could tell you what really happened.
I wonder what Amanda will say when she finds out Conor knows about Jamie, that he’s known for some time. It was Amanda who convinced me never to mention the baby to him. There was no need for him to know. What difference would it make? she said.
But it did make a difference. It made a difference to me when I looked Conor in the eye and told him I loved him. It made a difference when we both walked down the aisle side-by-side, waving and smiling, the question niggling at the back of my head: would he still want me if he knew the truth? Now it’s out there – some of it – and he still wants me.
‘Things are looking up, Shay,’ I say, sitting up to grab my phone.
Maggie still loves me
I text Conor adding a laughing emoji.
She’s calling in at lunchtime xx
I’m lifting Shay in my arms when the phone beeps. Glancing down to where it’s lying on the bed, I see a big red heart. All is good.
Even the sun is showing its suppor
t. I can see it breaking through the clouds when I look out the window.
‘We’ll go for a big walk today, Shay. Mammy will take you down to the village and listen to all the nice people saying what a great party it was.’
A few minutes later, I hear the bang of the front door closing. The cleaners have finally left. The house is mine again. With Shay in my arms, I go downstairs and place him in his crib. The house looks spotless. The only sign that a party has taken place is the heap of presents on the kitchen table. And cards. There are lots of cards. My heart sinks when I look at them.
Chapter Fifty
The presents are wrapped to within one inch of winning a competition. Bows, ribbons, bouncing stars, engraved bunnies, whites, silvers, blues. I’m surprised to see such a variety considering there is only one shop in the village that sells the stuff. Molly’s Books and Cards.
Pulling the smallest and prettiest one from the pile, I tug carefully on the ribbon. The box inside the wrapping paper holds a small silver hairbrush with Shay’s name engraved on it. Immediately, I take it to the crib and run the soft brushes across Shay’s solo patch of black hair. Already, I notice a change in him. He’s beginning to look like his daddy.
Happy with my little boy’s first hairdo, I go back to open the card. I’ll have to remember who gave what because Maggie is going to ask me. The card is sitting on the table. A blue envelope with a bunch of little balloons printed on the corner. My mind flashes back to the dreadful card I opened the night I came back from the hospital. I’m not expecting any of them to say Conor killed Vicky but what if one does? What if this is not over? My eyes begin to blur at the sight of all the possible danger wrapped in pretty envelopes. I don’t want to open them. I’ll wait until Maggie gets here. But that would be worse. What if she opened a card that accused Conor of being a murderer? Christ. If someone was bad enough to send the card the first time round they could easily do it again. Maybe hoping for more of a reaction this time. My mind flashes to all the faces that filled this room yesterday. Smiling, drinking my drink, eating my food. Was it one of them? And Olive, I’d love to know what she said to Noel to knock him off his pedestal. He became very quiet after that. No longer peacocking his godfather role.