Guilty

by Siobhan MacDonald

‘Oh, we’re just remarking how charming little girls are. Isn’t that right, Luke?’

  Luke agreed.

  Alison gave Hugh a coquettish smile. ‘We sure are. Sugar and spice and all things nice. Speaking of which – where’s your first communion girl? We have a little gift for her.’ Alison held up the bag.

  ‘No little something for me?’ Hugh teased.

  ‘Sorry.’ Alison jutted out her lower lip, playing along. ‘Big boys usually want big toys.’

  ‘Well, that’s true,’ Hugh agreed. He turned to Luke. ‘Remind me to take you to the shed. I’ve something to show you.’

  ‘Will do.’ Luke raised his bottle.

  Hugh called into the melee of kids on the bouncy castle. ‘Jenny!’

  A child in a long white dress emerged from a knot of bouncy children and vaulted onto the grass. Red-faced she skipped up to her father.

  ‘Yes, Dad?’ She had a pixie face with button eyes.

  ‘Say hello to Alison and Luke. They’ve brought you a gift.’

  ‘Hello,’ said the child, her interest trained on the gold paper bag.

  ‘What a beautiful dress,’ said Alison, handing her the gift. ‘You must have had the prettiest dress by far in the church today.’

  ‘My friend Lily had the exact same,’ said Jenny, tearing at the wrapping.

  ‘It’s hard to have anything unique,’ said Miriam, coming to join them with a tray of canapés. ‘There must have been at least a hundred kids in the church this morning.’ She offered the tray around. ‘All the local schools had first communion.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Jenny gushed. ‘It’s a lovely picture frame.’

  ‘You’re very welcome.’ Alison smiled down at the child. ‘And guess what, Jenny? We’re getting a little girl of our own soon. We’re adopting her all the way from Russia, in a few months’ time. What do you think of that?’

  ‘What’s her name?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘Nina.’

  ‘Is she pretty?’

  ‘Well, she’s clever. When we bring her back, maybe your mum will drive you over so the two of you can play?’ Alison looked to Miriam for an answer. ‘If it’s not too much that is. The roads to our place can be tricky.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll manage,’ said Miriam tartly. ‘I can go through the Talbot estate.’

  ‘The Talbot estate?’ asked Alison.

  ‘Down there.’ Miriam pointed to the sprawl of houses bleeding out from the city’s edges. ‘You go through that housing scheme there and it brings you out at the bottom of Lough Carberry.’

  ‘Oh, is that so?’

  ‘Third turning on the right after you leave our house and follow the signs for Lough Carberry. Easy. No need to bother with dreadful country roads.’ Her expression brightened. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘time for a drink, I think. Time to enjoy the celebrations. I’ll get someone else to keep an eye on the bouncy castle if you can get the barbeque going, Hugh.’ She turned on her heel and marched off in a heady waft of perfume.

  Hugh broke the awkward silence. ‘Still a bit touchy, I’m afraid. She’s pretty embarrassed about what happened.’

  ‘That’s understandable.’ Alison was sympathetic.

  ‘You know that Woody Allen line from Annie Hall, “I’ll walk to the kerb from here”?’ Hugh checked over his shoulder. ‘Well, that’s my Miriam.’ He grinned. ‘Now, I’d better go and light that barbeque or I’ll really be in trouble.’

  Hugh headed off across the lawn, leaving Luke and Alison alone.

  ‘Alison, what on earth possessed you?’ asked Luke as soon as Hugh was out of earshot. ‘I mentioned that accident to you in confidence. Why did you bring it up?’

  A few weeks earlier Miriam had skidded off a country road, ending up in the ditch. She had to be rescued by a farmer.

  ‘I suppose it was a bit tactless.’ Alison looked sheepish. ‘Still, there’s no need for Miriam to be so sensitive.’

  Luke shook his head. He was relieved to see that when he next spotted their hostess, she seemed to have forgotten all about narrow country roads. She was sharing a laugh with someone and topping up her glass of wine.

  With the barbeque billowing smoke, Hugh came looking for Luke. He’d rounded up the other guys and they all headed for the shed, where there was a well-stocked fridge.

  ‘Well, fellas, what do you think?’ Hugh asked, handing around more beers.

  Hugh was keen to demonstrate the progress he’d made on restoring a dilapidated old VW camper van he’d bought.

  ‘She’s looking good,’ Luke responded.

  Personally, he was more interested in boats than cars. He’d recently purchased a small inflatable with an outboard motor, anticipating taking Nina out on the water when they got her back to Clare.

  ‘I needed another interest,’ Hugh muttered to Luke. ‘Something that won’t get me into trouble with Miriam.’

  ‘She doesn’t know, does she?’

  ‘Fuck no,’ Hugh whispered, his eyes darting around to check the others. ‘What goes on tour, stays on tour, remember?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Hugh turned back to the group of guys. ‘It’s great to have you all here in my man-shed,’ he said cheerily. ‘Not that I get much time out here. I only get to come out after the kids are fast asleep in bed.’

  He pulled a face then turned to Luke.

  ‘You’ll know all about that soon, with your new arrival.’ He gave Luke a friendly slap on the back.

  ‘Here’s hoping.’ Luke raised his bottle.

  Hugh lit a cigar and offered the other to any takers. No one was interested, and he pretended to be disappointed. Hugh was dedicated to his work, and personable with it. At the hospital, everyone liked him.

  ‘I’m kind of nervous about the adoption,’ Luke confessed, opening another beer. ‘I’m looking forward to it too, though. You seem more than happy with your gang.’

  ‘Smug is the word I’d use,’ came a poke from Hugh’s younger brother.

  ‘And why wouldn’t I be smug?’ said Hugh in riposte. ‘My kids are wonderful.’

  Hugh’s brother turned to Luke. ‘See what I mean?’

  Luke laughed.

  When it came time to head back to the house, the other guys walked ahead. Luke was left sauntering behind with Hugh. ‘Alison’s a natural with kids,’ Hugh said encouragingly. ‘It’ll all be great, just you wait and see.’ He looked at Luke with a glint in his eye. ‘I don’t know if I mentioned it but my sister, Shirley, and her husband in the States – they adopted a kid last year as well. His swimmers were lazy buggers too.’

  Luke stopped. He stared at Hugh, gobsmacked. Why the hell did everyone assume he had a problem with his fertility? And why the hell did they feel obliged to let him know? It amounted to an assault on his masculinity, however unintentional. For all Hugh Smyth bloody knew, Luke could sire a nation. A continent in fact. Luke could probably open his own fucking donor clinic if he so wished.

  ‘Sorry, pal, no offence,’ said Hugh, realising he’d overstepped the mark.

  Luke opened his mouth to protest, but then he stopped. They’d agreed Alison’s condition would remain between the two of them. Their business. No matter how bruised Luke felt, he wouldn’t breach that trust. He clamped his mouth, saying nothing more. It was tough but there was nothing for it. His pride would have to suffer.

  Back on the patio, smoke continued to billow from the barbeque. Miriam was manoeuvring sausages with one hand and holding a wineglass in the other. Her hair, which had been pinned up, was now loose and she pushed at her fringe as she tried to peer through the smoke.

  ‘I’ll do that, Miriam,’ said Hugh, taking the tongs. ‘Can you get more beers?’

  Still smarting from the slight, Luke knocked back his bottle. He stood on the patio looking down over the city. He enjoyed the feel of the cold beer hitting the back of his throat. Out on the lawn, Alison was braiding the hair of Hugh’s youngest daughter.

  All afternoon, Luke had watched as Alison drifted comforta
bly around the party. She included adults and children alike, laughing at anecdotes, or slipping to her hunkers to engage a child. Now, hours later, high heels off, she was jumping on the bouncy castle as carefree as the kids. Hugh caught Luke smiling fondly at her.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ said Hugh. ‘A total natural.’ He put an arm around Luke’s shoulders trying to smooth over his earlier blunder. ‘You’ll stay around to watch the match, won’t you?’

  Ireland would be playing a soccer match that evening.

  ‘Yeah, why not?’ said Luke. ‘Not sure we’re in with a chance though. Think we could be flogging a dead horse.’

  ‘Excuse me, everyone!’ Miriam clinked a champagne bottle with a spoon. She was on the patio. She swayed a little. ‘Can I have your attention, please?’

  Hugh looked at his wife, bemused.

  ‘I know it hasn’t been formally announced yet, but seeing as we’re all gathered here to celebrate Jenny’s communion, we have some other news to share.’

  She glanced at Hugh.

  His expression changed.

  ‘No, Miriam.’ He looked concerned. ‘Not now.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Hugh. Everyone’ll know next week anyway.’

  She began to twist the cork.

  ‘My clever husband has just been offered the post of consultant cardiothoracic surgeon at St Matthew’s!’

  She popped the cork.

  Hugh looked mortified. Luke was gutted. And Alison, well, Alison’s face looked like thunder.

  The door to Terence’s office opened just a crack. ‘Sorry to interrupt you. It’s just that the dentist’s surgery and the solicitors upstairs are all complaining about the noise.’ The receptionist directed her gaze at Terence. ‘Everyone is phoning, wondering if it’s your car again.’

  Luke had been so absorbed in telling what had happened at the communion party that he hadn’t even noticed the alarm.

  ‘What a nuisance. I’m really sorry.’ Blue ink stained Terence’s lips and he looked like one of Luke’s cardiac patients. He’d been chewing the top of his biro.

  ‘I’ll go out and sort it if you like?’ Through the half-open door the receptionist held out her hand, uncomfortable that she had interrupted the session.

  ‘Would you? Thanks.’ Terence handed her a bunch of keys.

  She smiled indulgently before closing the door softly.

  Terence pulled a face as he returned to Luke. ‘I don’t know how she puts up with me. I couldn’t manage without her.’

  The same thought had occurred to Luke more than once. But in a few short minutes Terence would have more on his mind than a noisy car alarm.

  ‘I just want to say, Terence, that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t make for easy listening.’

  Outside, the car alarm stopped wailing. Terence looked at Luke, somewhat uncertain.

  ‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘Go ahead.’

  White Bird Falling

  Luke had lived that day over and over again in his head. He’d examined over and over again all the things he might have done. All the things he could have done. All the things he should have done. He closed his eyes and began. He was faltering at first, nervous. It all came spooling back in slow motion. Every last horrible detail. Starting with him and Alison in the car. On their way home from that communion party at the Smyths.

  ‘The third turning to the right, isn’t that what she said?’ Luke looked in the wing mirror, unsure now whether they’d passed one or two turnings. He hadn’t intended to drink as much and it would have been bad manners to refuse the champagne. It would have looked like sour grapes.

  ‘Smug bitch,’ Alison hissed. ‘Did you see the look on Miriam’s face?’

  ‘She was happy for her husband. That was all. You’d have been exactly the same.’

  If Alison hadn’t poked in her nose in the first place they could have been the ones celebrating now. Luke was definitely a more experienced candidate than Hugh.

  One mile or two?

  They hadn’t come this way before. What was it Miriam had said? His head was foggy and he couldn’t recall. They passed a row of houses, national flags hanging from the windows. It was dusk and the road was deserted. Everyone was indoors watching the match.

  Luke would have liked to stay at Hugh’s to watch it with the guys, as planned, but Alison had wanted to leave. Luke was trying to focus, looking ahead through the fly-flecked windscreen. They should surely have come to that turning for the Talbot estate by now?

  ‘Why the hell do you have to be so fucking gracious all the time?’

  Alison shook with anger. The truth was Luke wasn’t feeling the slightest bit gracious. But he wasn’t stooping to humiliate himself by displaying his disappointment in public.

  ‘It’s just the way these things go, Alison. My turn will come.’

  The canopy of trees was low, some of the branches almost touching the roof. The verges were in need of attention.

  ‘That’s what you said in Edinburgh. That’s what you said in London. And now here!’ She was shouting.

  God, he felt like opening the door, jumping out of the car, and walking home.

  ‘I’m young in my position, you know that. I’m doing well. Another promotion is just a matter of time.’

  ‘But you deserved this post.’ Her tone more shrill now. ‘You’ve got way more experience than Hugh bloody Smyth. That job should be yours.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting this is the case but Hugh trained under McCarthy, one of the professors on the panel. That may have gone in his favour.’ Luke didn’t care to say it, but the more he thought about it, the timing of Alison’s recent dinner party had been seen for what it was. Canvassing for the position.

  He was concentrating, looking for that elusive turning, now doubting the directions they’d been given earlier. Alison wasn’t paying attention, blinded as she was with fury. She’d been nursing it these past few hours.

  ‘Hugh Smyth stole that job from right underneath your nose and you don’t even care, Luke. Do you?’

  Shut up, Alison. Just shut the fuck up.

  Luke kept his eyes on the road but from the corner of his eye he could feel her turn to glare at him, the force of her gaze penetrating him.

  ‘Well, do you?’ she shouted.

  Taking his eyes off the road, he turned to look at her.

  Thud!

  A whiteness swirled, a somersault – a malformed pirouette against a darkening sky. A sickening sound.

  Crash!

  A glass cobweb spreads across the windscreen … something rolls across smearing it in red. A white mass slides off the bonnet.

  He blinks in slow motion … the brakes are screeching.

  Alison screams.

  ‘Jesus! Jesus Christ!’

  The car shudders to a stop.

  His neck is stiff. His body tight. His brain races ahead without him. He doesn’t want to do this. He knows he has to. Slowly, slowly, he twists his head. It hurts. It throbs. His head is turning, his eyes don’t want to see what might be there.

  No. Oh no, please God, no …

  The limbs are awkward … unnatural.

  Splayed on the road.

  He holds his breath. Is there movement? A tiny movement? Down the road he sees something poking out of the ditch. A bike. Its pink wheel buckled. Time stops. He stares. Absorbing. Processing. Everything goes still. His hand reaches for the door handle, training taking over.

  A hand grabs him.

  ‘No, Luke. No …’

  Her grip is tight. But he has a job to do. He can’t sit here. He prises Alison’s fingers away and wills himself from the car. He is first responder.

  The sweet sound of birdsong is jarring. There’s no traffic. Nothing but the birds. In the fading light he places one foot in front of the other. He sees something. On the tarmac. A silver tiara. Some of its coloured jewels are missing. He wonders if they were there before the impact, or had the impact knocked them from their sockets?

  He wants to run.
His legs are heavy. Like lead. They won’t let him. A trail of blood pools out from under the white dress.

  Click clack.

  The sound of high heels comes behind him on the road.

  Alison tears past him. He is groggy. Alison reaches her first. There are weights in his shoes. Alison bends to look, her head angling to the right, to the left, then back at Luke. She shakes her head. She straightens. She walks towards him, blocking him, jaw set, eyes hard. He tries to push past her but she stops him. Her nails are digging into his arms.

  ‘She’s gone, Luke. She’s gone.’

  ‘No …’

  He tries to free his arm. Her nails are sharp and he feels a sudden warmth. She’s drawn blood. He winces.

  ‘There’s nothing you can do, Luke. Think.’

  Pain sears through his arm.

  ‘Out of my way, Alison. Let me—’

  ‘No, Luke. We have to go. Get out of here …’

  ‘We can’t just—’

  ‘Yes. Yes, we can. We have to.’ Her voice is urgent.

  ‘But—’

  ‘What about Nina? Stop. Think about this.’

  Her eyes are rounds of stone.

  ‘You think we’ll be allowed to adopt after this?’

  Her words burn into him. He’s sobering up.

  ‘Luke, think about this. There’s nothing we can do …’

  She shakes her head. She is calm.

  ‘The child is dead, Luke. Your career … you work with children. Look at you, you’ve been drinking. You think anyone will want to see you again after knocking down a child? Our little girl is waiting for us in that awful orphanage in Moscow. She will never get her mummy and daddy. We promised her we were coming back for her … you promised her, Luke. I was there. I heard you. Pinky promise, remember?’

  The birds sing sweetly into the fading light. His mind is playing tricks. Little Nina appears right in front of him, here on the roadside. He sees her shining eyes, her trust. Her faith that they will return for her. Her little finger entwined in his. The pinky promise.

  What should he do?

  What can he do?

  The child yards away in the white communion dress … in her white and blood red dress … is dead. There’s nothing he can do for her. But Nina?