Guilty

by Siobhan MacDonald

  He wondered how much of the conversation Nina was able to follow. She was nodding, studying his face for clues. She was clever, of that he had no doubt. Since leaving the orphanage, everything was new and foreign to her. He imagined it must be overwhelming. Her face was drawn and white, but in her eyes there burned a curiosity.

  When they stopped, she got out eagerly. Alison took her by the hand and escorted her along the waiting line of scrapyard workers. Luke stood back. Cornelius was at the end of the line, watching as Nina dutifully shook each adult hand proffered to her. Her little face was serious. Alison approached Cornelius, looking nervous.

  ‘Nina, this is your grandfather.’

  Cornelius stared down over the round of his stomach, as if the child was a foal he was considering buying. Nina looked up. And then she did something unexpected. She pointed a finger just where his shirt strained and separated over his belly. She giggled, a delightful rippling sound, and poked her finger into the well of his belly-button. Cornelius gasped.

  ‘What the …’

  Everyone burst out laughing. Everyone except Cornelius. He took a humourless step back, aligned the folds of cloth, and tucked his shirt tightly into his trousers. Encouraged by the laughter, Nina tried again. Sensing that Cornelius would react even more unfavourably a second time, Luke scooped her up and hugged her to him.

  Cornelius looked like he’d been sucking nettles. Rather than enjoy the innocent humour, he reacted badly. The little girl had humiliated him in front of all his staff. Not the most auspicious start.

  ‘Nina was a plucky kid,’ Terence offered.

  ‘Yes, she was,’ said Luke. ‘Not something that endeared her to her mother.’ He fell into silence.

  ‘I shouldn’t have interrupted, please carry on.’

  Luke picked up. ‘Well, a week or so after that there was Nina’s naming ceremony. That’s when the real fun started.’

  Alison had relented on the business of a christening in a church. Luke knew it would only serve as another occasion for Cornelius to hijack. He could picture the pomp, the ceremony, the altar of senior church figures, a congregation of those who owed Cornelius a favour, and those to whom he was indebted. In the end, Luke prevailed. It was a small victory, a rare occurrence.

  Though he found lavish occasions a chore, Luke readily engaged in the plans for a naming ceremony. It would be a humanist ceremony held at the Glasshouse, much to Cornelius’s disgust. In eschewing a traditional christening, there was a price to be paid. Wendy would be godmother but Roddy Gilligan had to be godfather. Alison insisted. He was one of her longest-standing friends, she said. Gilligan and Wendy, godfather and godmother. It was an odd pairing.

  The day of the naming ceremony started well. It was warm. A late September day, the sunlight was honey-yellow before October stripped away the leaves. Nina was agog with all the gifts she’d received. Lego, craft sets, a ballerina music box, and a saddle for a pony from Cornelius. She’d put them in a tidy pile in the corner of the garden room and went outside to skim stones on the lough with his sister, Wendy. Alison was in the house. She was giving Miriam Smyth and Johnny Whelan’s girlfriend the grand tour.

  Luke left them to it and headed out into the garden. It was all going nicely. Guests chatting on the gently shelving lawn. Kids skimming stones across the water. His inflatable boat was bobbing at the pier. It had aroused some interest. He would take Nina and Hugh Smyth’s kids out in it later.

  In the weeks leading up to Nina’s arrival, Hugh had made several concerned remarks on how Luke seemed withdrawn. Johnny Whelan had taken to slapping Luke on the back, calling him ‘Pops’, advising him not to let the pre-adoption nerves get to him.

  Luke was convinced Hugh knew there was more afoot than pre-adoption nerves. He found it strange that in the days that followed the accident, Hugh had never once mentioned the hitand-run that had happened a few short miles from his home. He tried not to think about it. Since Nina had arrived, he’d found an occasional smile creep up on him. He’d even felt the odd burst of happiness. Feelings he thought he’d never have again.

  ‘Everything OK?’ It was Nicola, Alison’s friend from school. ‘You look a little sad.’

  ‘Actually, I was thinking about all the people who aren’t here to share today,’ he said. ‘My mum and dad … Alison’s mother …’

  ‘Yeah, that’s a shame,’ Nicola agreed.

  ‘Both Alison and I have been unfortunate in losing parents.’

  ‘Well, Alison’s mum wasn’t exactly what you’d call healthy,’ Nicola said under her breath. ‘That’s why Alison was sent away to school. Marguerite wasn’t fit for much, poor thing.’

  ‘I know about Alison’s mother,’ he said.

  ‘What do you make of Alison’s dad?’ Nicola linked his arm. She directed her attention to Cornelius. He was standing at the water’s edge talking to Gilligan.

  ‘We get along just fine.’ He was not about to share the inner workings of their relationship with his wife’s tipsy friend.

  Nicola slurred. ‘There’s no way you’d be here today if Cornelius didn’t think you were up to scratch. None of Alison’s boyfriends lasted long.’

  ‘That’s teenage flings for you.’

  Before she and Luke got together, Alison confessed she’d only had a few brief dalliances at home on holidays from school.

  ‘Still, there’s nothing quite like first love, is there?’ Nicola looked up at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Her pupils were dilated. ‘She tell you about hers?’

  ‘Are you sure Alison would want you telling tales?’ he cautioned.

  She looked doubtful. ‘No, I don’t suppose she would,’ she said, continuing on regardless. ‘She didn’t want to talk about it back at school. But we all knew she was upset.’

  ‘Oh?’ She’d piqued his interest now.

  ‘I never got to the bottom of it.’ Nicola’s furtive expression changed to one of puzzlement. ‘This guy, I think his name was Thomas … yeah, yeah, that was it … can’t remember his surname. Anyway, this guy, he was working as a casual labourer, a stable hand, I think, at Crow Hall. A summer job. He and Alison had this thing together during the school holidays. It was messy, I gather. Lots of fighting and making up. Teenage stuff, like you said. During one of their spats, well, things got a little out of hand, and I’m not exactly sure but I think the guy may have hit her. As you can imagine, Alison’s dad went crazy. Apparently he marched the guy out of Crow Hall with a shotgun.’

  ‘Alison never mentioned a thing about it.’ Luke was sceptical. He’d already decided he didn’t trust Nicola and was beginning to wonder if this was a tall tale.

  ‘The only reason I know anything about it—’ she hiccupped, ‘is because the police turned up at school.’

  ‘Alison pressed charges?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that.’

  Nicola’s bloodshot eyes grew larger. ‘The reason the police were there was to interview Alison. See, it turned out this Thomas guy, well, he just disappeared after that, and the last place he’d been seen was at Crow Hall.’

  This was supposed to be a day of celebration for Nina and Luke had little interest in hearing about his wife’s old boyfriends or about odd goings-on at Crow Hall. Heedless of his silence, Nicola rabbited on. ‘It was sad for Alison, too, when her mum died. But you know, things always have this way of working out for her.’

  ‘That so?’ Luke said tartly.

  ‘Sure.’ Nicola’s cheeks were red from sun and wine. She waved an expansive arm. ‘Alison gets what Alison wants.’ There was more than a hint of envy in her tone. ‘She has the designer house. A successful business. The good-looking, successful husband. A child. And she got to keep her figure.’

  ‘Keep her figure?’ Luke gave a derisory laugh. ‘I’m not convinced that’s high on Alison’s list of priorities.’

  ‘Of course it is …’ Nicola hiccupped again. ‘She always reckoned pregnancy was overrated. Said she never wanted a body-wrecking bump. And Alison got what
she’d always wanted. A nice potty-trained four-year-old.’

  This woman had no insight whatsoever into Alison’s condition nor did she know that a pregnancy would have been unwise. Perhaps deliberately, Alison had never shared her health problems with her friend – if you could even call Nicola a friend. She didn’t appear particularly loyal and she was certainly far from discreet.

  Luke had endured enough of Nicola and her gossip for now. He freed his arm from hers. ‘For the record, Nicola, I’d like to confirm that we’re delighted with Nina. My mum and dad would have loved her, and I’m sure Marguerite would have too.’ He increased his stride in an effort to shake her off.

  Nicola was persistent. She kept up. ‘Perhaps it’s easier for everyone that Marguerite’s not here. For the best …’

  Luke was not engaging.

  ‘It was cirrhosis that did for Marguerite in the end.’

  ‘I think you’re way off there, Nicola,’ Luke put her right. Fuck, this woman was annoying. She was hammered. ‘Marguerite died of a heart attack.’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ she slurred. ‘The heart attack finished her off. But the old dear had cirrhosis. Marguerite was an alcoholic – a classic, raging alcoholic. But like you said, you knew all about her, right?’

  Luke felt the day was taking a wrong turning. No longer concerned with being polite, he broke away from Nicola, heading back to the house. He’d check if Alison needed any help. He found her in the kitchen, directing the catering staff. In her hand was an antibacterial spray and a cloth.

  ‘Finished the grand tour?’ he asked. ‘Everything under control?’

  ‘Yes and yes,’ she said, looking happy. ‘They were most impressed. I sent them outside with a drink while I organise the food.’ She sprayed the work surface and rubbed it with the cloth. ‘I saw you out there on the lawn with Nicola. She have anything interesting to say?’

  ‘She’s pissed so she had plenty to say. I know she’s your friend, Alison, but I think she has a loose grip on reality.’

  Alison laughed. ‘Ah, Nicola’s great fun. As she says herself, why tell the truth when you can tell a story?’

  Luke was not inclined to agree. ‘Will I take the rubbish out?’ He pointed to a black refuse sack propped against the wall.

  ‘That’s not rubbish. I’ve just finished bagging Nina’s gifts. I’m handing them into the community crèche on Monday.’

  ‘What?’ He was astonished.

  ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, Luke. I’ve left out the music box and the saddle. It’s mainly the Lego, and all those craft boxes full of those itty-bitty plastic pieces that are a nightmare to tidy. Anyway, it’s far too much stuff for the child. We don’t want Nina getting spoiled, do we? The last thing anyone likes is a spoiled child.’

  ‘I hardly think that’s going to happen.’

  ‘Even so …’ Alison continued with her spraying.

  Not wanting to argue, Luke headed back outside, resolving to do whatever was needed to rescue the black refuse sack from its fate. He headed down towards the water’s edge where Cornelius and Gilligan were still deep in conversation.

  The two men stood with their backs to him. They were watching Nina and Wendy who were nearby, skimming stones. Both men had a glass in hand. Luke had been wondering about setting aside his misgivings about Gilligan, especially if he was going to be part of Nina’s life. The guy was a prick but perhaps he had redeeming features. If Luke looked hard.

  ‘What do you think? What do you make of those two? The dyke and the duckling.’ Cornelius sniggered.

  Luke froze.

  ‘That sister of Luke’s is a bit on the large side. She wouldn’t run well on soft grass.’

  ‘Now, now, Cornelius,’ said Gilligan with a snort.

  ‘And God bless us all, I don’t think that ugly Russian duckling will ever make a swan. But what about it, if she makes my Alison happy?’

  ‘That’s true,’ Gilligan simpered.

  ‘What matters of state are you two discussing?’ Luke was scathing.

  ‘We’re just remarking how happy Alison is today. Isn’t that right, Roddy?’

  ‘Er … yes. Think I’ll get myself a top up.’

  Gilligan scurried off, embarrassed they may have been overheard.

  ‘Yourself and Roddy don’t see eye to eye, do you?’ A sly smile hovered on Cornelius’s lips.

  ‘We could,’ said Luke, ‘if he stood on a biscuit tin.’

  ‘Fair point. He’s a bit of a short arse. From good stock though. The Gilligans have been round here as long as the Thompsons. And you know what they say,’ Cornelius’s eyes glinted, ‘the best of goods come in small parcels.’

  ‘As does poison,’ Luke said drily.

  Cornelius chuckled. ‘I thought you said something about organising a tug-of-war for the children?’

  ‘I’ll round them up in a while. Wendy and Nina seem happy enough for the moment.’

  Luke waved at a figure who appeared on the lawn.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Cornelius.

  ‘Johnny Whelan, a colleague.’

  ‘Jaysus, that lad wouldn’t be any good to pull a rope. He’s all scrawn. Wouldn’t pull the socks off a dead man.’ Cornelius set his glass on the grass, straightened himself, and pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. ‘You seem taken with the child,’ he said, lighting up.

  ‘I am.’

  Cornelius glanced furtively over his shoulder.

  ‘I trust you’ve kept your mouth shut. You’ve not been blabbing to anyone about that little incident a few months back?’

  Luke stared.

  ‘I haven’t said a thing.’

  ‘Good.’ Cornelius exhaled a pungent cloud of smoke.

  ‘You shouldn’t smoke,’ said Luke.

  ‘I’ll be dead soon enough.’

  Luke consoled himself with that thought.

  ‘A word in your ear,’ Cornelius lowered his voice. ‘Just in case you’re ever tempted to shoot your mouth off, remember this. We both have daughters now. I’d hate to see Alison upset by any loose talk.’ His expression darkened. His mouth was hard. ‘As I’m equally sure you’d hate to see anything happen to upset that nice wee girl over there. So, take care. I’m just saying, that’s all.’ His eyes were pools of menace.

  It took Luke some seconds to reply. ‘You’re some bad bastard.’

  Cornelius smiled. ‘It’s taken you until now to figure that one out? Alison said you were smart. What took you so long?’

  In recounting the exchange, Luke had been following Terence’s expression closely.

  ‘You’ve given me a fair chunk to think over here today,’ said Terence, eventually. He made a steeple of his fingers. ‘I’d like you to make another appointment, but give it a few days. I need to absorb all of this.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Terence would now have to weigh the consequences of going to the police. Luke was glad he’d told him everything. Well, nearly everything. It just might be enough to guarantee his silence.

  An Alternative Truth

  Luke was on edge. Though he felt confident Terence would alert him if he was going to the authorities, sightings of police cars outside the emergency department broke him into a sweat. And only yesterday, Fran had advised him in her disapproving manner that there was someone waiting to see him, and not a patient, she added darkly. Preparing for the worst, he’d been relieved and pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t the police to take him off for questioning.

  Terence usually opened a session without preamble. Today was different. He perused his notes, rubbed his chin, and glanced at Luke surreptitiously. Luke waited, taking in the surroundings of the now familiar office, noting how there was still one leaf on the rubber plant that remained coated in dust. Not the kind of thing that would have escaped Fran’s sharp eye.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Luke asked.

  Terence cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been looking over my notes,’ he said. ‘In the light of what you told me in our last session, I wond
er if we might revisit a few little details? There are a few things that remain unclear for me. I wonder if I can bring you back to the day of the communion party in your colleague’s house?’

  Luke’s shoulders slumped.

  ‘I know it’s traumatic, but if I can just ask you to go back to that afternoon, to before the accident?’

  ‘I’ve told you everything. I’ve been totally honest.’

  ‘I’m not disputing that. And some of it in remarkable detail, even down to remembering the blazer that you were wearing. But sometimes memory is not reliable. Memories change. I just think it would be helpful if we could bring that level of focus, of detail, to other parts of your account. You were under severe stress as you recounted to me what happened the first time. It may seem pedantic, I know, but I want to make sure that we’ve unlocked everything that happened that day.’

  ‘OK,’ said Luke warily. It seemed like going over painful ground unnecessarily. He grudgingly began.

  It was a forensic process. Terence questioned his recall at every juncture. Asking him could he remember sounds in the background at certain moments, if he could recall smells, tastes, sensations. Things proceeded in this vein for some time before Terence signalled him to stop.

  ‘Just there. Stop right there. I want to ask you a question now. And think carefully before you answer.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Luke said, baffled.

  The question itself was straightforward, but it stopped Luke in his tracks. A noise like a thunderbolt went off inside his head. He shivered as if a draught had suddenly entered the room. He took a breath and closed his eyes, concentrating.

  He cast his mind back.

  Was this possible? What Terence was suggesting? Luke had been certain of it all up until a moment ago. He trawled his memory frame by frame. Backwards. Forwards. Freezing on certain moments.

  In the end, there was no need for Luke to say anything. Terence had tracked his expressions. He had the answer to the question he had asked. Both men sat and stared at one another for some considerable time. Luke was chilled to his core.