Guilty

by Siobhan MacDonald

  Luke pulled his car keys from his pocket and lobbed them across the room onto Fran’s desk.

  Fran jumped.

  ‘The key fob isn’t working. I can’t lock the car doors. Can you sort it?’

  ‘The car is booked in for a service next week …’ She was taken aback. ‘But yes, of course, I’ll bring it forward if you like.’

  ‘Never mind. It can wait a week,’ he snapped.

  Heading to her desk, he reached across and snatched the keys. He wasn’t having any more of her wisecracks. When Nina met Sophie, he knew she’d like her, and he knew, or hoped, that Nina would not feel threatened by his new relationship.

  ‘Did you confirm my availability for the Chicago transplant conference in the autumn?’

  ‘Yes.’ Fran was looking beyond Luke, over his shoulder. Luke hadn’t heard the door open but he felt the presence of someone standing behind him. He felt a rush of embarrassment at what must have sounded like his bad-tempered, churlish behaviour.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said in a kinder voice, looking over his shoulder to see who it was.

  Hugh Smyth. Luke had no idea how long he’d been there.

  ‘Hugh,’ he said, ‘didn’t see you there, my man.’

  ‘You’re busy.’ Hugh was already halfway out the door. ‘Catch you again.’ And he was gone.

  ‘Ready for your patients now?’ Fran asked smugly, happy that his rudeness had been witnessed.

  ‘Wheel them in.’

  Fran was making her way to the door to the waiting room when she stopped. ‘Oh, before I forget,’ she said, ‘Johnny Whelan dropped in just before you got here. He was wondering if you were still on for tonight?’ She looked at him in question. ‘Said to text him and Hugh Smyth – that you’d know what it was about.’

  Shit.

  He’d completely forgotten. Probably why Hugh had called in. Luke bowed his head making it clear the conversation was over.

  ‘I’ll send in your patients,’ Fran said in her receptionist voice. ‘You know,’ she delayed, her hand on the door jamb. ‘There’s something about him.’

  ‘Who?’

  The woman never knew when to put a sock in it. Could she not just do the job he paid her for?

  ‘Johnny Whelan. Something odd.’

  ‘Let’s just get on with my patients.’

  He had forgotten about tonight’s arrangement with Hugh and Johnny. He wasn’t prepared. He hadn’t edited the video yet. He hadn’t been in the basement much since Nina left. And there wasn’t any beer. He’d have to stop at the off licence when he finished up today.

  All of this meant he couldn’t call on Sophie. Damn. He’d been considering dropping by her place. She hadn’t returned his phone calls and she wasn’t answering the landline at her work. He’d sent a bouquet of flowers to her house, but so far she hadn’t acknowledged them.

  She was still clearly upset about the cat. He didn’t like Sophie ignoring him. He missed her. The way she made him feel. Good and wholesome. The way he liked to feel. When her eyes searched his, she saw the conscientious doctor, the father who missed his child, the lover. When she cupped his face and her eyes plumbed his, she did not see a weak man, a man who had lost his way. Tomorrow, he resolved. He’d drop by the office tomorrow. Or stop by her house at least.

  Luke’s appointments ran late that afternoon. It was after seven when he pulled out of the hospital car park, the sky dark with rain. He set the wipers to full speed. A mile up the dual carriageway, he pulled into the retail complex to buy some craft beers. Hugh Smyth liked his craft beer.

  Purchase complete, he headed back out onto the carriageway away from the city, taking care to follow the detour signs for the lough. And still it rained. It pummelled down, sloshing down the windscreen, hopping off the tarmac. He was sick to the back teeth of this weather. If he heard the word ‘unprecedented’ once more he’d scream. Roads were closing all the time. He hoped the guys would make it to the Glasshouse without much bother.

  Hugh would be fine. He could take the shortcut from his place through that housing estate out to the lough. The roads should be OK there. Luke’s mind began to wander. His trousers were sticking to his legs where the rain had wet them. He shivered. In his mind’s eye he could picture that housing estate. Gripping the wheel, he willed the pictures from his mind.

  There was Johnny. Luke wasn’t sure where Johnny lived these days. Always moving from one bachelor pad to another. Floods, hail or snow, Johnny would turn up. He wouldn’t miss it. He enjoyed these nights more than the rest of them.

  Luke turned on the radio. Some guy from the Inland Waterways was advising about measures being taken to control the water levels in the catchment areas upstream from the lough. Levels there had increased by 50 centimetres in the last forty-eight hours and the hydroelectric station was approaching capacity. Only another 50 cubic metres of floodwater could be accommodated. After that, the remaining floodwater would have to be diverted through the weir and it would be difficult to predict the rise in the level of the lough. This news was broken by the sound of Luke’s mobile ringing.

  ‘Luke?’

  Fran sounded panicked.

  ‘I’m sorry but I have to ask you to come back.’

  ‘Louise Troy is the consultant on call tonight, Fran.

  Not me.’ ‘Not to the ward, Luke. To your consulting rooms.’

  Luke pulled into the hard shoulder and put his hazard lights on.

  ‘What is it, Fran?’

  ‘When you get here,’ she replied. ‘I’d rather not say while you’re driving.’

  Luke entered the hospital by the outpatient consulting rooms. The corridor was quiet save for the low hum of a cleaner using an electric floor polisher. His hurried footsteps echoed off the lime-green walls. He was texting, cancelling the evening’s arrangements with Johnny and Hugh. The guys would be unhappy about this.

  There was only the light from Fran’s desk lamp as he walked into the outer office. She was sitting at her desk.

  ‘What is it? What’s going on?’ he asked.

  She lifted a manila envelope from where it was sitting on her lap, placed it on the desk, and moved it towards him.

  ‘This,’ she said.

  The same A4 envelope she’d left on his desk earlier, marked ‘personal’.

  Swallowing, he looked inside.

  Bookmarks?

  He took one out. He stared. A photograph above several lines of verse. He’d seen that photograph before. It was taken the night Alison won the election. The three of them together. Luke, Alison and Nina. Alison had liked it and put it on the console table in the hallway at the Glasshouse. He recognised the verse below the photo as Yeats. ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree’. And above the photo: In memoriam, Nina Forde-Thompson. Gone but never forgotten. ‘I didn’t know what to do,’ Fran said quietly. ‘I opened it after you left. Then I called you.’

  So, this game wasn’t over.

  ‘It was marked “personal”. Why did you open it?’

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘You’ve never said anything before. I always open things for you marked “personal”.’

  ‘From now on, don’t.’

  ‘What’s all this about, Luke? Shouldn’t you call the police?’

  ‘This is nothing to do with you, Fran. Forget about it.’

  He had his suspicions.

  ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing, Fran.’ He towered over her desk. ‘You don’t want to get involved in this. Believe me.’

  Personal Effects

  ‘It’s great to see you. I was chatting to Wendy earlier. She loved having you in Sydney.’

  Luke was in the car in St Matthew’s car park on a video call to Nina. It gave him some comfort that she was taking his calls again these past two weeks. He held his phone close up. Nina was looking tanned and healthy. He didn’t tell her about the memoriam cards. He hadn’t mentioned them to anyone and he was staying out of Fran’s way as much as possible.

  ‘Wendy’s
really cool. Toni too,’ said Nina. Her speech and mouth were out of synch. ‘It’s nice to be around people who treat you like an adult.’

  He let it slide.

  ‘Can you do something for me, Dad? Tell Mum I won’t be doing Politics and History at college.’

  ‘Really? Well, believe it or not, I’ve only seen Mum a handful of times since you left. She’s in Dublin most of the week. She’s busy with a select committee on energy.’

  ‘Not wind energy by any chance?’ Nina pulled a face.

  ‘Got it in one.’

  It was time to declare his change in situation. Given that he’d already dropped Sophie into conversation a good few times, Nina had probably figured things out for herself. Still, it was best to spell things out clearly. Nina was aware the marriage had been thinly held together. Giving voice to it would simply acknowledge that it was time for them all to move on.

  ‘To be honest, Nina, Mum has more or less moved out of the house. Even when she’s back in Clare, she spends most of her time at Crow Hall.’

  Nina responded straightaway. ‘I can’t say that comes as a big surprise. I could never picture how the two of you ended up together to start with. I guess she’s up there with Grandpa and Groper Gilligan calling in and fawning all over her?’

  ‘I imagine so.’

  ‘Well, I’ve no intention of being her little accessory any more. Just because she paid money for me doesn’t mean she owns me.’

  Cornelius, the bastard, had told her once that her mother had paid a lot of money to the orphanage for her.

  ‘Of course it doesn’t,’ said Luke.

  ‘So here’s my news. I’m going to be going to catering college.’

  Luke had to stop himself from laughing. A cook Nina was not.

  ‘That’s fantastic news,’ he said. He didn’t care as long as she was happy and didn’t hook up with any more nutjobs. ‘You know the woman I’ve mentioned a few times – Sophie?’

  ‘Yeah … I kind of guessed you were having a thing,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘Well, you’re right and Sophie’s lovely, you’ll like her … and of course she’s dying to meet you. She wants to cook dinner for the three of us when you get back.’

  ‘Oh right.’

  ‘She suggested next Thursday when you fly back to Ireland, but I said you’d be jet-lagged. Maybe sometime the following week though?’

  ‘Thursday’s fine with me, Dad. I’m coming in to Heathrow first, spending a couple of days with friends in London before coming home.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure. That’d be great.’

  Nina giggled. ‘I can’t wait to meet the woman who’d put herself between you and Mum. One more thing – I’d prefer if Mum wasn’t the one to collect me from the airport.’

  He’d anticipated this. ‘I’ll do my best. Have a safe journey home, pet.’

  ‘Will do, Dad. Love you.’

  Nina hung up.

  She seemed indifferent at the prospect of meeting Sophie. When he’d first mentioned her on the phone, Nina had asked very few questions. That was normal enough, wasn’t it? Teenagers were self-absorbed. While Nina might be indifferent, he suspected Sophie was nervous at the prospect of meeting his daughter. Normal enough, too.

  He’d been upset about Sophie’s withdrawal from him after her cat had died. It had felt like an overreaction, as if it were somehow his fault. Whatever it was, it was water under the bridge now. Given their most recent night together he was confident their relationship had weathered its first chill.

  The role play had been intense. Maybe a little too intense. He shifted in the driver’s seat. His back was still tender. It was two nights ago. Under his shirt he bore deep welts from a riding crop that Sophie had picked up from the hallway.

  With a few minutes to spare before leaving the car and heading into the hospital, it was an opportunity to give her a call and fill her in.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Sophie answered.

  He was usually too busy to call her during the day.

  ‘Sure. Everything’s fine,’ he said. ‘I was talking to Nina just now. Thought I’d phone to say how much she’s looking forward to meeting you.’

  ‘Well, I’m looking forward to meeting the golden child.’

  For one brief moment he worried she might be jealous.

  ‘What night is it again?’ she asked cheerily.

  ‘You’d mentioned Thursday. Her first night home. If that’s still all right with you?’

  ‘But won’t her mother want to see her on her first night home?’

  ‘She’ll see Nina the following day or so. I’d hoped the break might have done them both good. Things are still a bit … well … still a bit strained between them.’

  ‘That’s a pity.’

  ‘There are two of them in it. Nina can be difficult too. Are you OK to come out to the house this weekend?’

  ‘I’d love to but I’m away with some girlfriends. By the way, I do realise I have been a bit off lately. Sorry.’

  ‘No need to apologise. I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ She chuckled.

  ‘Look, if you’re not around this weekend, I might as well work. I’ll see if a colleague will swap shifts. That way I’ll have more time with Nina when she gets back.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘How about I collect Nina, then swing by yours to get you? Her flight’s in from Heathrow around five. We can head up to the lough together.’

  ‘I’ll make something we can heat up when we get to yours. Something special. Vegetarian, I guess?’

  ‘Yes.’

  A pause.

  ‘Will you miss me this weekend?’

  ‘Of course. I was kind of looking forward to … to …’

  ‘Shagging my brains out?’

  ‘Ah, the eloquent Ms Ellingham.’

  ‘You want to now, don’t you?’ Her voice was husky.

  ‘I can’t deny I feel a certain stirring in the glove compartment.’ He looked furtively in the wing mirror but there was no one else in the rainy car park.

  ‘You have no idea what I’d like to do to you.’

  ‘Tell me. What would you like to do?’

  The voice in his head told him this was absurd. Ludicrous. Sitting in his car in the hospital car park talking like this. But sense had deserted him. He’d never done this with his wife. Alison got turned on by crises and how to manage them.

  Sophie whispered, ‘I’d love to rip your clothes off with my bare hands …’

  ‘And?’

  ‘To cuff you. Tight.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Tie your feet together with my black silk scarf. Blindfold you. And when you’re waiting, desperate, then …’ She paused, her voice hoarse, ‘that’s when you’d feel it. Just a little at first … nothing much … a short swish.’

  This was one of her things. He was shocked the first time it had happened, it had taken his breath away. Sex with Sophie was something unknown, sometimes dangerous, always exciting. Lust and a sense of being alive colliding into one. Before Sophie, he’d never done anything like this and, though he found it weird at first, he went along with it.

  ‘I’d whip you harder …’ Sophie giggled.

  In an instant his desire evaporated. He’d spotted something. His eyes were trained on the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Got to go.’ He hung up.

  Slowly, slowly, he turned.

  He reached across the seat. He swallowed. He recognised it. One of the blue plastic hospital bags used to package personal effects. It wasn’t his, and it hadn’t been there this morning when he’d driven to the hospital. It was tied with a knot at the top. It was bulky. Cautiously, he lifted it onto the passenger seat beside him, the blue plastic making a crinkling sound. It was printed with black block lettering:

  HOSPITAL PROPERTY

  He undid the knot and looked inside. He saw clothing. He reached in and pulled out something. Something pink. He held it up. Not a tr
ue pink. It had once been white. A T-shirt that had absorbed colour from the sodden clothes beneath. The clothes had a smell he recognised. The ferrous smell of blood.

  Luke stared at the T-shirt. He’d seen one similar to this before. One like this had caused a pile of trouble. It was printed across the chest with BAN THE HUNT and it had a fox motif. He pulled his latex gloves out of the pocket of his white coat and put them on. He delved into the blue bag again.

  Out came jeans, a pair of socks, a flowery bra, and a pair of panties. He laid them carefully across the plastic bag. All were soaked in blood. He surveyed the clothes. Then he spotted something, the outline of something he’d missed. Something small. Poking the garments aside, he put his hand back inside the bag. He pulled out a small white card:

  Property of Nina Forde-Thompson (Deceased)

  He pushed open the car door and breathed. He had to process this. Leaving the door open, he turned again to look at the blood-soaked clothes, scrutinising them. Nina had a T-shirt like this. But was this hers? And the jeans? How could he know? They had been ripped intentionally. It was the design. Looking closer, he spotted writing in several places between the blood. Ban the hunt. It was Nina’s handwriting. These were Nina’s clothes. Luke placed the clothes back in the bag and secured the top with a knot.

  Anyone could have had access to his car. He hadn’t been able to lock it for weeks. Fran had just reminded him to drop the car off at the garage on his way to the hospital the following morning. She’d arranged a replacement car for the day.

  Making his way across the wet car park, he looked up at the windows of the four-storey cardiac surgery unit. Consulting rooms, waiting rooms and offices all had a full view of the car park. Craning his neck, he made out Fran’s collection of potted plants up against a window. He scanned the rest of the building. His eyes registered movement. Had someone stepped back from a different window? Had someone up there been watching him as he’d bundled the blue plastic hospital bag into the back of his car? He shuddered as drops of rain hit his face. He felt powerless. He was no closer to figuring out whoever was orchestrating any of this.