Guilty

by Siobhan MacDonald

  She cleared her throat.

  ‘It meant continuing our relationship. I’d have to continue sleeping with you. There were times I almost gave up. My head would explode at the hideousness of it all. Every muscle, every sinew in my body would scream in disgust. Afterwards, I’d have to rush to the bathroom to clean myself. I so nearly gave in to the urge to strangle you. I had to try not to keep pulling the knot and choking you. So very hard.’

  Alison looked stunned. Luke felt numb.

  Sophie looked from him to Alison, to the laptop. ‘I knew what I must do. I had to reconstruct a hell like mine, especially for you.’ Two spots of colour appeared on her cheeks. ‘By the way you’re looking at the screen, I’d say I’ve done my job.’

  ‘You have.’ Luke was desperate. ‘For pity’s sake, end this now. You’re not a murderer. Don’t let my actions turn you into one. Nina’s going to drown … don’t do this.’

  The spots on Sophie’s cheeks stained a deeper red.

  ‘I set all this up so you could take the same journey you forced me to. It’s your pain I want to witness, not Nina’s. I want you to call out to God in desperation. I want you to feel a pain so strong that you feel your insides have ruptured. I want you to feel the agony that only a parent can feel. I want you to make all manner of bargains with God to spare your child. And I want you to have to endure. Above all else, I want that. Because that is what you made me do. Endure.’

  ‘I know what I did was unforgiveable.’ He felt hope ebbing away. ‘Please, bring this to an end.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s nearly over. And it’s true what you say, I’m not a murderer. All of this is in God’s hands. If the waters start to subside, I’ll take that as a sign. I’ll release Nina. What you’re witnessing here is the final act.’ Sophie paused as if reflecting on something. ‘I’m glad I didn’t take your life that night, Luke. Watching you go through all the stages these past few months has been cathartic. Replicating what I went through. It was difficult to get them all in sequence. I did the best I could. And I gave you a warning, which was more than I got—’

  ‘A warning?’

  ‘The message on your boathouse? “Guilty”. I’m assuming you saw that, although you never said.’

  ‘That was you?’

  ‘Of course. And the funeral announcement. That should have come much later. But I had to take my chances when I could.’

  ‘So, it was you who placed the death notice in the paper,’ Alison whispered. ‘The Herald couldn’t explain it.’

  ‘It was me.’

  Luke didn’t take his eyes from the screen. He had to stay with Nina. Brown murky foam was slapping up against her cheeks.

  ‘That was easy,’ Sophie continued. ‘When Maisie was small I couldn’t get work as a nurse so I worked part-time at the Herald, accounts and invoicing. I could still access their system so I could arrange the death notice without leaving a trace.’ She turned to Luke. ‘The announcement about the closure of your private rooms was more challenging. I borrowed headed notepaper and a credit card from your office. Tricky under the watchful eye of that bitch, Fran. In the end, a spilled coffee got her out of the room for a while. It’s quite something to see your child’s death notice in the paper, isn’t it?’

  Bits and pieces of that horrendous morning came back to him. Sophie’s concern as he’d read the paper. Her eyes searching his. The way she’d examined his face. He’d mistaken it all for empathy.

  ‘You can close your mouth now, Luke,’ said Sophie. ‘I have to say your reaction surprised me that day. High-tailing it off to Crow Hall. You didn’t know who to suspect, who to trust, did you?’

  She turned to Alison, who hadn’t said a word.

  ‘What dysfunctional relationships you all have,’ she said. ‘None of you trust one another, do you? Although, from the little I know of you, I can see why Luke wouldn’t trust a snake like you or your father. Lie with dogs and you’ll get fleas.’

  ‘You need help,’ said Alison. ‘We can help you.’

  ‘No, my dear,’ said Sophie calmly. ‘You’re the ones who need help. The ones who are sick. You’re the ones who put Maisie in hospital. Tubes down her throat, a fractured skull, open head wounds. Do you have any idea how horrific that is?’

  ‘That thing I collected at the post office?’ asked Luke. ‘That revolting casket … that was you as well?’

  Sophie’s face changed. ‘It genuinely upset me to do that.’ She was solemn. ‘It brought everything back. I had to do it. How else were you ever going to understand what you had done? It was only a doll. But I hope you experienced a little of what I felt. I had to watch my living, breathing child turn into a cold, waxen carcass.’

  ‘And the memoriam cards. The bag of clothes …’ Luke was making all the diabolical connections.

  ‘All me.’ Sophie nodded. ‘It’s quite a thing to see your child’s bloodied clothes stuffed into a plastic bag. Did you know that her beautiful white dress was ripped right up the middle? They’d had to cut her out of it. I heard you complaining about problems with your car locks. So I took a chance that the door would open. Tell me, how was it, seeing a bag of your daughter’s clothes, all bloody and torn to shreds?’

  ‘Why did you never tell me any of this, Luke?’ asked Alison.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Sophie leaning back, watching them intently.

  He turned to Alison. ‘I never told you because I didn’t know who was behind it,’ he said. ‘When I found out it couldn’t have been Sebastian Considine because he was in prison, I figured that it could have been you.’

  ‘Me? Are you mad?’

  Luke spoke, keeping his eyes on the laptop. ‘I thought it could be you, with your father, and possibly Gilligan, playing mind games. It’s the sort of crap Cornelius would get up to. I thought maybe you were looking for a way to unnerve me … to discredit me. I know stuff. I knew Cornelius didn’t trust me. I thought he maybe found out I was seeing a therapist and thinking of handing myself in. I thought it could be a warning.’

  ‘Oh my, what a family,’ Sophie said softly.

  Tears ran down Alison’s cheeks and her nose began to run.

  ‘Stop snivelling. I have tissues here somewhere. Now where are they?’

  She picked up her handbag and put it on the kitchen table. She rummaged around the bag. Suddenly, she turned it upside down. Luke jumped as the contents scattered all across the table. Among the tie-wraps, a tube of lipstick drum-rolled eerily across the table towards him, slipping off the edge and clattering onto the hard floor.

  There was something else. A roll of stickers. The sickly lime green colour was hard to miss. He could make out the letters ILLEGALLY PAR. He drew a sharp breath.

  ‘This came in handy,’ Sophie looked at Luke. ‘The public was parking in spaces reserved for Terence’s practice. Some people have no respect when it comes to parking spaces.’

  Luke glanced back at the laptop. He couldn’t see Nina.

  ‘She’s gone under. Jesus Christ, Sophie, have pity. You don’t really mean to do this!’

  A jagged pain seared through his temples. His vision blurred. He pulled and yanked at his restraints, feeling a burning where they cut into his wrists. He felt a warm trickle of blood run down his fingers. It wasn’t any use. Sophie walked around to glance at the laptop. As she turned, Luke spotted movement. What was that? Had he been mistaken? She was there. It was Nina. There she was again, dark snakes of hair swirling over her face. She was still alive.

  Sophie returned to the chair and sat. ‘You know that Kevin didn’t own a suit? Or at least not a formal one that he could wear to Maisie’s funeral. Apart from our wedding I’d never seen him in one and he hired that. As Maisie lay in the hospital morgue, we went into the city. The assistants in the shop fussed, adjusting lapels, straightening trouser legs, telling him how smart he looked. You should have seen their faces when he told them he was burying his child.’ She gave a mirthless smile.

  The missing pieces were sl
otting into their horrendous homes. This warm, attractive woman, in whose company he had felt appreciated, had chiselled a way into his heart. But everything she’d said, everything she’d done, was a deceit. A cold, exacting plan to wreak revenge.

  A profound feeling of despair and sadness descended on him. Nina was going to drown. There was nothing more he could say. He squeezed his eyes shut, giving himself up to the inevitable. He hoped it would be quick. He wanted Nina to give herself up to the waves. He wanted her agony to come to an end.

  ‘Would Kevin want you to do this on Maisie’s account?’ he tried one last time. ‘Does he even know what you are doing?’

  The doorbell pierced the silence. Sophie jumped up from the chair. She pulled the laptop towards her and tapped the keyboard. She was looking at the front-door camera. A shadow crossed her face. She stood and headed to the hall.

  The Truth

  Luke twisted his head to see. Sophie was at the front door. She hesitated. There came the sound of the door clicking open. Luke couldn’t see who was there.

  ‘Sophie …’

  A moan of pain. A body hitting the floor.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Sophie was astride the figure, whose raincoat was lying on the floor. There came the sound of scuffling. Whoever it was had been surprised and overpowered. Luke turned away, no longer able to suffer his screaming neck muscles.

  Whoever was on the floor was no good any more. He knew the voice. A pleasant voice. A soothing voice. He’d heard it many times before. He glanced at Alison. Her cheeks bled with mascara where tears had found a gully down her cheeks. It felt odd to see her vulnerable.

  Sophie reappeared, steering the hunched-over figure towards the table.

  ‘Over there,’ she commanded.

  Terence Black.

  He was buckled over, groaning, his wrists tied behind him. A slight man, he would have been easier to overpower than Luke. Sophie guided him onto the chair on the other side of Luke. Sitting down, he looked up from under his rain-soaked fringe. He was ashen.

  ‘You OK?’ Luke asked.

  ‘I’m so sorry—’ Terence began. His body spasmed as if he might throw up. His attention was diverted to the laptop on the table. Confused, his eyes widened and they filled with horror.

  Sophie moved her chair to the end of the table so that Terence, Luke and Alison sat in a row with an unobstructed view as they faced the laptop. Nina was drowning right in front of them. The rising water slapped about her head and between very few waves was she managing to draw any air.

  ‘That’s Nina?’ Terence whispered as he looked at the screen.

  ‘Yes,’ Sophie confirmed. ‘That’s Nina.’

  ‘This is your doing?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘You don’t really want to do this, Sophie, do you?’

  There it was. That soothing voice that Luke had come to know so well. Luke’s distress was too acute to let him speak. Compelled to witness his daughter’s death was beyond what he could do. Still she fought. She spluttered and spat. Luke no longer wanted her to resist. He wanted it to be over. He wanted Nina to escape her torment. He closed his eyes, willing her to succumb. He was in a pit. Every second an eternity. He couldn’t watch, yet how could he abandon Nina to leave this world alone? He forced his eyes to open. He was her father. He would have to keep vigil.

  ‘Sophie. Sophie, look at me,’ Terence tried to reason. ‘Whatever this is, you’ve made your point.’

  ‘I find it’s helping, Terence. I find it cathartic. You of all people should understand that. I know you know exactly what this man did fifteen years ago. But did you know that the child was my daughter?’

  ‘I only learned that an hour or so ago and I’m truly sorry,’ Terence said gently. ‘Sophie, just what exactly is it that you think Luke did?’

  ‘You want me to give you a step-by-step?’ she asked coolly.

  ‘That might be helpful.’

  Sophie pushed back her chair and stood. She looked at Terence, appearing to think. ‘All right then, have it your way.’ She began to walk around the table. ‘On May the twenty-seventh fifteen years ago – a beautiful, sunny day – a bunch of kids all over County Clare woke up excited about their first communion. My daughter Maisie just so happened to be one of those excited children.’ Luke heard her footsteps coming to a stop behind him.

  The footsteps recommenced. ‘On the same day, Doctor Luke Forde here, along with his wife Alison, also sitting here, attended a party to celebrate the first communion of another child. Luke Forde,’ with a wave of her arm she indicated to Luke, ‘was drinking at this party.’ Sophie stopped her pacing. She rested her eyes on Terence, then Luke and on to Alison. Her expression hardened.

  ‘Later that evening, my little girl went out for a spin on her bike. But unbeknownst to Maisie, Luke Forde had taken to the road in his car. He had left the party and he was taking a shortcut home – a route through the Talbot estate that passes close to my home. The home I used to live in with Maisie and my husband, Kevin.’ She paused and looked directly at Luke. ‘Doctor Luke Forde was drunk. Not fit to be behind the wheel. But that didn’t stop him driving.’ There was steely venom in her voice.

  ‘On Doctor Forde’s way home to his fancy house with his fancy wife he ploughed straight into a little girl. He drove into her, knocked her off her bike and sent her flying. My little girl. But the neighbourhood was quiet that night. Ireland was playing on the television. What a stroke of luck for Luke and Alison that no one was around to see what had happened. So what does the good doctor do?’ Sophie recommenced her walkabout. ‘Does he rush to her aid? Does he administer CPR? Does he phone an ambulance?’ She stops again. Behind him. ‘No. The good doctor does none of those things. He leaves her there. He leaves my Maisie lying there. He takes off and abandons the scene of the accident. He drives off. A doctor. He didn’t even try to save her. A doctor, for God’s sake. And that, Terence, is exactly what Luke did.’

  ‘OK, Sophie. Listen very carefully,’ said Terence calmly. ‘Do you trust me?’

  Luke heard the hesitation in her voice. She returned to her chair and sat, considering the question.

  ‘I suppose so … yes.’

  ‘Right, then. I’m going to tell you a story and you’ll have to concentrate. Here’s what really happened that night,’ he took a breath, ‘and Luke, please step in if there’s something I’m missing.’

  Terence’s words came quickly at first, slipping over one another in a cascade. ‘You’re right, Sophie. Luke had been drinking that day. And just like you said, Luke was in the car that hit Maisie. But here’s where you’re mistaken.’ He paused, his expression grave. ‘Luke was in the car all right; however, there’s a “but” here. It’s a big “but”, and a critical “but” …’ He stopped again. Luke wrenched his eyes away from the laptop. The therapist was making sure he had Sophie’s full attention before going on. Sophie’s gaze was locked on to Terence with intense concentration. Satisfied, Terence proceeded. ‘Contrary to what you believe, Luke is not the sort to get behind the wheel when he’s been drinking. Neither did he get behind the wheel the day your daughter died. Luke was in the car, as I said … but Luke was in the passenger seat.’ Terence stopped a moment and then said very deliberately, ‘The person driving the car that day was not Luke. It was Alison …’

  Luke turned to Sophie as she absorbed these words. Her eyes narrowed in momentary suspicion and confusion, wondering if she were somehow being tricked. Could this be true? Alison had been the one driving the car?

  Luke now turned to look at his wife and witnessed a flicker of alarm. Alison opened her mouth to protest.

  ‘But—’

  ‘But what, Alison?’ said Luke. ‘You thought I couldn’t recall everything that happened properly? Yeah, you’re right. I wasn’t able to, at least not until Terence took me step by step through the events of the day of the accident. You always behaved as if I had been the driver. But it was always odd. I could never remember getting behind the
wheel. I always assumed it was because I didn’t want to. Because I’d been drinking. Because of the accident itself. It was that old Mercedes of your father’s, remember? His favourite. The one that only you and he were allowed to drive. Yet both you and your father led me to believe that I had been the one driving.’

  When the truth had revealed itself that day in Terence’s office, Luke was shocked. But rather than challenge Alison with the truth, he’d thought it safer to keep his mouth shut. If Alison was capable of that, it was clear she was capable of anything.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Luke.’ Alison’s lip trembled.

  ‘No, you’re not. You don’t even know the meaning of the word, Alison. You really don’t.’

  Luke glanced at Sophie. Would it make a jot of difference to her that he had not been the one behind the wheel? Terence said nothing, allowing the impact of the words to percolate the room.

  ‘No …’ Sophie shook her head slowly.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Terence. ‘I’m telling you the truth of what happened. This all unfolded during one of our later sessions.’

  Luke had only ever allowed himself scant comfort that he had not been the one driving. It was relevant but it was immaterial to what happened to Maisie Sweetman. In the end, it was his inaction that had killed the child.

  Sophie was now off-balance. A fog of confusion spread across her face. ‘Is this true?’ She looked at Alison.

  Alison’s eyes bulged. She nodded.

  Sophie shook her head and turned again to Terence. ‘But Luke didn’t go to help her, he didn’t even try to save her …’

  She turned to Luke with eyes that burned.

  ‘You know why?’ Terence asked, calmly. ‘Because his wife got to the scene first.’