‘Betsy.’
Dod says my name nicely. Like he’s not angry Dod anymore.
I take the sheet down from my face a little bit and see him standing by my bed. His face isn’t as red anymore. His hands aren’t closed as if he is going to hit me again.
‘Why did you do that, sweetheart?’
He only calls me sweetheart when he is being good Dod. Maybe he is good Dod again. Good Dod hasn’t been here in a long time.
‘Why did I scream?’
Dod nods his head. I look at Bozy and then back at Dod. I don’t know if I should tell him the real truth. But maybe I should be telling the truth all the time. Maybe I won’t get hurt if I tell the truth all the time. I wipe my eyes and then look up at Dod.
‘I wanted to go to heaven.’
Dod’s eyes get bigger. I think he is going to hit me again. But he just sits down. He puts his back against my wall and then puts his hands on his face. I think he is crying. I look at Bozy. Then back at Dod. Dod’s shoulders are going up and down. I take my sheets away and put one foot out of the bed. Then I put the other foot out of bed even though it really hurts my back. I take one step to be beside Dod and then put my arms around his shoulders to stop them going up and down. It’s like a hug. He is crying. I can hear him now. His cry is getting louder.
‘Don’t be sad, Dod.’
He grabs me. Puts his arms around me and we hug really tight. Really, really tight and for a long time. The hugging is hurting my back a lot. But I feel a bit happier. I am less scared.
‘I am sorry.’
Dod takes his arms away from around me and then he wipes his face with his two hands. He looks at me. There are more tears in his eyes. But they are not coming out.
‘No. I’m sorry.’
He grabs me for another hug. Another really tight hug. It hurts. But I don’t say anything. I just hug him back.
‘I will never, never do anything like that to you again.’ He says it really quietly into my ear. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you, Dod.’
I think I do. I read about love in my books. You love people who are your family and your friends and your wife and your husband. I don’t think Dod is any of those things to me. But I must love him. Because him and Bozy are the only people I know. Bozy is not even a person. But I definitely know I love Bozy.
‘I’m gonna buy all those books again. And more new ones. I promise.’ Dod is on his knees now. Staring at my face. ‘And you just need to promise that you will never do anything like that again. The neighbours could have heard you. It’s very dangerous.’
I’ve been really bad Betsy. Screaming was very dangerous. Very stupid.
‘I promise. I won’t make any noises again, Dod.’
He blows out through his mouth. His lips shake as he does it. It makes a silly noise. Like a fart.
‘Look at your eye.’ He rubs his thumb against my face. Up and down slowly.
‘Where hurts you the most?’
I turn away from him. Then I pick up the back of my T-shirt as far as I can. He helps by pulling it up a bit more. Then he sucks in a really big breath through his teeth.
12:35
Gordon
‘You can come out now, Keating.’
The door handle of the toilet cubicle clicks and his fat belly makes its way back to the ward first, followed by the rest of him; his sleazy fuckin grin stretched wide across his face. He wears that grin when he feels he needs to. He was wearing it the very first day I met him.
Our business was doing well. Guus and I had grown it into something really special; turning over a couple a million a year. It didn’t start out that way. When I first began as a freelance accountant, I was only really interested in making enough money to get a roof over my head. After I’d left University, I started to work for a big accountancy firm – Fullams. Three years later I realised for certain that working for somebody else wasn’t for me. So, using just eight loyal clients, I set up on my own. After a couple of years of continued growth, I decided I needed a partner. Guus was the first person I’d thought of, in fact I’d thought of him as a business partner long before I even realised I actually needed a business partner. We’d worked together at Fullams, sparked up not only a great friendship but a perfect working relationship too. His strengths paper over my weaknesses and my strengths paper over his. With my attention to detail on the numbers combined with Guus’s ability to sell our vision to new clients, we were the perfect cocktail. And we thrived. The zeros in our business accounts stretched month on month as soon as we partnered up. But of course, I got greedy. When Alan Keating arranged a meeting with me one Friday afternoon about twenty years ago, I was fascinated by his plan. He was turning over a few mill a year – and we’d get ten per cent if we were willing to cook his books for him. It felt like a no-brainer at the time; easy money. But I was being cocky; I was being a fuckin idiot. Had I not seen the dollar signs in front of my eyeballs and accepted Keating’s proposal that day I’m pretty certain that not only would I still be running my business, but I’d also still have my daughter, still have my wife. Still have my life. This fucker grinning in front of me right now ruined me.
‘So you’ve called off little Lenny Moon, yeah?’
I just nod, still unsure how or even why I’m letting this prick talk to me again.
He opened the door to my ward about twenty minutes ago, began to tell me that he was the one person who could fulfil my dying wish. Then we heard Elaine outside talking to Lenny. Keating said I shouldn’t mention that he’s here, to just get rid of Lenny and that he’d oversee the investigation for me. He hid in the toilet cubicle. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I still don’t.
‘As I was saying, Gordy, I did my own investigation at the time; it didn’t pull up anything. But let me have another dig around for you today. Who d’ye think’s more likely to get you answers in what could be your final few hours: Alan Keating or little Lenny Moon? He’s not even an investigator, he’s a fucking insurance pussy. He rats out people who are making scam insurance claims. He has no chance of finding answers for you about Betsy.’
I nod my head, melt my face into a soft look. I felt, for years, that this cunt was responsible for Betsy’s disappearance, yet I’ve never been able to join up all the dots.
‘I know you’ve always suspected me and Barry, but – trust me, Gordy – we had nothin’ to do with Betsy goin’ missin’. And I know you know that deep down. You’ve always known it.’
I shift in my bed a little. It’s funny that he thinks I’d trust him to find answers for me. I wouldn’t trust him with a bucket of water if my balls were on fire. I suck in a breath through my nostrils, but remain silent. I just tilt my head to look at him, wait for him to talk.
‘I’ll get on to the cops; I have a few of them in my pocket. I’ll get all of the information they have on the investigation into Betsy’s disappearance and I’ll act on it for you, how about that?’
I shift again in the bed. I really don’t want to give this prick the satisfaction of my forgiveness. But what else can I do? I may be dead in a few hours time. The more people out there looking for my Betsy, the better, even if I do get a huge sense that he’s bullshitting. I know Keating definitely has some cops on his payroll, but not high-ranking detectives; not cops who’ll give him classified information about a seventeen-year-old case.
‘But sure the cops think she’s dead,’ I say, finally speaking up.
‘You know as well as I do that that was just a theory because they couldn’t close off the investigation, right?’
He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes, as if him going all coy will bridge my forgiveness. He can do that, can Alan Keating; transform from looking like Ireland’s most notorious gangster into looking like a cute old granddad. He has the most persuasive forms of seduction; the fucker can get anybody on his side. It’s why I was intrigued by his business proposition twenty years ago. But I don’t trust the fucker. I wonder what he’s after. Alan Keating do
esn’t do anything unless there’s something in it for himself.
‘Why would you do this for me… after all the years I’ve insisted you had something to do with Betsy’s disappearance?’ I ask him.
‘I’ve always felt sorry for you, Gordy. For you and Michelle. I helped at the time, had my men look for Betsy. And I would’ve offered to help a lot more over the years only you went really cold on me. You made some outrageous claims to the cops about our dealings; almost got me into a lot of trouble.’
I shift again in the bed. I can’t get comfortable, not with this gurning prick in my room. But he’s right. I did rat him out; revealed all about his money funnels to Ray De Brun. I’m still not quite sure why it didn’t go much further. Keating covers his tracks too well, I guess. The small businesses he had set up under different names to filter his money through saved his bacon. That and the fact that I refused to become a witness for the state. I didn’t care about Keating’s money laundering then; the only thing that consumed my mind was finding Betsy.
‘Yeah… well I’m sorry about that, Keating, but y’know, I still don’t know who took Betsy and you were the only person at the time who had a problem with me… So I went on auto pilot, told the cops everything. I’d have done anything to find my daughter… still would.’
He places his hand on mine, much like Elaine did about half an hour ago.
‘I understand why you told the cops everything and I understand why you initially suspected me and Barry. But c’mon… still suspecting us today and having your little PI hang around our homes is crazy, Gordy. You need to believe me; I had nothing to do with Betsy going missing. I’m not that kinda gangster. You know that.’
He sits back down, his puppy dog eyes still on show. I don’t get why he’s being so nice to me. The fucker has always had intrigue pouring out of him.
‘Listen, our slate is clean. Let me help you investigate. What’ve you got to lose?’
I stare up at the stained ceiling of the ward, my mind racing in a million different directions.
‘You don’t do anything for nothing,’ I say.
His silence makes me turn to face him again. Then he shakes his head, removing the puppy-dog eyes; transforming from the cute old granddad back into the grinning gangster.
‘Just put the same offer you made to Lenny Moon on the table for me.’
I laugh. Should’ve known.
‘Ah, so you got out of Lenny just what I was offering him. You want my house.’
‘It’s a grand oul house,’ Keating says. He sucks his teeth as he says it too.
Then he takes a step towards me again. He doesn’t place his hand on top of mine this time. Instead he reaches for the pen on the bedside cabinet and then holds it towards me.
‘Rewrite your will, make me the benefactor of that house.’
Fourteen years ago
Betsy
‘It’s nice that, isn’t it?’
I don’t answer by talking. My mouth is too full. So I just rub my belly and smile at Dod. He smiles back at me.
‘I’ve more up in the kitchen. Think I’ll have one myself later.’
Dod’s sitting on the edge of my bed while I sit on my new chair. I love it. It’s all squishy and comfortable to sit in. I do a lot of my reading in this now, not in my bed like I used to. Though my bed is more comfortable than it’s ever been. Dod bought me loads of new things – a chair, a bed, shelves for all my books, lots of new books including loads of my favourites that he ripped up during that really angry night, magazines, colouring books, wallpaper. I forgot what wallpaper even was. When Dod put it up in my room I remembered I had some back in my Mummy and Daddy’s house. I had pink wallpaper then with my name Betsy written across it in white.
I tried not to feel bad when I thought about my old bedroom back at Mummy and Daddy’s house because Dod was being so nice to me and trying to make my bedroom all nice and fresh. The wallpaper he put up in here is yellow. Bright yellow. Yellow isn’t my favourite colour, but I still like it. Even though Dod has put loads of new things in my room, the room looks bigger. I have sixty-one books now. Amazing. My new favourite books are called Chronicles of Narnia. It’s seven different books all in a little box that Dod bought me.
He has been really nice ever since the angry night. I think that when I said I wanted to go to heaven that Dod felt really sad. That’s why he made my room more bright and beautiful and why he bought me loads of things. He buys me new things every day now. Today I got an ice cream. I’d never heard of an ice cream before, but it is delicious. It said on the wrapper that it was called Orange Split. I lick at the little stick, taking all of the cream off and then breathe. I think I ate all the ice cream without breathing.
‘Jaysus, ye milled all that.’
‘Milled?’
‘Yeah… like you ate it really fast, really quickly.’
‘Oh.’
I grab at my notebook and pen and write down the word ‘milled’ and then beside it write ‘to eat something really fast’.
I do this all the time if I am reading and don’t know a word. I’ll try to work it out for myself and if I can’t I’ll ask Dod when he pays me a visit. I love learning new words.
‘Can you get me another notebook, Dod, please?’
‘Ye running out of room on that one already?’
I flick through my notebook.
‘Not yet… but I want this one to be for new words but in a new notebook I would like to write my own story.’
‘A story? What’s your story going to be about?’
I look up at my ceiling. Even though the stone walls are now covered with wallpaper and my stone floor is mostly covered with an orange rug, the ceiling is still stone. It’s still cold.
‘I might write it about you.’
‘Bout me?’
‘Yes. I think I might call it Dod’s Adventures.’ He smiles a little bit at me. ‘It would be about what you do when you are not in my room. What you do when you are up there.’
I just point up the steps, I don’t look up them. Dod hasn’t been angry Dod in ages – not since the really angry night – but I still don’t want to make him turn into angry Dod, so I don’t look up the steps.
Dod laughs a little bit.
‘And what do you think I get up to up there?’
I stare up at the cold ceiling again. I don’t want to mention my Mummy and Daddy because I know that is how good Dod can turn into angry Dod.
‘Eh… I remember from before I came here that there was a thing called television. I used to watch a show called Thomas the Tank Engine. It was about trains. I think you probably watch television when you are not here with me.’
I close my eyes a bit because I’m not sure if talking about what happened before I came here will turn him into angry Dod. He moves off the bed and comes near me. He gets down on his knees right beside me.
‘And what do you think I watch on the television?’
I can smell his breath. It’s the same all the time. It smells warm. Every time I smell it, it reminds me of the day he stole me away from Daddy.
I open my eyes and look at him. He is smiling. That is good.
‘Do you watch Thomas the Tank Engine?’
He laughs. Then he shakes his head.
‘I eh… don’t know. How many things are on television?’
‘Too many things.’
I laugh this time.
‘I don’t know, Betsy… I watch the news.’
‘The news?’
‘Yeah – it’s a television programme where somebody reads out what happened around the world every day.’
‘Wow.’
That sounds really good. Really, really good. I would love to watch the news. But I don’t say anything else to Dod. I can’t ask if I can go up there anymore. He’s afraid I will scream again even though I never would. My back hurt for so many weeks after that last time. I still don’t think my back is as good as it used to be. I read in a book once that somebody broke their bo
nes. I think I might have broke a bone in my back. But Dod doesn’t let me see doctors or let doctors see me. Dod doesn’t let me see anyone. See anything.
‘You were on the news lots of times.’
I look at Dod.
‘Me?’
‘Yeah – lots of times. For lots of years.’
Dod stands up, puts his hand on my head and messes my hair like he does sometimes. Then he walks back up the steps.
‘I’m gonna go get me one of those Orange Splits.’
I turn around and watch as he goes up the steps and closes the door. Then I get out of my chair and crawl under my bed sheets to find my best friend.
‘Did you hear that, Bozy. We were on the television lots of times.’
12:40
Lenny
Lenny asked the taxi man to turn the radio off as soon as he got in the back seat. He needed all the headspace he has to think through his morning and is a typical man when it comes to multitasking; if Lenny needs to think, he needs to do so in silence. Right now, the only thing playing in his head is the vision of the will Gordon showed him when he was back at the hospital twenty minutes ago.
He stares at his phone.
‘I’m buyin’ a fuckin good phone from that grand,’ he mumbles, before eyeballing the rear-view mirror to see if the taxi man heard him.
‘Sorry?’ the taxi man says.
‘Ah nothing. Just this piece of shit phone. I need one of those with some internet on it. All it’s good for is making and taking calls.’
Lenny blinks rapidly, then his eyes widen. He clicks into his call history, sees the name ‘home’ and taps at it.
‘Hello.’
‘Sweetie, I need you to do me another favour,’ he says.
‘Go on.’ There was no sigh this time. Sally must be having a really good day.
‘Can you eh… can you check on Google what the requirement is for a will in Ireland?’
Whatever Happened to Betsy Blake? Page 10