Deep Water

by Mark Ayre

  Abbie said nothing.

  "One question," said Alice. "You answer it yes or no. You say nothing else. Do you understand?"

  Abbie waited several seconds, then said, "Sorry, is that the question?"

  "Now is not the time to mess me around, Abbie. Not the time for jokes. Do you understand?"

  "I do."

  "The question: did you attack my daughter?"

  "How can you ask her that?" Ana blurted. "Don't you believe me? Mother, you can't take her word—"

  "Shut up," Alice cut in. "For once in your life, use your head, Ana. You're my daughter. I love you. Remember that."

  Ana's confused, frustrated expression displayed a clear misunderstanding of these words, a warning that Alice's maternal love was Ana's most potent weapon in convincing her mother to believe her over Abbie. Ana's constant arguing did not augment this motherly love's persuasion, but diminished it. In other words, shut up if you want to win this mock trial.

  Abbie got it. It further helped her cause that Ana did not.

  "I don't understand why—"

  Alice spoke to Abbie over her daughter. "Did you attack my daughter? Yes or no."

  "She's going to—"

  "Yes," said Abbie. Shock almost knocked Ana over. Alice showed no reaction but noted her daughter's. Another point in Abbie's column.

  "Ana," Alice said. "Why did this woman attack you?"

  "I don't know," said Ana at once. "Could have been random, but I reckon she's working for Louis. He won't leave us alone. Not until he's broken you completely. We warned you, ma, you've got—"

  "Enough," said Alice. "Were you alone when Abbie attacked?"

  Ana looked at Abbie, who could see the younger woman's mind whirring with a similar conundrum to the one Abbie had faced. There was no chance Ana would tell the whole truth. She was trying to decide how dishonest she should be.

  "It was Gray and me," said Ana, at last, offering her mother a half measure of truth in terms of how many people had been there. "We were in that little crevice just down the beach. We were… well, you know…"

  "Unfortunately, I do," said Alice. "Moving past that, Abbie attacked you both?"

  "She jumped us, yeah. Got the better of Gray and took him out. She's an incredible fighter; I'll give her that."

  "Thank you," said Abbie, and Alice shot her a dark look. Okay, that had been a mistake.

  "She knocked him out and attacked me. Then, it's like I said, she ran when my friends arrived. Smashed my head first, though.”

  Alice gave her daughter a piercing look. To Abbie, Ana's guilt was plain to see, but maybe she saw only what she knew or wanted to see.

  "I love you, darling," said Alice. "Before I talk to Abbie, is there anything else you'd like to say?"

  "Mum," Ana said, and Abbie saw she was about to put the final nail in her coffin. "I'm begging you, if you love me, just believe me. If you love me, you wouldn't need to ask this cow why she did what she did. Please."

  Ana's eyes were wet, but Abbie sensed they were the tears of a crocodile rather than a human. Stepping forward, Alice outstretched a hand and tenderly cupped her daughter's chin.

  "Don't you see, sweetheart," Alice said. "It's because you keep saying things like that I have to ask for Abbie's side of the story. You're my daughter. If this was a random attack, what do you have to fear from me speaking with your assailant?"

  "She'll lie," said Ana.

  "So?" said Alice. "Why would I believe her over my own daughter?"

  "She'll be convincing."

  "Oh, sweetie," said Alice. "If Abbie lies, I'll know, and she will pay for what she’s done. If you've been honest with me, you have nothing to fear from me hearing Abbie out. Before I do, I ask again: is there anything else you'd like to say?"

  Ana looked her mother dead in the eye. "If you believe her over me, I'll never forgive you."

  Abbie had been wrong before. That was the final nail in the coffin.

  Shaking her head with disappointment, Alice turned to Abbie. "Talk. Keep it brief."

  Abbie intended to.

  "This morning, right after arriving in town, I walked along the beach and entered the crevice your daughter describes. I saw Ana, Gray, a man with a camera, and a teenage boy I later found out was Jacob Gravenbach. Ana had forced Jacob to his knees and told him she would cut off his penis and make him eat it if he did not perform fellatio on her boyfriend. Either scenario, Ana warned Jacob, her friend would film. Gray began to undo his trousers; Jacob had made his decision. At this point, I lost my temper. I rendered unconscious both the cameraman and Gray. Your daughter came at me with her knife, and I grabbed her by the throat, shoved her against the rocks. I took her knife and, I must confess, came close to killing her. I don't remember the last time I was that angry. It's been many, many years."

  Having finished, Abbie turned her head towards the sea. She had tried to deliver the speech without emotion, but as she recalled the scene from the cave, fury once more began to take over. She felt her mouth twitch as her hands began to shake. From Abbie's eyes, Alice looked to those trembling hands, then back.

  Still holding Abbie's eye, Alice addressed her daughter.

  "Is she lying, Ana?"

  Ana was looking over her mother's shoulder at Abbie. The younger woman was incandescent with rage; it took time to get ahold of herself.

  "Of course she's lying, I already told you."

  Alice closed her eyes. She made no sound, and nothing showed on her lined features, but Abbie got the impression she was counting down from ten, attempting to repress her rage.

  "Okay," she said. “Thank you, Ana. Please, go to your room."

  Ana looked at the back of her mother's head. Stared at it as though willing Alice to face her. Alice didn't

  "Mum, you believe me, don't you? You believe me?"

  "You're my daughter, Ana. You would never lie to me, would you?"

  "Of course I wouldn't." The lie came easily. Alice almost staggered at the latest emotional blow.

  "Then I believe you. Please, go to your room."

  "What will you do with her?"

  Though Alice wasn't looking at Ana, Ana pointed at Abbie.

  "Right now," said Alice, "that isn't your concern."

  More silence. Abbie had regained her composure. Like Alice, she found she could not look at Ana and instead focused on the drained mother.

  "Mum, will you look at me?"

  "Go to your room," Alice repeated. "Go on now, I won't tell you again. I'll be up to see you as soon as I've dealt with Abbie. Please, go."

  Ana stared at her mother's head a few seconds longer. Fear and confusion blemished her beautiful face. She wanted to think her mother believed her, but those for whom lies were more natural than honesty always struggled to believe anyone else was telling them the truth.

  Afraid of what her mother was thinking, Ana tried to think of something she could say to win her mother back, But there was nothing.

  "Thank you, mummy," she said. "I love you."

  "And I you, sweetheart. Off you go."

  This time, Ana did. Abbie watched the young woman retreat from the room, turn in the kitchen, and disappear towards the front door and stairs.

  Once Ana was out of sight, Alice turned to where her daughter had been, stared for a moment as though seeing the memory of her girl, then closed the door between bar and kitchen. Facing away from Abbie, Alice raised a hand and touched her face. Wiping away tears. The matriarch would not want Abbie to see what Alice considered to be a moment of weakness.

  "I need a drink," she said at last. "Gin and tonic, I think. Would you like one?"

  Abbie heard no pounding feet upstairs that might indicate Ana had fulfilled her mother's wishes and gone to her room. She did hear what she thought was the front door opening.

  "No, thank you," she said. "I don't drink when I'm…"

  "On a mission to save a life?" Alice asked when Abbie trailed off, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

  "Pretty much."
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  "But you don't mind if I partake?"

  "Not even a little bit."

  Stepping behind the bar, Alice removed from one of the many shelves a labeless glass bottle, half full of clear gin. From a fridge concealed beneath the bar, she took another, smaller glass bottle, this one full of tonic.

  "My daughter's actions will haunt me until the day I die," said Alice, not looking at Abbie. "Lucky that's today, eh?"

  Unsure what response this comment warranted, Abbie said nothing. It was enough to hear Alice confirm whose story she believed.

  With an unsteady hand, Alice unscrewed the cap from the gin. Hand affixed to the bottle, she paused.

  "You said you couldn't remember the last time you felt as angry as when you learned what Ana was about to do to Jacob."

  Alice had not made this a question. In any case, Abbie nodded. "That's right."

  "I get that," said Alice. "The thought of it fills me with rage. It twists and turns in my stomach, filling me with fire like a restless dragon. Look at me; I'm shaking." She lifted the gin to better demonstrate this condition. "I think such rage can only come from personal experience. From truly appreciating what it was Ana almost forced Jacob to suffer. Do you agree?"

  "Trick question," said Abbie.

  The ghost smile grew a little stronger on Alice's lips.

  "You're right, and it's not okay, trying to trick you into confessing to past trauma. I apologise."

  "No need," said Abbie. But that was all. She could not confirm this trauma from her past, which still caused her much suffering all these years later.

  Alice moved on while pouring plenty of gin into a tumbler.

  "I sent my daughter away to protect her. I saw the truth, and as the rage seized me, I almost lost control. I almost grabbed Ana’s hair and smashed her face into this bar." She rapped her knuckles on the hardwood. Replacing the gin on its shelf, she unscrewed the tonic. "What kind of mother does that make me?"

  "Your anger is understandable," said Abbie. “Losing control to our strongest emotions is human. It doesn’t make us bad people or bad parents. What makes you a great parent is your ability to master that anger long enough to remove your daughter from harm’s way."

  "You're too kind."

  "Maybe. But I don't believe so."

  Alice had her hand on the opened tonic but had yet to pour. Glancing at the bottle, as though surprised, she picked it up.

  "I honestly believe Ariana has no comprehension of the damage her actions might have caused Jacob, long term. She never would have emasculated him with a knife. She knew the threat would make him do what she wanted, and she thought what she wanted would only humiliate him and, more importantly, his father. How could she understand the psychological suffering she was to inflict on Jacob, had he capitulated to her demand?"

  Once more, Abbie chose silence. It was possible Alice was right, but Abbie’s anger would overpower any attempt Abbie made to agree with the mother’s sentiment. To avoid spitting bile, Abbie kept her mouth shut tight.

  With a trembling hand, Alice began to pour her tonic.

  She said, "Does Tony know what Ariana almost did?"

  "Yes."

  "What did he say?"

  A beat. Another chance to choose lie or truth. Having stuck on the honesty track so far, Abbie persisted.

  "He was surprised Ana didn't go after Kyle. Because Kyle's younger."

  A tremor shot through Alice's arm, and tonic slopped across the bar. Alice stared at the mess, only regaining her senses when Abbie stepped forward to help. She raised a hand.

  "No, it's okay."

  Alice tipped what remained of the tonic into her tumbler and threw the empty bottle into a glass bin beneath the bar. Grabbing a cloth from near the bin, she lifted her tumbler, wiped its base, then wiped the surface with jerking, feverish motions. When the bar was dry, Alice made the cloth disappear and took a large gulp of gin.

  “Tony and Aurora were my sweetest children," Abbie said at last. "The wouldn't-hurt-a-fly kind. Adam is loyal. Angel, my second child, Adam’s full sister, is driven, determined, ruthless. Alex, my third child and Tony’s full sister, is the fun-loving party girl.”

  Abbie had drawn the same conclusion about Tony, despite the gun he carried and the claim he intended to make an end of Louis. She kept quiet, waiting to hear about the remaining child.

  “Ariana was brilliant,’ said Alice. “By far and away the smartest of my children. As a result of that intelligence, she has also always been fiery and impetuous. She has a natural allure that has allowed her to effortlessly accrue followers throughout her life. A neat trick.”

  Tony had mentioned this same ability, though he had painted it negatively rather than in a positive light.

  “But she was also funny and fun, with the potential for great kindness,” said Alice. "Until her dad died, and I landed myself in prison. After that, Ana turned in on herself. She continued to achieve outstanding academic results. Went to university and law school, if you can believe it. But the loss of her parents—one to death, one to prison—made her bitter, while the murder of her little sister has twisted and warped her into something she should never have become. Something dark and cruel. Maybe that's why I make excuses for her, because I believe she is a victim of circumstance, and I despise myself for the part I have played in her downfall. I also believe she is redeemable. Despite the crushing weight of her grief and what that has done to her soul, I believe someone can save her."

  Abbie was not sure about any of this but could not resist using Alice's words to her advantage.

  “Someone could save her,” she repeated. “But what better someone than her mother? You could save her if only you would let me help you.”

  Alice drank some more, her eyes on Abbie. She was confused, unsure.

  "I need to do this. I have to know what happened to Aurora; I must make her killer pay."

  "I'm not saying don't go. Just tell me where and when, and I'll do everything I can to protect you from whoever Louis brings. You'll get your shot at the bastard. I won't stop that. I promise."

  More of the gin disappeared. The glass was almost empty, but Alice remained on the fence. In the older woman's eyes, Abbie read a desire to be pushed to the right side. Maybe she saw what she wanted to see, but Abbie thought Alice wanted to be persuaded.

  "When I saw Ana on the beach," Abbie said, "I thought she was heartless. I imagined no one in this world held her trust or love. Then I saw how she was with you. You may feel you abandoned her by going to prison, that you don't deserve her love, but you have it. Ana loves you and is desperate for your love and respect in return. You may fear what she's become, but I don't think it's too late for you to guide her back to the right path. You can do that, Alice. Can anyone else?"

  Alice finished her gin. Glanced longingly to the bottle behind the bar. Perhaps to help her resist the call of the alcohol, she stepped from around the bar and took Abbie's shoulder. She was still on the fence but falling. Abbie thought Alice was ready to do the right thing, to accept Abbie's help.

  The door from the kitchen opened.

  Releasing Abbie's shoulder, Alice turned. A woman in her late thirties or early forties entered. Like her much younger sister, she was stunning. Unlike Ana, this daughter of Alice possessed a beauty that was more elegant than sexy. The kind of beauty evident from birth, and that would remain as the years slipped away. When most of her contemporaries had lost the looks of their youth, this woman would still be turning heads.

  "Angel," said Alice. "School run done already?"

  "Ollie’s suspended," said Angel. Her voice was sharp like a blade. The kind of voice you could never imagine being soft. "Fighting, again. He's very distressed."

  "I understand," said Alice. "This is a difficult time for all—"

  "I've just spoken with Ariana," Angel cut in. "She's upset. This is the woman who attacked her?"

  "This is Abbie," said Alice. "When she and I are done, I’ll speak with Ana."

  "A
nd what will you say?" said Angel. "Your daughter will expect to hear how you’ve dealt with the woman who mercilessly attacked her. Forgive me, but this looks more like making friends than making her pay.

  "Your mother thinks I'm redeemable," said Abbie. "She's offered to adopt me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited, but I have to make sure she'd still love me if my name didn't begin with an A."

  "Abbie," said Alice, "now is not the time."

  "No," said Angel. "Now is the time for making this bitch understand we protect each other in this family. Assuming that’s still true?”

  Even as she grew more irate, angrier, Angel’s beauty was unaffected. That was unfair, but Abbie tried not to dwell. She focused on Angel's eyes, from which she learned this was about more than just Abbie and Ana. This was about Aurora, too.

  "I appreciate your concern," said Alice, keeping a level tone. "But I would ask you leave this to me."

  "No," said Angel. "Not until you tell me how you intend to deal with this woman."

  Abbie resisted the urge to reiterate her name to Angel. Alice took a breath.

  "No harm will come to Abbie today.”

  Angel's smile was mocking. "Of course."

  Alice closed her eyes. Took another breath.

  "Angel. I can see you're upset, but until you know the full story—“

  "I know the full story. Ana told me."

  "That's one side of the story."

  "Yes. Our family's side. The side that matters."

  "Don't be so naive," said Alice. "Your sister planned to have her boyfriend rape an innocent teenager."

  "What teenager?" said Angel.

  "Jacob Gravenbach."

  "You're mistaken," said Angel.

  "You think this was a random attack?"

  "No, I believe Jacob was there. You're mistaken to call him an innocent."

  "He's a child."

  "So was Aurora."

  Alice lost her temper. "And she didn't deserve to die either. I will not lower myself to Louis' level. He alone will pay for his crime, as and when I can confirm the crime can indeed be attributed to him."