The Silence

by Linda Tweedie

  “Four days ago. I couldn’t do anything over the weekend, so it was yesterday before I had a chance to do any checking.”

  “And?” prompted Paddy.

  “Well, I was sure it was the Allied Irish Bank, given that we’ve had a stream of paddies, sorry, my boy, I wasn’t thinking. Since we have played host to countless Irish men over the years. But I had no idea how I would get access to a safety deposit box. What would I need in the form of identification? O’Farrell had his passport with him and he’d never learned to drive so I was a bit limited.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “Well, I bargained that most of the staff would be either Irish or Catholic and if confronted with a priest I could blag my way in. I took correspondence from the parish and my passport, but I didn’t need anything.”

  “Really?” said an astounded Paddy. “They just let you walk in and rummage about in a safety deposit box?”

  “Being a member of the clergy does have its advantages. That and the fact wee Linda Ryrie from Admiralty Street was on the desk, and the fact I baptised her, gave her first Holy Communion and took her confession on a Saturday helped.”

  “She escorted me through to the strongroom. Apparently the possession of a key was all I required.”

  “Hey, on the next bank job I’ll just take you and leave the shooter at home,” joked Paddy. “Well, what was in it? A signed photo of Pope John Paul the Second and Mother Teresa in a compromising situation?”

  “Paddy, please.”

  “Okay, Father, but can you get to the point?”

  “Christ, laddie, I’ve not even scratched the surface. There was money, more money than I’ve ever seen in my life. More money than I could count and in different currencies, dollars, euros and sterling.”

  “It could be an IRA stash, nothing unusual in that.” Paddy answered quickly.

  “You could be right, but it wasn’t only the money, there were documents − birth and death certificates.”

  “Again, it could be Irish connections.”

  “There were account books, lists, information on some kind of merchandise, payments and delivery dates. I don’t think it was drugs, but it was the photographs of the children that got me. God knows how many of them, but they were strange. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know, but these snapshots were weird, certainly not what you’d expect a priest to keep hidden. I can tell you that there’s something very wrong going on and I don’t know what to do.”

  “What about his connections with the Adoption Society? That could account for them.”

  “Believe me, these were no photographs of poor little orphans, they were disturbing and, honest to God, I can’t get them out of my head.”

  “Porn? Were they explicit?”

  “No, but you know, it was like they were teasing or tantalising. Maybe that’s why they seemed strange to me.”

  “Our illustrious canon is definitely up to no good, but you said murders. Don’t tell me he had photographs of the dead bodies too?”

  “No, but believe it or not, he had a little black book with names, dates and places.”

  “Get away. How do you know it was a record of murders?”

  “Names crossed out and deceased written across them is a fairly substantial clue, a dead giveaway, wouldn’t you say?”

  “For fuck’s sake, this is getting dafter by the minute.”

  “Oh, and I nearly forgot, there was another key, not the same as the first, but it looked like it was for a locker of some kind.”

  “A locker? What did you do with it? I’d like a look.”

  Father Jack crossed the room and from beneath the old black and white portable television he produced the key.

  “There was no chance of it being found by the housekeeper, the lazy old beggar seldom dusts and certainly wouldn’t shift anything.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure this key is for a station locker. We use them from time to time.” Paddy examined the key.

  “The safest ones are at either Central or Queen Street Stations, so we should try them first.”

  “Today?” Father Jack queried.

  “No, next Thursday . . . of course today. When is your man due back?”

  “He’s usually away for a week to ten days, but this trip wasn’t scheduled so he could be longer or back tonight. I’ve no idea. And he certainly doesn’t confide in me.”

  “Right, let’s go, the car’s outside.”

  Friendship

  “I’m sorry, madam, but the store is closing in five minutes, I have to ask you to leave.” The shop assistant knocking on the cubicle door was becoming quite agitated; trust her to get stuck with a nutter who’d locked herself in the bogs. She was hoping the guy from Accounts was going to be waiting for her at the staff entrance, but if she didn’t get rid of this headcase soon, he’d be off.

  “I’m going to have to call security, madam. The store is now closed, I need you to vacate the ladies room and make your way to the exit.” Still nothing. Maybe it was a druggie, or a shop lifter? Oh God, they could turn violent if they got cornered. You heard of these situations all the time, especially here in Glasgow.

  “Is there something wrong, madam?”

  Still no reply. Shit, whoever it was could be unconscious or even dead. God, she hoped not. If that was the case she’d still be here at opening time tomorrow.

  There was movement. Suddenly the door shot open and a young girl of maybe eighteen or nineteen dashed out. The first thing the assistant spotted was the test box and she could see that the girl had been crying. Shit, she’d been there herself a couple of times. Bugger. The guy from Accounts would keep.

  “Hold on, wait a second.” She picked up the empty box and continued. “It looks like you’ve had a bit of bad news maybe?”

  The young girl barely nodded.

  Why the fuck was she getting involved? She should just let her go. Her friends were right, she was an interfering so-and-so and maybe she should keep her nose out of other people’s business. But she’d been desperate on a few occasions herself when she could have done with a kind word. She couldn’t let this kid walk out on her own.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked the youngster. “I’m Carol, what’s your name, sweetheart?” Talking nineteen to the dozen she led the girl towards the exit, grabbing her bag and coat as they left the store.

  “I know it’s overwhelming, but there are ways of dealing with these situations. Let’s grab a coffee and see if we can sort this mess out.” Carol, leading the way, was completely oblivious to the fact that the girl she’d taken under her wing had not yet uttered a word.

  The coffee shop was packed with young shop workers. It was warm, noisy and comforting. Erin felt like she was in a dream. How had she got here? Who was this girl handing her a hot steaming cup of something?

  “Right, it would help to know your name for starters,” Carol chirped at her.

  “God,” thought Erin. She was one of those do-gooders who was going to be a bugger to shake off. In her rush to leave the house, she’d just grabbed her keys. No bag, so no communication.

  “Okay, it doesn’t matter, you can tell me when we know each other a bit better,” said her new best friend. “Does the father know?”

  Erin just shook her head.

  “Is he still around?”

  Again she shook her head.

  “Do you want to keep it?”

  Erin pulled her crucifix from under her sweater and showed it to Carol.

  “Well, that answers that question. Do you know how far on you are?”

  Counting out the weeks on her fingers they came to the conclusion that it was maybe twelve weeks.

  “And you’ve just worked out how late you are? Phew! What about your family?” asked Carol. “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m just going through all the options.”

  Erin grabbed a napkin and gestured to Carol to give her a pen or something to write with.

  “I can’t speak,” she wrote.

  “Oh. My. Go
d.” bellowed Carol and the coffee shop went deathly quiet, most of the occupants turned to stare at the two girls.

  Why did everybody assume she was deaf as soon as they discovered she had no speech? “Don’t shout, I can hear perfectly well. I just can’t answer.”

  Carol grabbed the pen and paper and wrote, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t think.”

  “Why the devil are you writing?” laughed Erin for the first time in a long time.

  “I don’t know,” sniggered the shop assistant. “Let’s start again.”

  “Hello, my name is Carol, and you are?”

  “Erin.”

  “Okay, nice to meet you, Erin. Things are a bit shitty at the moment, aren’t they?” Carol asked the young girl.

  “A bit,” she wrote.

  “Do you want to tell me about it? Sometimes it’s easier with a stranger. I promise I won’t judge and I’ll keep it to myself.”

  “I think I’m pregnant,” wrote Erin. “No. I’m sure I’m pregnant,” sliding the two sticks discreetly out of her pocket and showing them to her new friend.

  “Yep, I’d say you were too.”

  An hour later, Carol had most of the story. Her family’s overprotection, the holiday to Marbella, meeting Bobby and then being dumped. It was pretty clear to Carol that Erin had definitely not gotten over this man and to find out she was pregnant was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

  “What are you planning on doing?” she asked Erin.

  “God knows. I only just realised that I was in this state a couple of hours ago. I thought I had a bug or something. I really don’t know what to do, but I can’t tell my family, that’s out of the question.”

  “Sure you wouldn’t consider a termination?”

  “I’d consider almost anything right now, but not that. It’s a mortal sin.”

  “Sorry, but I deal with the here and now, not the maybe and the hereafter, but, each to their own. First things first. You have to tell him. You never know, maybe he’ll do the right thing. Anyway, you’ve nothing to lose. Why don’t you phone him, see how the land lies?”

  “Phone him how? Neither of us is telepathic.”

  “Shit, I forgot. Sorry. Get someone to phone him for you. What about one of your mates, the ones you were on holiday with? At least they know him.”

  “I’m not telling any of them, that would be right up their street.”

  “Okay then, I could phone him.” Oh shit, this was getting her in even deeper. Why could she never keep her mouth shut? Carol argued with herself.

  “Would you? I’d be so grateful, but when?”

  “Let’s not rush into this,” Carol reasoned. “We need to think out exactly what you want to tell him ‘cause let’s face it, if you got a shock he’s going to get a bigger one.”

  “Then surely I would be better going back to Marbella and seeing him face to face?”

  “I suppose so, but what if, and this is a strong possibility, he just doesn’t want to know?”

  “I don’t know, I really don’t know.”

  “Look, it’s my day off tomorrow, why don’t we meet up and sort something out properly?”

  “Are you sure?” Erin wrote. “I don’t really have anyone I could trust. They’re all scared stiff of my dad and would go straight to him.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Carol. “But who exactly is your dad and why is everyone so afraid of him?”

  “Maybe better you don’t know.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I need to know who I’m dealing with, so tell me.”

  “I’m Erin Coyle, Paddy Coyle’s daughter.”

  “Fuck! I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” groaned Carol.

  “Look, I understand if you don’t want to get involved, but thanks anyway. At the very least you’ve helped me get my head a bit clearer.”

  “Just meet me at St. Enoch’s at, say, 10am, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “10am tomorrow, are you sure?”

  “Yes I’m sure, see you tomorrow. And chin up, things will work out so don’t worry.”

  Oh, everything would work out okay, but maybe not as they hoped. The girls went their separate ways; one jumped into her brand new Mini and drove to a luxury home and the other climbed on board a number 44 bus to pick up her daughter from the childminder.

  End of …

  “I’m telling you it’s too dangerous,” Pete snapped at the old priest. “You’ve no idea how close to the wind we’ve sailed over the past year. Anyway, I’ve disposed of the last two couriers so there’s no going back now.”

  “Disposed of?” queried his partner. “As in, got rid of?”

  “Well, you don’t think for a minute that I was going to let them wander round Europe with a P45 and a redundancy cheque, did you? Of course I disposed of them.”

  “But I told you, I’ve taken a contract. Money up front as usual and delivery at the end of the month.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to refund the money and tell them to go elsewhere.”

  “I can’t, we’re already committed. There’s no way out. You know what these people are like.”

  “It’s over, Frank. No more. Surely you’ve got enough to retire to a nice little island and spend the rest of your days in the sun?”

  “Retire? Do you really think these guys will let me retire, priest or no priest?”

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you got involved in human trafficking.”

  “Human trafficking? What’re you talking about, man? As far as anyone can prove I arranged adoptions for childless couples. I had no part in any trafficking, human or otherwise, and there’s not a shred of evidence to link me to anything of the sort.”

  “Then it’s all the more reason to get out now, ya old goat. The Russians and the rest of the Eastern Europeans have killed the goose. There are no more golden eggs, and I for sure have no intention of spending as much as one night in a Spanish jail. So if you want one more trip, you are on your own.”

  “You forget how much I know, Pete, and also who I know.”

  “Are you threatening me, you stupid old fucker? I would hate to think so, and do you really think if I’m going down, you’re not coming with me? Fuck off!”

  “Of course I’m not threatening you,” the priest backtracked quickly. “Just one more trip, and that’s the end.”

  “It can’t be done. I knew you’d try this, so to make sure it was finished, all the infrastructure has been shut down. It can’t be done. There is no support documentation so no, no last trip.”

  “Pete, you don’t know what you’ve done, I’m a dead man walking.”

  “Hmm, you were anyway,” Pete muttered to himself. “Don’t be so bloody dramatic, you must have known things were changing, the money for a start.”

  “I have to fulfil this contract one way or another.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Canon O’Farrell, but you’re on your own with this one. I’m out.”

  The Journey

  Erin had hardly slept a wink, the same words going round and round in her head. Pregnant. Her pregnant! What the hell was she going to do? Realistically, the best thing she could do for everyone’s sake would be to have a termination. But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. If she went ahead and had the baby − even that sounded weird to her, ‘the baby’ − what life would either of them have? Certainly nothing like the one she had at present. Would Bobby stand by her? Truthfully, she didn’t think she had a cat in hell’s chance. But, he was the father and had a right to know.

  What about the shop assistant, Carol? She was certainly very kind and appeared to want to help, but Erin didn’t really hold out much hope that she’d turn up. Although she did seem very positive and capable, the sort you’d want on your team if you were in any kind of trouble. Whether she’d have second thoughts about getting mixed up with the Coyles remained to be seen. There was no question Erin would definitely be at St. Enoch at 10 am, but, if
as she suspected, Carol was a no-show, she would go straight to the travel agents and book a trip. What would she tell her mum and dad? Where could she say she was off to without making them suspicious?

  When she came down for breakfast, both Bridget and Paddy thought she looked even more washed out, probably due to the lack of sleep. The smell of her father’s full Scottish breakfast hit the gag reflex and she had to dash from the table. The sounds of her vomiting could be clearly heard by both.

  “You need to get that lassie back to the doctors and pronto,” Paddy barked at his wife. She said nothing, but had he been more observant, Paddy would have noticed the pained look on Bridget’s face. She was damned sure she knew exactly what was up with his precious daughter, and God help them all when it came home to roost.

  “Sorry folks,” the young girl apologised. “Hope I didn’t put you off your breakfast.” She pinched a sausage off her dad’s plate just as she always did.

  At nine fifty-five Erin parked her car and set off to meet her new friend.

  “Hi, how are you?”

  “Oh, okay, and who is this little person?” Erin tickled the little girl under her chin.

  “This is Amy. Say hello to Erin, she’s our new friend.”

  “Hello, Erin,” mimicked the child.

  Erin smiled and patted Amy on the head.

  “If you’re really good this morning we’ll take you to the ball-pit in the centre.” This was a firm favourite with mother and daughter, mainly because it was free.

  “I’ll be good, cross my heart, I’ll be a good girl,” she replied, jumping up and down with excitement.

  As they crossed the square and entered the shopping centre, the two new friends chatted away. Well, one chatted and the other listened intently.

  The ball-pit was busy, but Amy was off and running. This would give the two of them at least half an hour undisturbed peace to chat.

  “I take it you haven’t changed your mind about a termination?” Carol asked.

  “No, I can’t do it,” Erin wrote. “I’m sorry, I know it’s the easiest way out, but not for me, this is bad enough.”