by L.H. Cosway
Was Vee Noah’s mother? It didn’t make sense. He called her his sister all this time. Plus, there was the fact that Vee would’ve only been fifteen when Noah was born. That was way too young to have a baby, but it wasn’t impossible. Noah kept telling me I didn’t know the full story. Was this what he was referring to? And if Vee really was his mam, then who on earth was his father? My mind wandered again to the phone calls with Enda Riordan. It could be him. The thought made my stomach turn, because he would’ve been in his thirties when Vee was a teenager.
What on earth was wrong with these people?
My throat went dry, and I couldn’t get rid of the sick, bewildered feeling in my stomach. I heard them leave and waited a few moments before I climbed out of the dumbwaiter. I hurried into the kitchen and through to the living room. All the guests had gathered in the large room as Noah stood by the mantelpiece holding a glass. He clinked it with a fork to garner everybody’s attention, and a hush fell.
My gaze landed on Vee, who stood in the corner with a distressed, fearful look in her eyes. I was about to go to her when Noah started to speak.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight,” he began. “This gathering marks the 10th anniversary of my father, Victor Dylan’s, passing. I’d also like to especially thank his close friends, Enda Riordan, Matt O’Hare, Lydia McBride and John and Theresa Hawkins, for their help in organising this remembrance. The five of you meant a great deal to Victor. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say he wouldn’t have been the man he was without you. Many of you who live in town remember Victor fondly as a man who was never short of laughter and good cheer. He was the life and soul of the party, and we all know he liked to throw his fair share of those.”
There was a pause followed by gentle, nostalgic laughter. My attention drifted to a small commotion in the middle of the room. Sylvia was trying to wheel her way through the guests, her eyes furious but also panicked. Noah noticed her, too, a vicious smile gracing his lips as he continued, “Victor was my father, but the man you knew wasn’t the same man I knew. No wait, that’s not entirely true. His close friends knew Victor well. They knew exactly what kind of person he was, and now I’d like to share with the rest of you what kind of person he was, too. They say that the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. Well, the same could be said for Victor’s friends, though I’m not too sure about the “good” part.” Silence pervaded the room as his gaze swept over the crowd. Enda, Lydia, Matt and Hawkins all looked varying degrees of panicked or ill. Theresa’s blue eyes narrowed to slits as she stared bloody murder at him. Everyone else’s attention was on Noah, intrigue in the air as they waited for what he had to say.
“I’d like to tell you a story,” he went on. “A story about a mother, a father, a son and a death.”
My skin grew clammy, my heart beating way too fast, like I was on the verge of a panic attack. Oh, no, I recognised this feeling. The lights overhead started to flicker on and off, intermittently plunging the room into darkness, but it seemed I was the only one to notice. Everyone else was focused on Noah, but I could no longer hear him speak. My ears felt like I was underwater as I leaned back and grabbed hold of the wall to steady myself.
It wasn’t much use, because I collapsed anyway, and my vision was plunged into darkness …
I came awake in a room both familiar and not. It was the living room at Ard na Mara, the same one I’d just been standing in while Noah made his speech. But this was a time gone by. A young Sylvia sat on an armchair, while an even younger Vee sat on the sofa, crying her eyes out. Victor paced by the fireplace. None of them appeared to be able to see me.
“I can’t believe you let this happen. You’ll have to get rid of it,” Sylvia spat, her words full of vitriol as she cast her eyes on Vee. It was shocking to see her like this, not only because she was young and healthy, but because she seemed so hateful. Vee had been telling the truth about her mother after all.
“It’s too late to get rid of it,” Victor said coldly. “She’ll have the baby. We’ll tell everyone she’s attending a boarding school abroad for a few months until it’s born. Then we’ll raise it as our own.”
Vee’s teary eyes looked up. “You’re going to send me away?”
Victor shook his head. “No, you’ll stay here. You’ll simply be forbidden to leave the house.”
“I can’t stay indoors for three whole months,” she protested.
Sylvia stood, fuming down at her. “You should’ve thought about that while you were keeping this baby a secret from us. I knew there was something odd about all those baggy clothes you were wearing.”
“Jesus Christ,” Vee wailed. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?”
“I’m hearing myself just fine, young lady.”
“Have you stopped to think who exactly the father is?” Vee went on, her eyes desperate.
Sylvia grew a little pale. “That’s not important. What’s important is the child.”
Vee let out a loud, manic laugh as she stood, too, facing off with Sylvia. “If you two plan on raising this baby as your own, you’ll only be half lying.”
Sylvia paled further, her face dropping as she looked to her husband. She didn’t say anything. She just turned back to Vee and smacked her right across the face. “You’re a vicious little liar.”
Vee clutched her cheek, staring at her mother in shock. “I’m not lying. You’re just wilfully blind.”
“You’d do anything to ruin this family,” Sylvia said. “That’s what this pregnancy is all about. You were trying to bring shame on us. Well, I won’t let you do any more damage.”
With that, she stormed out of the room, leaving Vee alone with her father. A brick sank in my gut. He stared at her from where he stood by the fireplace, his eyes devoid of warmth or any hint of a soul.
He moved toward her silently, and Vee seemed to curl in on herself, clearly both sickened and frightened to even be in the same room as him. Victor effortlessly grabbed a hold of her neck and pushed her back down onto the sofa. He hovered over her threateningly, and I shook in fear. He was going to strangle her.
When he spoke, his voice was low and sinister, “If you ever try to tell your mother the truth again, I’ll kill you myself.”
Vee lifted her head, eyeing him with disgust. “Rapist,” she spat at him.
A vein bulged in his neck as her saliva dripped down his face, and he threw her to the floor. Tears filled my eyes as I watched, unable to intervene.
The scene shifted. The next time I came to, I was in the attic. I hated this place. Vee was heavily pregnant and so young; her belly was huge under her nightgown as she screamed and cried and pounded on the door. “Let me out of here! Let me out! I’m going to kill myself and this baby if you don’t let me out, Goddammit! You’ve kept me locked in here for long enough!”
“Settle down,” came Sylvia’s placid voice from the other side. “This is for your own good.”
Vee wailed and pressed her head to the door, sobs wracking her body. Then, she quieted, looking down at the floor where there was a puddle of liquid at her feet. “Oh my God,” she said, hand going to her mouth. “It’s happening.”
“What’s wrong now?” Sylvia’s muffled voice asked.
It took Vee a long moment to answer, then finally, she said, “My water broke.”
Just like that, the door flew open. Sylvia entered, guiding Vee over to the bed and instructing her to lie down. She left and returned with towels and a basin of water.
She was going to make her give birth here in this dank, dirty place?
Suddenly, I realised who had made those nail marks on the wall. It wasn’t Noah’s great-grandmother. It was Vee. Vee was Noah’s mother, and she’d birthed him right here in this room. He was a child of incest, and the family had kept it a secret all these years.
Oh no, here came the darkness again.
Now I was downstairs in the foyer. A little boy ran into the house holding a stick and proc
eeded to rattle it along the banister. I knew it was Noah just by looking at him. He was a beautiful child. You’d never guess the evil act he’d been born from.
“What’s all this racket you little brat?” a voice boomed, and Victor came barrelling down the stairs. He snatched the stick from Noah’s hand, snapped it in half and yanked him roughly by the arm. I followed as he marched him down the hall to the tiny bedroom where I used to sleep, flinging him inside.
“You stay in here and be quiet. I don’t want to hear another sound,” Victor seethed, giving Noah a violent shove onto the floor before slamming the door shut. Forlorn, Noah crawled up onto the narrow bed, wrapped his arms around his knees and cried. It broke my heart to see him. I wished to reach out and pull him into a hug, whisk him away from this horrible place.
A few moments later, the door opened, and Vee crept in. Noah’s eyes rose to hers as she lifted her finger to her mouth, indicating for him to be silent. She looked about twenty now, pale and willowy, haunted but not yet as haunted as the woman I knew.
She sat on the bed next to Noah and pulled him into her arms, hugging him tight. “I’m sorry he’s so mean,” she whispered into his hair. “I won’t let him get to you again.”
“He scares me,” Noah whispered back, and I saw the moment Vee’s heart broke just like mine had. She loved him, despite how he came to be.
Darkness descended, and then I was in the kitchen. Noah was still young. He sat at the table doing homework when Sylvia walked in.
“What did I tell you?” she fumed, pulling the pencil from his hand. She went and grabbed a wooden spoon, then brought it down hard on his knuckles. He cried out in pain, clutching his hand to his chest as Sylvia eyed him coldly.
“You’re already enough of a bad omen,” she seethed. “We write with our right hand, not with our left.”
Whimpering and clearly still in pain, Noah shakily picked up the pencil with his right hand and made a concerted effort to continue writing even though it was unnatural to him.
I was transported again, this time to a scene of merriment and laughter. The living room was full of guests, and I recognised Matt, Lydia, Principal Hawkins, Theresa and Enda, as well as Victor and Sylvia who sat holding court. There was the sound of the front door opening, and Victor stormed out into the hallway. I watched through the gap in the door as he accosted a teenaged Noah.
“What time do you call this?” Victor demanded.
“It’s only eleven,” Noah said, eyes downcast. It was surreal to see him so subservient.
“Eleven is too late for you to be only getting home,” Victor went on, and I got the sense that Noah stayed out late only to avoid him. I’d done the same thing time and again to avoid Vee, staying at Aoife’s for as long as I could.
“I’m sorry,” Noah muttered.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Victor seethed, and I could almost smell the alcohol on his breath. He started pulling his belt from his trousers as he tore Noah’s shirt from his back and brought the leather down on him with a harsh slap. I winced.
Everyone in the living room could hear what was happening out in the hallway, but none of them tried to help.
“Sounds like somebody’s in trouble,” Enda laughed cruelly.
“Young Noah’s been a bold, bold boy,” Matt added with a drunken chuckle.
“Now, now, don’t be so crass,” Lydia chided playfully.
I couldn’t believe how they were acting. It made me feel like they’d witnessed Victor’s treatment of his son many times before, but they were all so black-hearted they didn’t even care. They found it amusing, and that was the most disturbing part. My attention returned to the hallway, where Victor seemed to have reached his limit in the number of times he could lash his son.
“Now go to bed,” he ordered.
Noah hobbled down the hall to his bedroom as Victor returned to his guests.
“Sorry about that,” he said, picking up his glass and knocking back a large gulp
“That boy of yours causing you bother?” Theresa asked, coming to perch tipsily on the edge of the armchair Victor sat in.
Victor chuckled, but there was no real joy behind it, only cruelty. “A boy like mine needs a firm hand.”
“He’s growing up to be quite the looker,” Theresa went on, and my stomach turned because I sensed where this was heading.
Victor eyed her speculatively. “You think so?”
“Oh, yes, if I was twenty years younger, the things I’d do to him,” she said, almost wistful. I wanted to slap her right across the face.
“Why would you need to be younger? He’s old enough to finally learn the ways of a woman.”
Theresa tittered. “Oh, don’t be silly. I couldn’t.” But I saw the gleam of want in her eyes. The seed had been planted.
I blinked, and I was in another room, at another time. It was the study Vee spent most of her evenings in, a study that used to be Victor’s. He sat at the desk, talking on the phone, spittle flying from his mouth as he roared at the person on the other end, “There has to be something you can do. I’m finished. Bankrupt. I’ll never recover.” He slammed the phone down before rising and punching his fist into the wall. He stalked from the study and downstairs to Noah’s bedroom. He pushed open the door. Noah was in bed asleep, but his father’s abrupt entrance woke him up. He rubbed at his bleary eyes as Victor pulled off his belt, ready to take his anger out on his son yet again.
The scene faded, and now I was in the kitchen. Vee was much older, maybe thirty, as she stood by the cupboard pouring whiskey into a glass. She poured it until the glass was full, then knocked back every last drop. She swayed a little as she filled it a second time, lifting the glass to her mouth when Sylvia led Victor into the room.
“You see? What did I tell you? She’s been at this for weeks now. Drinking herself into a stupor. It can’t continue.”
Vee levelled her mother with a dirty look. “I’m a grown woman, I’ll do what I like.”
“Not so long as you’re under this roof,” Sylvia countered.
“I’ll move out then,” Vee said.
Victor gave a disdainful laugh. “Oh, you will? And where will you go? You have no money, no job. You’re lucky we let you stay here what with all the trouble you bring.”
“The trouble I bring?” Vee shouted before she launched her glass at Victor’s head. He moved out of the way, but he wasn’t quick enough. It hit his chest then smashed down onto the floor. “You’re the one who raped your own daughter when she was just a child, resulting in the birth of a son whose life you make even more miserable than mine.”
The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment before a voice asked, “Is that true?” They all turned to find Noah standing in the doorway.
“Get out,” Victor spat. “Your sister is drunk and spouting lies.”
“Is it true?” Noah repeated, looking to Vee now. She nodded sadly, like she’d been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. A storm raged behind Noah’s eyes as he turned his attention to his father. “I knew you were twisted, but I didn’t think you were this sick. I’m going to tell everyone exactly what you are.”
“You won’t tell a soul,” Victor threatened, advancing on Noah, but Noah was too fast. He ran for the back door and disappeared outside. Victor chased after him and so did I. It was dark out as Noah traversed the cliff and ran down onto the beach. He ran so far, he ended up in the water. Victor caught up with him, and there was a struggle. Victor gripped Noah by the collar of his shirt with one hand and punched him in the head with the other. Tears streamed down my face because I knew what I was witnessing. This was the attack Noah spoke of, the one that resulted in Victor’s heart attack.
I wished I could change history and stop all this from happening, but I couldn’t.
Victor pushed Noah down into the water while Noah struggled.
“Let go of me! Please, I’ll drown!” Noah begged, and a sense of déjà vu hit me. I’d heard this plea before while sitting o
n the beach. It seemed like echoes of the past were constantly trying to break through to me.
“You deserve to drown. You’re a curse on this household.” Victor said, using all his strength to push Noah’s head under the water. I couldn’t believe he was going to kill his own son to keep his horrific secret. But Noah began fighting back harder than before, and he broke free of Victor’s hold. He punched him and shoved him so hard Victor fell onto his back, clutching his chest. His eyes were wild and desperate as Noah stood over him, realisation suddenly dawning that Victor was having a heart attack.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said in panic. He went to him, trying to pull him up. “Help!” Noah yelled. “Somebody help!” But it was too late. Victor was gone. Sylvia and Vee came running down onto the beach.
“What’s happened?” Sylvia questioned, her eyes anxiously going to her husband who lay still in the water. She ran to him, trying to feel for a pulse. “You killed him,” she screamed accusingly. “You killed him!”
“I didn’t,” Noah protested. “It was an accident.”
Vee stood with her arms around herself, staring at her father’s limp form as though frozen in shock. Somebody was crying big, heavy sobs, and it took me a moment to realise it was me. This was the most tragic scene I’d ever witnessed.
In the next moment I was back in Ard na Mara. Sylvia stood in the hallway, whispering to Principal Hawkins. “I need to get rid of him,” she said desperately. “He’ll tell everyone the truth about Victor and about Veronica being his real mother. He’ll tell them how I knew all along. My reputation will be ruined.”
“We won’t let him. I’ll be a witness at the trial. I’ll tell the court I was here that night and saw Noah attack Victor. He’ll be sent away for a long time.”
“You’d do that for me?” Sylvia said, taken aback.
“Of course,” Hawkins replied. “I’d do anything for you.”
“But what about Veronica? She was there. She could deny your claim.”
Hawkins rubbed his chin. “I know a doctor who’ll write a prescription if we pay him a little extra. We can keep Veronica drugged up and out of it until the trial is over. You said yourself she’s been so depressed she barely leaves her room. With enough pills and booze, it’ll be easy enough to keep her there.”