The Confession of Stella Moon

by Shelley Day

‘I’m not after your money,’ Frank manages to say.

  ‘What then, if it’s not money?’

  ‘Your Stella’s out. Of prison. I’ve seen her…’

  ‘What’s that got to do with me, may I ask? I’ve washed my hands of Stella long since. Why else d’you think I’m in here, in this hellhole? Stella Moon can rot in hell, as far as I’m concerned. She’s no granddaughter of mine.’

  ‘And the papers know she’s out. They won’t stop there. They’re onto the Baby Keating business.’

  ‘Get out! Get out, before I press the bell for…’

  ‘Come on, now,’ Frank is pleasantly surprised to find he’s got the upper hand so quickly. He didn’t imagine he’d get Ruby Willoughby rattled quite so easily. ‘Now, you know you’re not going to do that. You’re in this up to the neck, Ruby Willoughby. Just as much as I am. More so, in fact.’

  ‘I’m an old lady,’ Ruby says. ‘I live in a care home. None of that matters to me any more. If you think it does, you’re mistaken.’

  ‘Oh, but it will,’ Frank says. ‘It’ll matter to you a great deal when the papers catch up with you, when they get their hands on your Stella, when they start sniffing about the place and find out about the dead baby. Somebody’s dug up the body, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Ruby says.

  ‘The baby’s body,’ Frank explains, ‘that we buried at the Beach Hut. After Stella told everyone it was at the back of the civvy. Remember? Well, it’s gone. I’ve been up to the Beach Hut and it’s not there. I was going to get rid of it once and for all, but I can’t because it’s not there. Somebody’s already took it. All there is is a great big hole in the kitchen floor.’

  ‘What do you mean, the body’s gone? Don’t be stupid, man. It’ll have dropped to bits long since. It’s getting on ten years, man. There’ll be nothing left of it. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes that easy.’

  ‘I’m telling you it’s not there,’ Frank says. ‘I don’t mean disintegrated. I mean stolen. Someone’s dug it up and taken it away it. If you would listen, woman.’

  ‘How much is it you’re after?’

  ‘You’re not listening. The body of Baby Keating is gone. Which means trouble. For you, for me, for all us. Don’t ask me how or why or when or where it’s been taken to, because I’ve no idea. I just know it’s not there where me and Muriel put it.’

  Just then, the Sister comes back into the room carrying the tray. Did she come straight in, or has she been hovering outside the door, listening?

  ‘Ah, I knew you two’d get along like a house on fire,’ she says as she puts the tray down onto the coffee table. ‘Now, who wants what?’

  After the sister leaves, Frank produces a picture of Stella he’s torn out of the paper. He shoves it right in front of Ruby’s face and tells her the Macalinden reporter is determined to ferret out the truth about baby Keating.

  ‘Go away,’ Ruby says, calm as you like. She bats the newspaper cutting to the floor with the back of her hand. ‘I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Now or at any other time.’ Ruby picks up her walking stick and waves it at Frank. ‘Get out. Get out of here. Crawl back into the woodwork where you belong. Cockroach.’

  The walking stick catches her cup and saucer on the table, sends it flying across the room, tea splashing everywhere.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ Ruby is fumbling at the side of the fireplace for the buzzer to summon a nurse, but Frank snatches the red cord out of her grasp.

  ‘Not so fast, lady,’ Frank says, holding the cord just out of her reach. ‘We’re in deep shit, you and me both. Have you any idea where the body is? Are you still in touch with Hedy?’

  ‘Get out!’ Ruby shouts, ‘This is your last chance, Frank Fanshaw. Before I summons the Sister and tell her who you really are.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You know you’re not going to do that.’ Frank drops the emergency cord, but Ruby doesn’t make a grab for it. ‘That Sister’ll be far more interested to know who you are.’

  Frank’s about to get the upper hand here and he knows it.

  ‘Now,’ he says, picking up the china from the floor and setting it back on the little table beside Ruby. ‘Now, there’s no sense in the two of us fighting, is there? We’re on the same side, you and me. We’re both in it up to our necks and it’s only a matter of time till the whole ruddy can of worms cracks open. We’ve got to make sure that doesn’t happen, don’t we? The both of us, we’ve got to work together.’

  Ruby says nothing, just fidgets with the edge of the blanket that’s over her knees.

  ‘I’ll do the leg work, but you’ll have to supply the intelligence.’ Frank continues. ‘One: we need to find Stella. Two: we need to find Hedy. And we need to find them before that reporter finds them. Before anyone starts digging about in the dirt behind what Stella did to Muriel. Before all the nasty business about the dead baby comes out. Because make no mistake, that’s what’ll happen. The body’s gone, like I told you. It could be the police who’ve got it. They could be setting a trap. We could be too late already.’

  Ruby blows her nose and mops her upper lip with the handkerchief.

  ‘Do you see what I am saying?’ Frank says. He can’t seem to get through to her that the clock is ticking.

  ‘It can’t have been dug up,’ Ruby says. ‘Ten year ago the baby died. It’ll have rotted away by now.’

  Frank shakes his head. He can hardly bring himself to tell Ruby what he knows. The shock of what Muriel did could kill an old woman, and much as he resents Ruby and the hold she’s had on him for so long, he doesn’t want to do that. But he’ll have to come clean. Or she won’t appreciate what’s at stake. He’s got no choice.

  ‘What are you looking like that for, man?’ Ruby says.

  ‘Muriel…she…well, she…’

  ‘She what? What did Muriel do?’

  ‘I’m sorry… She decided she wanted the baby preserved… Baby Keating, he wasn’t buried in a normal way.’

  Ruby brings both hands to her face.

  ‘She what? Oh my God, what are you saying? Oh, may the Good Lord forgive her,’ Ruby crosses herself. ‘Oh Mr Fanshaw…and you let her? You let her do such a wicked thing?’

  ‘I didn’t have any say, not with Muriel. You know what she was like. The same as I didn’t have any say with you when you conned me into burying it. Like mother, like daughter.’

  Frank can hear the clatter of dishes in the corridor. They could be bringing Ruby’s lunch in any minute. But he can’t afford to back off now he’s got this far.

  ‘If you’ll just tell me the truth…’

  ‘It wasn’t our Stella who killed the baby,’ Ruby interrupts. ‘It was Muriel. There. Now you know.’

  It takes Frank a moment or two to absorb exactly what Ruby is saying.

  ‘You mean…you mean…all this time? All these years and you let your Stella go on thinking that she’d done it?’

  ‘Our Stella won’t have remembered a thing. She was too young to understand, and too far gone...’

  Frank stands up and paces the floor, shaking his head. Ruby seems shrunk into her chair, only half the size she was a few moments ago. Yet Frank can’t bring himself to feel sorry for her. Is there no end to the lies and deception – the evil – that this woman is capable of? Why in God’s name?

  ‘You let your Stella – a kid, a fourteen-year-old kid she was, when you roped her into that séance… You’re telling me you let your Stella think – no, you led her to believe – she’d killed a baby? You let her carry on thinking she’d done something she didn’t actually do? That she’d killed a baby…’ Frank exhales loudly, puts his fist to his face, bangs it against his mouth. ‘And all for what? To let Muriel off the hook?’

  Why the hell would Ruby want to let Muriel off the hook? They were always at
loggerheads about everything. Ruby remains sunk in her chair. Frank sits down again in the other chair, runs both hands through his hair, and stands up again.

  ‘I don’t know why you did that,’ he shakes his head again. ‘I really can’t see why you did that.’

  ‘I didn’t lead Stella into anything. That was Muriel. Covering her own back.’

  ‘Why haven’t you told Stella the truth long before now, then? If you’d told her the truth, you might have saved your own daughter’s life. If Stella had known the truth, your Muriel might still be alive.’

  It’s clear to Frank that Ruby’s not concerned with the truth – she never has been. She’s only ever wanted to paper over the cracks, get herself off the hook and make everything appear to be normal. Ruby couldn’t give a toss about the truth, she can’t face it, hasn’t got the foggiest about the havoc she’s wreaked in other people’s lives. She’s sitting there sniveling into her hanky, but Frank’ll be buggered if he feels sorry for her.

  ‘She wasn’t my Muriel,’ Ruby snivels. ‘Muriel wasn’t my daughter.’

  What is she saying now? Frank snorts. How many more lies has she got stored up?

  ‘Muriel wasn’t mine.’ Ruby is saying. ‘She was Worthy’s. She wasn’t anything to do with me. She did her level best from day one to come between me and Worthy. Believe me, Frank Fanshaw, you don’t know the half of it.’

  Frank’s no longer sure he wants to know the half of it. He’s tired of this woman and all her grim secrets. But he has a mission to accomplish. His own self-preservation will keep him there until it’s clear what next step he has to take.

  ‘This beggars belief, the lot of it. I must say, you and Muriel acted like mother and daughter, always at each other’s throats.’

  The clattering of crockery outside in the corridor is getting louder. Time’s short.

  ‘And how come you know about your Muriel and Baby Keating? How do you know Muriel did that? She never let on a word of it to me, and she told me some queer things. Muriel always maintained it was Stella, trying to shut the baby up to stop the mother going mad with all the screaming. Muriel always said it was Stella that plied the baby with stuff out of your cupboard, stuff you’d made up in actual fact, for the express purpose of keeping him quiet. You’re as guilty as the rest of them, Ruby Willoughby, more than.’

  ‘Tch,’ Ruby says, ‘I knew Muriel. I knew what she was capable of. Worthy wouldn’t have her left alone with Stella. And for good reason. Why d’you think I went through that court case to keep Stella away from her mother? On his deathbed, he made me swear I’d protect Stella. But I never imagined Baby Keating, not until…until it was too late. Then I put two and two together.’ Ruby put her hanky to her face.

  Her voice has gone thin. But Frank’s not going to give her no sympathy. Let her weep. She’ll rot in hell for what she’s done. She could have told the truth to Stella, but no, she chose to lie, she chose to shield Muriel, even though she hated her. And at the end of the day, Ruby Willoughby chose to shield herself. It’s all far worse than Frank had imagined. It’s sick.

  ‘It’s Stella I feel sorry for,’ Frank says. ‘No wonder she’s like she is. No wonder she did what she did. You and Muriel, the pair of you, you never gave the kid a chance.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say as I noticed you being slow to cash in, Frank Fanshaw.’ The old woman’s claws are full out now. ‘Don’t think I didn’t know what was going on the minute my back was turned. Oh, no, I saw it. I saw it all.’

  ‘There was nothing that ever occurred without full consent. I can put my hand on my heart and say that. May God strike me dead.’

  Ruby is scathing. ‘Don’t talk rot! What a load of phooey. A child can’t consent. How can a child consent? Don’t talk ridiculous.’

  ‘Stella wasn’t a child, as you put it. Or if she was, she knew what she was doing. And she accepted the cash.’

  ‘Sex. Barely a teenager. With a man of forty-five.’ Ruby’s voice is shaking with anger. ‘You think that’s alright, do you? Well, I don’t. You didn’t think about Stella, did you? You didn’t stop for a single minute and think about her, what you were doing, the effect it might have on her. Oh, no. All Frank Fanshaw thought about was himself, being led around by what’s down his trousers, and sod the consequences for everybody else. Don’t you dare judge me, Frank Fanshaw. You’re in no position to judge anybody.’ Ruby sits back in her chair, puts her hand to her chest, takes deep breaths.

  ‘You’ve no idea, have you, of the harm it causes?’ Ruby says when she gets her breath back. ‘It’s was Muriel’s undoing, way back. Yes, that was the start of it.’ Ruby’s mopping at her eyes with the hanky again. ‘Oh, yes. Things’d be very different if it was the male sex who got in the family way.’

  ‘Stella was never in danger of being in the family way.’

  ‘No, but Muriel was. Fourteen years old she was, until Worthy got it took away.’

  ‘Good God, woman. What are you saying?’

  ‘Worthy – he had no other option. Oh, God forgive him! He regretted it to the end. But he did it for me, he did it to bring me some peace of mind. He did it for Muriel, so she could have a future. Oh, Mr Fanshaw, have some pity on an old woman, show some mercy.’

  ‘The Lord in heaven, what am I hearing? Worthy Willoughby did an abortion on his own daughter. Fourteen years old. And you let him do it, for your own convenience.’

  ‘I had no say, I tell you. Muriel was not my daughter. She was Worthy’s. She wouldn’t listen to anyone but her precious father.’

  ‘Who was the father of her baby, then?’

  ‘Muriel was nothing but a liar, an evil little twister. I’m glad Stella killed her. I hope she rots in hell.’

  ‘Who got her pregnant?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. And I don’t think she had either. You know better than most people what Muriel was like, Mr Fanshaw. Well, I can tell you she was like that from being knee high to a grasshopper. She couldn’t keep her hands off men, couldn’t have cared less who or what they were. The father could have been any Tom, Dick or Harry,’ Ruby shrugs. ‘Muriel, she liked to stir up trouble, though, didn’t she? She claimed it was our Billy,’ Ruby snorts. ‘Our Billy. Can you imagine? Said he’d “interfered” with her. And once the story was told, there was no changing it. Story stuck. Nasty little liar. Worthy, he had no option but to step in, or the police would have got involved. It was for the best, Mr Fanshaw,’ Ruby nods her head, ‘for the best, believe me, whatever you might think from this distance.’

  ‘How d’you know Muriel was lying? Did you ever even ask her brother what had happened?’

  ‘I told you, Billy was not Muriel’s brother. He was my son, my only son. I didn’t need to ask him. Billy wasn’t like that. I knew for a fact he would never do such a thing, never on God’s earth would he have done a thing like that. It was the shock of it all that killed him. It was Muriel that sent him to an early grave,’ Ruby says. ‘He took his own life when was only twenty-seven. The only thing I ever loved, and Muriel destroyed him with her lies. And Worthy, well, things could never be the same after that, could they?’

  Frank sighs. He’d known Muriel had a troubled past, but had no idea of the extent of it.

  ‘You never loved Muriel. You never cared enough about her to believe her. What if she was telling the truth?’

  ‘Muriel deserved to be destroyed like a rabid dog deserves to be destroyed, when it’s nothing but a danger to itself and everybody and everything it comes in contact with. After what she did to Billy, I hated her – I tell you, I hated her. She took him away from me, and she tried her damnedest to take Worthy. Don’t you go judging me, Frank Fanshaw, I tell you, you don’t know the half of it.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Frank rests his head in his hands and keeps it there. He’d had no idea.

  Ruby blows her nose hard into her handkerchief. She sounds satisfied. Frank’s opened a h
ornets’ nest, and his own problems are nowhere near solved.

  One of the care staff nudges the door open with her shoulder and comes in carrying a tray with hot lunch for Ruby. She looks askance at Frank, but makes no comment. Frank really should have gone before now. His presence will almost certainly be remarked upon, but he’s past caring. His position here has served its purpose and very soon he’ll be going and never coming back. Ruby waves her arm at the food, tells the girl to take it away, she’s not hungry. The girl carries it back out of the room, comes back in with a sandwich in a plastic wrapper and puts it on Ruby’s lap. She clears the uneaten breakfast things off the little table. She smiles at Frank as she leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Going back through the gates of the Warrender Park Nursing Home that day, Frank had more than achieved his mission. And it pleased him to know he was going through those gates for the very last time. Next stop, find Stella. If she’s not at the boarding house, chances are she’ll be at the Beach Hut. He’ll check both. It was obvious to both Frank and Ruby that Stella did remember more than she’d ever let on. The crucial thing was to make sure she didn’t spill the beans. Then after Frank had sorted Stella out, it would be Hedy Keating’s turn.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The snow came early that year. Freakishly, in the night, in early November. Fat white flakes from a thick leaden sky, falling softly, all along the coast, whiting out everything from Berwick to Tynemouth. The dunes disappeared and not a blade of marram was left protruding. The corrugated roofs of the beach huts bowed under the weight of snow, the sand was white with it, the sea stilled.

  Stella, sleepless and alone at the Beach Hut, had lain awake listening to the strange encroaching silence, trying to realise this was likely to be her last night of freedom for a very long time, the last chance she’d have to do the writing for Marcia. The big snowfall in the night had put paid to her plans to head straight back to Newcastle and, for the time being anyway, she was strangely grateful. The snow also meant it was unlikely that either Frank Fanshaw or the Macalinden bloke would show up on her doorstep. She could make the most of the short time she had left, try to calm down a bit and write something to explain herself to Marcia. It wouldn’t be the sort of thing Marcia was hoping for, but at least it would go some way to explaining. And saying sorry.