by Shari Low
Don’s hand squeezed hard and now Mark’s did the same, as if they were steadying me, stopping me from even trying to do what I’d thought about every day since the January afternoon he’d taken away the thing I loved most – climb over there and pull him down and then pummel him, beat him until he bled, eviscerate the bastard until he was nothing but a worthless pile of bile and waste. All those mothers I’d seen on the news and in the papers saying they’d forgiven the person who killed their child, well, that wasn’t me. I didn’t forgive him. Not even close.
Look up at me. Come on, you worthless bastard, look up at me.
He didn’t raise his head. Not once.
The judge, a woman, spoke first, bringing the court to order and then it went on, conversations, declarations, voices that all merged into one because the white noise in my head cut out everything else. I didn’t take my eyes off him for a single second.
Look at me. See me.
There was a sudden movement on either side of me, a flinch from both Don and Mark, and it jarred me enough to hear the murmur that was now rumbling in the gallery.
‘What happened?’ I whispered to Don, panic and anxiety flooding through me, fighting for space with the hatred and fury.
‘He pled guilty.’
I didn’t understand. They’d warned us that he was going to plead not guilty, take it to trial and we’d been told to prepare for the hearing to last a week, maybe two. And we’d have to sit there and listen to every detail of how it happened, relive it through the words of those that were there, see photographs of the crime scene and my girl’s broken body, imagine every moment of her pain until she was gone.
He’d pled guilty.
The judge said something about sentencing in two weeks and that was it. The court came alive as people got to their feet and I looked from side to side. Jen was crying, holding Josie, her whole body shaking with sobs. Mark shook Luke’s hand. My Don put his arms around me. ‘It’s over now, love. We can go home. It’s over,’ he said, in a voice that was so choked with emotion and relief that it chipped off another piece of my heart. It would never be over, but he was going to be punished and I’d go to sleep every night knowing the scum who stole my Dee’s life was in a cell, rotting, unable to destroy anyone else’s life.
Don released me as Josie and Jen reached my side. Jen reached out, took my hand. She was a good girl and she’d been through more than anyone should have to endure.
‘Let’s go,’ I said, mustering as much dignity as I could manage.
‘I’m proud of you, love,’ Josie said, serious for once, ‘you kept your peace.’
I didn’t tell her that the only reason I didn’t scream, shout, call him every name, lunge forward to gauge out his eyes, was because the liaison officer had warned me that if there had been any disturbances I could be barred from court for the remainder of the trial. That’s how much I hated him. I was prepared to keep my silence to see him burned.
Now I didn’t have to. No trial. It was done. I had no idea why he changed his plea but my family had been saved more pain, so it was the best outcome for us. It didn’t make me hate him any less.
I felt Don gently pull on my hand as he led the way out of the row we were sitting in, then turned and started climbing the stairs, past the other rows, to the exit door.
That’s when I saw her. Sitting in the back row, her posture stooped, the woman who was probably about the same age as me but looked a decade older. Her head was covered with a scarf, no hair visible around it, her cheeks even more hollow than before.
Our eyes met and the corners of her mouth rose in a movement that was almost as muted as the very slight nod of her head. That’s when I knew she’d done it. I didn’t know how and I probably never would, but she’d made him change his plea.
I let go of Don’s hand and climbed towards her, watching as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Her face was blank, accepting of whatever I was coming to say, a woman beaten by life and by the son who’d caused her so much heartache.
I reached out to her, this tiny woman, and enfolded her in my arms and I held her. For her. For me. Almost a year of hatred and disgust towards the demon of her I had in my head was gone, and in its place was an understanding and a respect for what she’d suffered. She was a mother, one who was helpless in the face of the person her son had become, yet, even as she was being decimated by a brutal disease, she still found the strength to come here, to face his actions, to do the right thing. She was a stronger woman than me.
‘Thank you,’ I murmured. And then, slowly, I let her go, took my husband’s hand and let him lead me, and my family, home.
Where we belonged.
Chapter 41
Jen
It had started with three words I’d spotted a couple of weeks ago, when I flicked on to the month of November in Dee’s diary. Written next to the 11th, was Mirihi Island Resort. It meant nothing to me. I’d checked her emails, but there was no booking, no other mention of it.
Of course, I had to Google it and when I saw it, even I, not one to be enticed by exotic locations or promises of luxury, fell in love. A thirty-minute journey in a seaplane from the main airport, Male, it was a tiny private island, a boutique resort of private villas nestled in the clear blue waters of the Indian Ocean.
‘Mark, what date are you leaving?’
‘Twenty-fifth,’ he’d said. ‘Why? Want shot of me sooner.’
‘Absolutely. It’s been hell,’ I’d teased him, defaulting to our standard relationship of loving sarcasm and affectionate insults. The truth, and we both knew it, was that I’d miss him horribly. In many ways, it was like having a piece of Dee still with me – that free spirit, adventurous soul who embraced life and had no desire to conform to what other people called normality.
Since he’d come home after Dee’s death, he’d gone back and forth again to Australia, heading straight offshore for a couple of months, then coming straight back. This time was different. He was heading to his home on the Gold Coast for a week, to reclaim his old life, before going offshore for a three-month contract. After that, he would return to his Australian home, and the world he’d chosen when he’d left Weirbank two decades ago.
The whole family would be a bit lost without him around and I’d miss him. I’d miss his laugh. His laid back energy. And I’d miss the fact that he still never passed up on an opportunity to make fun of me for snogging him in my desperate moment of weakness. He thought it was hilarious and I’d come to see it for what it was. A temporary aberration that I’d never live down.
He’d also be missed by the three or four women that he was seeing on a very upfront, mutually agreed ‘no strings, no ties, non-exclusive’ basis.
The thought made me shudder. That kind of set-up wouldn’t be for me, but I could see the benefits of knowing where you stood right from the start. I’d chosen to believe the mutually devoted, happy every after scenario and look where it had got me.
A plan was bubbling in my head. A holiday. A break from here. Time to heal, and think, and decide how to move on. I’d never been one for extravagance or swanky places, but the Maldives… it just felt right. Dee and I had discussed it on our last afternoon together. Maybe this was a chance to bring things full circle.
‘Would you be OK with looking after things here for a week if I went on holiday?’
I’d expected surprise and yup, right on cue, there it was. ‘You? On holiday? Voluntarily? Are you stopping to pick up your personality transplant on the way?’
I threw a stress ball and he ducked so that it bounced off his shoulder and landed on Dee’s chair. It was still exactly the same as when she left it. Same blue cardigan over the back of it, same riot of untidiness on the desk beside it.
‘OK, OK. Yes. Unless you want me to come with you and lavish you with affection and sexual favours.’
‘Tempting, but I’d rather have a bonkbuster and a pina colada,’ I grinned.
‘Your loss,’ he shrugged with complete nonchalance, befor
e going back out into the shop to meet the customer announced by the ding of the doorbell.
I’d checked the screen again. The timing worked perfectly. I handed over the keys to the house on the tenth, closing that chapter, starting a new one in the flat I’d rented by the river in Weirbank, just five minutes from Val and Don. I wasn’t ready to buy somewhere else yet. I needed time to breath, to find out where I was meant to be.
I think Luke had felt the same. He’d been gone for almost a month now, since the day after the trial, taken a sabbatical and gone down south to stay with his brothers. Before he went, we’d orbit the same people, have dinner at Val’s house on a Sunday, he’d pop into the shop to see Mark, but that was it. No rehash of the conversation about us, no mention that it had even happened. The only consolation was that I was pretty sure Val and Don were so wrapped up in the preparations for the court case to notice that the easy friendship Luke and I had always had was gone.
It was all a blur of loss to me now. Dee. Pete. Luke. My pain receptors had long shut down, leaving me numb to all new incoming assaults. I hung on to the thought that it would get better.
And when I’d arrived at reception and been shown to my water villa, one of thirty that extended out over the lagoon, things definitely got better. Inside, polished wooden floors, simple but beautiful furniture, in muted neutral shades, brightened with flashes of orange and lime.
In was outside, though, that was truly breathtaking. A private deck, angled so that the only thing in view was the sky and the ocean, and perhaps a passing boat or two. Effusive descriptions were all too common in travel magazines, but I’d never known anything or been anywhere that was closer to paradise.
I had no idea how Dee had found it, but I was so grateful that she had. I could only assume that she and Brad had planned an island getaway. The notion made my gut twist. It had been a tough secret to live with. At least I had no fear of him arriving now and compounding the anxiety by telling me more about their relationship. He knew she was gone and I had a feeling that a guy like Brad wouldn’t be one for solitary nostalgia. And I already knew more than I ever wanted to.
Standing against the wooden posts that supported the rope balcony, I couldn’t help thinking how the person I’d been a year ago would never have done this.
Dee was always the explorer in our extended, hashed-together family. Crazy, irresponsible and, yes, occasionally selfish and thoughtless, single-minded and rash; she wasn’t perfect but if I had a choice to take one person from this life to the next, it would be Dee. She fought our battles, created our excitement and added all the drama, while I’d been happy, truly happy, to take a back seat, content with what I had in life: my business, my home, my partner, my friends, my family.
A year later and the picture was completely different, like a snow globe that had been shaken in a storm.
I was bolder, stronger, more ready to step up and challenge life, rather than letting it slip right by me. And I was more battle-weary, sadder, too. Too many times to count, I’d wondered whether Luke and I could ever have found a way to be together but I knew I’d done the right thing. It was a moment in time. A desperate need for comfort. At least that’s what I told myself. If I admitted anything more, it just took me right back to the truth – I’d never forgive myself if I took the life she had planned with Luke. No matter what he said about her reticence to start a family, I knew she wanted that. How many times over the years had we lain on my sofas on a Sunday afternoon, discussing the names we’d give our kids, and sure, Pickled Onion and Rollerblade might want to change their monikers later in life, but at least they’d know they were unique. I stopped my mind from wandering. It was all moot anyway. Luke and I would never have a relationship, never mind a family or future.
I took a deep breath of sea air, then went back inside and changed out of my travel clothes and into a forties, retro style pale blue swimsuit and matching sarong from a new range I’d chosen for the shop. It had been a hit with the customers, one of several successes that had given me more confidence in my choices.
Feet bare, I walked along the narrow boardwalk that connected the villas to the land and decided to take a stroll along the beach, letting the waves roll over my feet so the hot white sands didn’t burn them.
I passed two sun loungers in a shady nook to the left, a couple holding hands across the distance between the beds. In the water, another couple wrapped in each other as they kissed.
I swept away the brief tug of sadness that I was alone, because I knew that it really didn’t matter. This was my choice, and I was going to savour every second of it. And anyway, in the distance I could see another solitary soul, a guy, sitting on the sand, facing out to see, his head obscured by a hat, his body lean and paler than the others I’d passed so far.
Obviously not a local then.
Still walking, I turned to the ocean, letting the breeze cool my face while the sun radiated heat into my bones. It had been so long, since that first morning in Barcelona, since I’d felt heat on my naked skin.
I kept walking.
Dee would love this. If she were here she’d already have made plans to go scuba diving, kayaking, to eat under the stars and to dance until dawn.
I kept walking.
She’d have introduced herself to all the staff and won them over with her enthusiasm and unadulterated delight at being there.
I kept walking.
I turned back to see that the lone figure was still sitting there, on the sands, facing out into the water, waves lapping his legs, only a few feet in front of me now.
I stopped. Stared. Recognised.
Sensing me there, he turned, his hand at his brow to shade his gaze from the sun.
I didn’t understand.
A voice. I think it was mine.
‘What are you doing here?’
Chapter 42
Val
‘In the name of God, would you look at this,’ Josie exclaimed, holding up one of the swimsuits that was hanging on the rail nearest the counter in Sun, Sea, Ski. At least, it was supposed to be a swimsuit. In reality, it was like three teabags, two at the top, one at the bottom, held together by an elaborate web of strings and ties.
‘That’s not a swimming costume, it’s a gynaecological condition waiting to happen,’ she declared.
I laughed so loudly Mark popped his head out of the office to investigate what was going on with his irresponsible temporary staff members. ‘Unless you want to discuss thrush, you’re as well staying in there, son,’ I told him, chuckling again when he pulled his head back in, like a turtle going for cover.
‘You’ll miss him, Val,’ Josie said, a mix of warmth and sympathy.
‘I will, but he’s got his own life to lead, Josie. I brought both of them up that way, to be independent and find their own paths. He’s got to live for both of them now.’ The words were melancholic, but they weren’t said with sorrow. I meant it. It was time for him to get his life back. He’d given up almost a whole year to be with us, and, although it had been tough to adjust at the start, I was beyond grateful. I’d be selfish to expect him to stay here for ever.
‘I’ve been thinking I’m going to come in here full-time to work after Mark has gone. Jen needs the help and I’ll be at a loose end. I was fine at home before, doing Don’s accounts and keeping on top of all his paperwork, but I think I need to be out and about more. Keep my mind busy. I’m best doing that in here until I decide what I want to do with myself.’
I knew Josie would understand. She kept on working because she liked to be busy and needed the interaction. I got that now. Semi-retirement had suited me once, when Dee and Jen were always popping in and out, and the lot of them, Luke and Pete too, were round for dinner a couple of times a week. After Dee died, I’d been functioning so poorly that all I could handle was a few hours every now and then, a bit of paperwork to distract my mind, a couple of shifts in the shop when they were short. Now, I was ready for more. Wilkie’s conviction had given me some kind
of closure, a will to move forward. The rage had subsided now that I knew he was being punished. Don’t get me wrong, I still had my off days when I couldn’t face lifting that duvet back, but the difference was that now when I forced myself up and into action, I didn’t want to kill everyone in my path.
Don and I were better too. What did they call it these days? Reconnected. We laughed sometimes. Went out for dinner. I’d even put a bit of weight back on and I felt better for it.
I was still heart-sore without her, missed her every day, but I knew that I couldn’t give up. She’d be so disappointed in me if I did. I’d find something else to occupy my time, something that I loved and that was just for me, but in the meantime, Jen could do with a hand here and I’d be happy to lend it.
I was worried about her. On the surface she was coping, getting ahead, and taking care of everything but the only social life she had now, as far as I could see, was coming round to our house for a bit of dinner and maybe going out for the odd drink with Mark. For a while, she was spending a lot of time with Luke, but that didn’t seem to be the case so much now. In fact, they hadn’t been round at the same time for ages. A thought struck me.
‘Josie, our Jen and Luke didn’t have a falling-out did they?’
‘Don’t know anything about that,’ she replied completely sincerely, her face a picture of innocence. That’s how I knew she was lying.
‘What are you not telling me?’ I said.
‘Nothing,’ she replied. Another innocent face. Definitely lying.
‘Josie, don’t make me prise it out of you because you know I will stalk you until you give in. We’ve already witnessed my skills in that department.’
It was strange but welcome that I could joke about that now. I hadn’t seen Mrs Wilkie since that day in court, but I thought of her often, hoped that she was finding the strength to carry on.