If You Only Knew

by Cynthia Clark

  Miles comes downstairs and pours himself coffee and gulps it down. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asks. “I can meet you after I drop the children at school.” I shake my head.

  “Liz.” He stops, looks down into his mug, stirring his coffee so furiously that some spills over the side, onto the pristine countertop. He looks back at me. “I’m so angry at you. For not telling me, for what this might mean to our family.”

  Despair engulfs me. I knew he would leave me, walk away from our marriage, probably take the children. It won’t be difficult, especially if I’m in jail. But I didn’t think he would be so cruel as to tell me now, just before I walk into a police station to confess what happened so many years ago.

  Clenching my hands into tight fists I look up at him. Make it quick, I think.

  “I’ve been thinking about our marriage. What all this means for our future. Whether there even is a future for us.”

  Again he pauses and I want to scream. To beg him to continue, not to keep me waiting. For this to be over.

  “It’s too hard for me. I don’t feel like I know who you are any more. All my images of you have been destroyed.”

  There is sadness in his eyes as he looks at me. Tears spring to mine as I wait for him to continue.

  “But I love you. That’s the bottom line. I always have. And I want to make our life together work. We have a family and that’s the most important thing to me. If you go to jail we will all be waiting for you.”

  My bottom lip trembles uncontrollably. Tears spill out of my eyes before I can stop them. “Thank you,” I manage to say.

  Miles puts his arms around me and holds me close. I want to remain in this embrace forever, allow him to make me feel safe. But all too soon the moment is over. “I have to go. Call me as soon as you leave the police station,” he says. “We have to go,” he calls to the children, who are in the living room watching television.

  “Too tight,” Julian says, wriggling out of my embrace as I hold him for what I fear might be the last time. Letting him go, I kiss his forehead. “I love you so much,” I whisper.

  Turning to Leah, I take her small hands in mine and look into her big eyes. She smiles and touches her forehead to mine. Taking her in my arms, I bury my face in her soft hair, not wanting her to see me crying. “I love you, baby girl,” I say. “Have a good day at school.”

  Alone in the kitchen, I put the dirty bowls and cups in the dishwasher. Taking one last look around, I square my shoulders, pick up my bag, and walk away. It’s time to face the truth.

  I walk to the tube station lost in thought. With no job there was no reason to drive into the city. The Tube is crowded but even surrounded by people I feel wholly alone. It’s a short ride and before I know it I’m sitting in a cafeteria next to the police station, warming my freezing hands around a steaming cup of coffee, waiting for Luigi. Every sound startles me, every movement makes me whip my head round.

  Luigi walks in when I’m on my third cup of coffee. My hands are shaking as I lift the cup to my lips to take the last few sips. I tell myself it’s the caffeine and not the utter fear that’s chilling my bones. He stands across from me. “Are you ready?”

  No, I want to say. I’m never going to be ready for this. It’s a mistake. I should run away as far from here as I can. But I know I cannot. This is it. I’m facing my fate. I’m doing what needs to be done for the sake of justice, and everyone who I love.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I respond, standing up and straightening my dress. I pick up my bag and follow Luigi to the door.

  Chapter 46

  The courtroom is cold, just like it always is. Shivering, I pull my jacket tighter around me and cross my arms, hoping to warm myself. It doesn’t do much and I wish I’d worn something warmer. Perhaps even remembered to get a scarf.

  Luigi and Doug, my other representative, are talking in hushed voices. Straining, I try to hear what they’re saying but quickly give up. Instead, I close myself off in my imaginary world, trying hard to think of something else.

  Detective Brown is sitting on the other side of the courtroom. I remember how his eyes had opened in shock when, eight months ago, Luigi told him who I was. He struggled to maintain a poker face, mask his surprised expression. He asked for the full details and Luigi gave him the story the way we’d agreed to tell it. He’d rubbed his temple and exhaled sharply. Then he cleared his throat. Once. Twice. He sounded almost apologetic as he led me to another room to take an official statement.

  “We will investigate,” he said when I told him about the phone call to someone called ‘Terry’ and my belief that he had been sending me the threatening letters.

  Three days later I was officially charged with manslaughter and tampering of evidence. For days I barely left the house, and then only to pick up the children from school and go to Luigi’s office, the office that had been mine, the company that I’d helped build. It was surreal to walk inside as a client, knowing that my fate rested entirely on the ability of the people who worked there.

  Worry was my constant companion. I worried about my future, what would happen to me. How all this would impact the children. Whether they would eventually understand or if they would hate me for what I’d done. I worried about Miles, how he would be able to hold his head up at work as our life was being dissected in court. I worried about my parents and how the truth was going to shatter their image of their only daughter.

  I worried about how Maya was doing. I had seen her once since I told her the truth. Coming back from the city, I had stopped the car to pick up the newspaper from the front garden. She walked out of her house and stared right at me. I lifted my arm to try a wave. But she looked down and walked away. I wondered whether she had told her mother. I had tried to talk to Ellen but she refused to see me. “Stay out of my life,” she’d said when I called her. “And don’t you dare come close to my daughter.”

  For a while I even worried about Mrs Larkin, and what she would do when she found out. But she surprised me. She called me a few days after I turned myself in. “I’d like to see you,” she’d said. Fear crept up my body as I wondered what she was going to do, whether she had the strength to hurt me. But although I knew that I should refer her to Luigi, ask him to handle the situation, I agreed to meet her at a cafeteria in the city. I should be safe surrounded by people.

  “What happened that night?” she asked me as soon as I walked in to find her already sitting in a booth.

  I started telling her the story, everything that I remembered. “I’m sorry,” I’d said. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted him to stop.”

  “Did he suffer?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. It happened really quickly. By the time I ran out to get help he was gone.”

  “I didn’t know he was doing that,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears. “He was such a good boy.” There was resignation in her voice and I thought that she had finally come to terms with who her son really was.

  Shuddering again in the chilly courtroom, I wrap my arms more tightly around my body. This is going to be a long day. I wonder how long the trial is going to take, how many days I will spend sitting on this hard chair until I find out my fate.

  The courtroom is filling up. My parents are here, having driven in last night. They’d offered to stay home with the children, but Miles wanted to be there himself. Although I miss having my husband here to support me, I wanted it to be him staying with the kids. We’d kept them out of school to make sure they didn’t hear anything we were not ready to tell them. We both know that we cannot protect them forever but at least they can hear the information from us. Or from Miles if I get sent to prison.

  Looking back I catch Mum’s eyes. Her face is stony with fear. I give her a watery smile. Further back sits Chloe, nervously twirling her long hair around her fingers, her eyes flitting this way and that. It must be hard for her being back in a court room. I catch her eyes and smile, trying t
o reassure her, even though it’s me needing comfort. But she’s been through so much. The stress of the trial weighed heavily on her and led to substantial pregnancy complications. Thankfully, she recovered and her son, Samuel, was born healthy. With time on my hands, I had taken her under my wing, helping her apply for and secure social housing, allowing her to move away from the children’s home she hated so much. We’ve remained in touch and I love hearing from her, seeing how far she’s come, working hard and juggling school and a part time job, as one of Luigi’s assistants, with caring for a new baby.

  I’m turning back around when I see her. She is standing tall, her chin up, looking so young yet so in control. She looks around the courtroom, taking it all in. She looks right at me and her green eyes glisten as they lock on mine for a few seconds. Then she breaks the connection and looks towards the other side of the room where John Larkin’s few family and friends, including his mother, are sitting behind the prosecution team. She smiles at Mrs Larkin, and the old lady shuffles on the bench, making space for her.

  She takes a step forward, her black dress swishing around her legs. She stops and brushes off an imaginary speck of lint off her black shirt, a habit she surely got from Ellen. She takes another look around and runs her fingers through her red and golden hair.

  I find myself holding my breath. I cannot stand this, cannot take her turning her back on me, taking his side. I know I don’t deserve her understanding but I still crave it.

  Every moment seems like an eternity. She smiles at Mrs Larkin as she walks towards her. My heart breaks.

  And then she looks at me again, before taking a step in my direction and sitting down next to Mum. My heart leaps with joy. For a second I forget the ordeal that awaits me. It doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Maya is on my side.

  Epilogue

  Tightening the belt around my waist, I hope that the gathering at the back of my trousers will not show under the jacket. Turning around, I glance at the heap of clothes piled on the bed, a sea of black and grey drowning out the cheery colours of the flowered quilt cover.

  Pursing my lips, I take another look in the full-length mirror, examining my reflection. My red hair is tied back in a neat bun at the nape of my neck, my makeup so subtle that it is barely visible. From the neck up I look like my old self, the person who showed up at the office every morning groomed to perfection. But my heart sinks as I look at the rest of my body. The white blouse is billowing around my willowy frame, looking the full two sizes too big that it is. My formerly tailored trousers are bunching up at the front, the fabric draping over my legs like badly hung curtains.

  Only a couple of years ago losing a few pounds would have been cause for celebration. I would have jumped at the opportunity to go on a shopping spree, replace my wardrobe, show up at work in new outfits, perhaps have my favourite items professionally taken in.

  But my life is different now. The suits and tailored dresses that I used to live in have been relegated to the back of my wardrobe. There’s no reason to get dressed up to pick up the children from school or dash to the supermarket. Instead my current uniform has become yoga pants and baggy shirts. No wonder I had not realised just how much weight I’d lost.

  My phone beeps and I pick it up, squinting around the diagonal crack on the screen to read the text message from the familiar number:

  On the way

  it says. A smile creeps to my face and I take a deep breath as I put on my jacket. It hangs loosely around my chest and I quickly pull a scarf and tie it around my neck in an attempt to hide the bad fit before heading off without another glance at the mirror.

  On my way to the kitchen I pause for a moment outside the bedroom Julian and Leah now share, peeking inside at the toys still scattered on the floor, the colourful clothes spilling from the drawers. I’ll deal with them later, I think as I close the door behind me.

  Placing my bag on the small table, I busy myself clearing the kitchen, putting away bowls and mugs, wiping the countertop. There’s a red circular stain from the strawberry jam crumpet that Leah was eating and I scrub at it absentmindedly before straightening the fruit-shaped magnets holding the children’s paintings on the fridge.

  My thoughts wander to the phone call of two days ago. Maya had sounded hysterical. “She’s gone,” she’d told me, her voice breaking into sobs. “Who?” I’d asked, even though I suspected the answer. For weeks her health had been deteriorating and I knew it wouldn’t be long before she lost her battle to stay alive. But Nora Larkin had surprised us all. She wouldn’t give up, and even the doctors were baffled every time she recovered. It looked like she was determined to make up for lost years and spend as much time as possible with her granddaughter.

  It was not the first time Nora Larkin had surprised me. I was in Luigi’s office just after the verdict came in. My heart was still pounding in my chest, my breathing coming in rapid gasps. Although the jury had decided I had used reasonable force to defend myself, I’d been found guilty of tampering with evidence and hindering a criminal investigation. I was going to have to pay a price for what I’d done all those years before. Luigi excused himself to take a phone call. “It’s going to be ok,” Miles had said, putting his arm around my shoulder.

  Luigi’s eyebrows were knitted in a frown when he walked back into the room. “Liz,” he called from the doorway, nodding at me to join him. I followed him to an empty office and watched as he closed the door. “What happened?” I asked, alarm increasing by the second.

  “How well do you know Nora Larkin?” he’d asked.

  “I don’t.”

  “She wants to give a character reference on your behalf,” he said.

  The gasp escaped before I could control it. “What did she say?” I asked after a moment.

  “Not much.” Luigi gave an exaggerated shrug. “Just that she wanted to appeal to the judge to be lenient.”

  “Uhm… I don’t understand,” I start. “I… I… killed her son. Why would she do that?”

  Luigi shook his head.

  “Could she be setting me up? Use this as an opportunity to make a statement,” I ask, my mind whirring so fast that the pain in my head is intensifying.

  “That’s a possibility. We need to find out. Frankly though, you need all the help you can get.”

  Luigi’s words made me wince, the reality of my situation reverberating in my head. “Should I speak to her?”

  For a few moments Luigi didn’t respond. He stared right at me, nodding his head in minuscule forward and backwards movements. He exhaled deeply. “No. We cannot appear to be trying to influence her. You need to stay out of it. Don’t contact her.”

  “But…” I start.

  “Do you hear me? Don’t contact her. I will deal with this.”

  Later that week we were sitting in the courtroom waiting for the judge to come in and hand out his sentence. After two long conversations with Mrs Larkin, Luigi had recommended letting her speak. Fear at what she would say mingled with curiosity. Why would she want to do this for me?

  Her hands trembled around a crumpled piece of paper as she stood up. Her mouth opened but no words came out. She cleared her throat, once, twice. “My son, John, was wonderful. Kind, helpful, friendly…” As her voice broke into a sob I turned towards Luigi, panic bubbling in my chest. This was going to do more harm than good.

  “At least that’s what I thought. I never knew what he was doing to these girls, what he did to Mrs Perkins. Had I known I would have stopped him. But I didn’t realise that he was hiding a horrid secret. Mrs Perkins robbed me of my son. But her action stopped him from hurting others. She shouldn’t be punished too harshly. Thank you.”

  There was a gasp in the courtroom as she sat back down. “Order,” the judge snapped. Then he turned towards me. Luigi stood up and I followed.

  “Mrs Perkins, I have reviewed your case carefully. Although I am convinced that fear drove your decision to flee, the way you meticulously cleaned the crime scene to avoid being
caught shows presence of mind. You knowingly took action to avoid being caught. It also astounds me that despite suspecting that Mr Larkin had an accomplice, you never came forward in a bid to protect others from being attacked. And finally, you lied to the police who were searching for you after Maya McBride’s DNA surfaced.

  However, I need to balance your actions with the contribution you have given to society, your tireless work with victims of abuse. You have tried hard to redeem yourself. With this in mind I sentence you to two years in prison, suspended to five years and two hundred hours of community service.”

  The sound of the gavel hitting the bench made me jump. For a second I’d thought I was dreaming. Could I have possibly avoided jail? Looking behind me I caught Miles’ eyes. He was smiling. “You’re coming home,” he said, leaning over to hug me.

  Breaking away from Miles’ embrace, I looked around me. I scanned the room, looking for her. But she was nowhere to be seen.

  Hours later I parked the car in front of the small house with peeling yellow paint. Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car, rushing to the door before I had time to change my mind. My hands trembled as I rang the bell and for a moment I wanted to run away. But then she opened the door.

  “What are you doing here?” Mrs Larkin asked.

  “Why did you do it? Why would you try to defend me? I killed your son. I kept your granddaughter away from you.”

  She took a step back. “Do you want to come in?”

  Panic started building inside me. “No, no,” I shook my head so vigorously that my hair slapped me across the face.