Tell the Truth

by Amanda Brittany

  The rain was tipping down when I raced from the building, head down as I avoided puddles on my way to the waiting taxi.

  ‘Jesus!’ I’d slammed into Connor dashing the other way. ‘Rachel, isn’t it?’

  Is it?

  ‘The cops called me to lock up,’ he went on, ‘but I can’t find my keys. I’ve made a call to the owner, and I’ll meet her here.’ He glanced up at a waiting policeman in the foyer. ‘They said there’s been an incident.’ He was a little breathless. ‘Has there been a break-in?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I said, as a raindrop slipped down my collar, making me shudder. Zoe must have lifted his keys. ‘It was Zoe, Connor,’ I added, feeling he should be prepared.

  ‘Is she OK? She came round earlier.’ He paused. ‘I know I sound like a jerk, but I’ve been trying to end things – she’s … well she’s nice enough, but a bit clingy and intense.’

  ‘You’ve had a lucky escape,’ I said, stepping out towards the taxi. ‘She isn’t who we thought she was.’

  And neither am I.

  ***

  ‘So, it seems we share the same father,’ Dillon said, as I walked towards his hospital bed. He was in the corner of the ward, sitting up, his broad shoulders resting against the pillows. In my panic at the pool, I’d barely registered his dark, wavy hair, and rugged complexion, but I could see now he was a kindly-looking man, with deep green eyes. He looked well considering what he’d been through. Thankfully, the knife hadn’t hit any major organs, although another inch and it would have struck his liver. He was lucky. At least that’s what he said.

  I sat down in the chair next to his bed. ‘It seems we do,’ I said. I hadn’t yet fully come to terms with what my mother had done. I felt as though my identity had been ripped from me, and I was no longer Rachel the psychotherapist, I was Caitlin the changeling.

  It was as though I was coping with losing her for a second time. But I was working through the trauma. Trying to understand why Laura – my mum – did what she did. Had she tried to save Caitlin, or replace Rachel? I knew she must have been psychologically scarred as she held the truth inside her all those years, lost in her paintings – rarely leaving the house. Perhaps she didn’t tell me for fear I would leave her. It had always been the two of us against the world.

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Felix again,’ I said to Dillon. ‘Or should I call him Tierney?’

  ‘My guess is he’ll want you to call him da.’

  I smiled. ‘I’m so relieved you’re going to be OK.’ And I was. I’d visited the hospital a couple of times when he was unconscious, and I was beginning to feel a connection.

  ‘Why did you come to the spa?’ I asked him. There was so much I didn’t know.

  ‘Well, I came to England to talk to you. I felt sure you were Caitlin the moment I looked into your eyes that day in the woods. I’m good with eyes. Never forget them. But I couldn’t be sure.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry about the day I saw you at the farmhouse.’

  ‘You scared the shit out of me,’ I said, but added a small smile.

  ‘Da thought you were press, was worried you would uncover Bridie’s past.’

  ‘But I told him I was a psychotherapist …’

  ‘And he didn’t believe you. So I chased you, hoping to scare you off. When I became convinced you were Caitlin, I asked Da what you’d told him. When I found out your name was Rachel, alarm bells rang. I felt sure something strange happened the day Imogen died.’ He shifted his body up the bed, and winced.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I said. ‘Do you need painkillers?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said.

  ‘Did you tell Tierney you thought I might be Caitlin?’

  He shook his head. ‘It would have sounded bizarre, basing a whole theory on your eyes and your name, plus I didn’t want him to get his hopes up. But I was desperate to find you, find out more about you. Da said you’d told him you live in Finsbury Park, so I took a flight over, and tracked you down. I wanted to talk to you, that’s all, but couldn’t find the right words. I even followed you to Suffolk and back.’

  ‘In a red car?’

  He nodded. ‘A hire car – I felt like a stalker.’

  ‘Well, you were, by definition.’ I smiled.

  ‘Then I saw Bridie with you a few times, and knew then you must be Caitlin. I didn’t trust Bridie, after what I knew about her, and how she tried to kill Da. And when I saw her put something on your doorstep and run away, my fear grew. She was dangerous, and I found myself watching you all the time – guarding you, I suppose. And then, last week, I saw her pick you up, and I followed you. It seemed odd to me that the two of you went into the spa alone. The rest is history, as they say.’

  ‘I have you to thank for my life.’

  He shrugged. ‘I ran away when you were a child – left you when you needed me most. I wasn’t about to leave you again.’ He paused. ‘It’s hard to take in what your mother … I mean Laura, did,’ he said, as a correction. But the truth was Laura would always be my mother. ‘But she was good to me when I was a teenager, so I’ll find a way to understand. We were good friends,’ he finished. And I hoped I’d come to understand too.

  I spent another half an hour with him, and before I left, I found myself taking hold of his hand and squeezing. ‘I’d like to get to know you even better, Dillon,’ I said. ‘Shall we exchange numbers?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ he said.

  It was later that day that my mobile rang. An unknown number. But I no longer felt a sense of dread as I picked up.

  ‘Miss Hogan?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Dresden Clinic here.’

  ‘Oh, hi there.’ I didn’t say I knew what she was about to tell me.

  ‘I’m ringing to let you know that there is no DNA match between yourself and Mr Jude Henshaw.’

  Chapter 50

  From the first moment I saw Caitlin, I loved her. A precious gift. A beautiful baby sister. I would cherish her always.

  People say it’s rare to recall things that happened before the age of three or four. But I remember. I remember my mother showing her to me, telling me to be careful, she might break.

  On my fifth birthday I asked Ma who my father was. ‘He raped me,’ was her cold reply. I didn’t understand what she meant at the time. I do now.

  I couldn’t always protect Caitlin from Ma’s strange moods. But I could protect her from Rachel. She was bigger than Caitlin, despite being six months younger. But she wasn’t bigger than me.

  She was a spiteful child. I didn’t like her at all. I don’t care that she’s dead.

  I remember the day I threw her cat in the lake, to get her into trouble. It worked. Rachel lost her cat. Serves her right. She was horrid to it anyway.

  But the truth was, I didn’t mean for her to die.

  In fact, it had been a nice day. It was Caitlin’s birthday, and Ma had made nice things to eat. She even sung nursery rhymes to us from Rachel’s book. But then Caitlin, Rachel, and I went upstairs, and a squabble broke out. Rachel hit Caitlin, leaving a nasty gash on her forehead, and Caitlin cried and cried. I chased Rachel out of our bedroom and across the landing to the top of the stairs. She missed her footing. She fell.

  Ma came rushing through when she heard the clatter. She just stared at Rachel’s twisted body at the foot of the stairs, and back up at me.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

  Eventually, Caitlin went downstairs, but I just sat on the top step, looking down at Rachel. It was a long while before Caitlin let out a scream – and I dashed downstairs to see Ma’s bloody arms. I grabbed Caitlin’s hand and we hid in the cupboard under the stairs.

  Later we heard Dillon cry out, and the back door slam – his footfalls heading away. That’s when we ventured out once more.

  Later Laura came and stole Caitlin away.

  I had thought she would come for me too, but I realised, when David and Janet Green took me to their grey house wit
h the bright red door, she never would.

  I liked David and Janet, and lived happily with them for five years before they told me they couldn’t care for me any more, that they were only my foster parents. I hadn’t realised it meant they would never be my forever parents. ‘We’re moving to Australia,’ David said.

  If only they’d said, ‘And we’re taking you too, Bridie.’

  But they couldn’t see how much I loved them – needed them – how I’d thought they loved me too.

  Often, David would let me sleep in the summerhouse at the foot of their long garden. It was always a great adventure. I had a bed in there, and would snuggle up with Mr Snookum.

  Mr Snookum had been Rachel’s favourite toy. In fact, there were lots of her things in the canvas bag I took that awful day: her book of nursery rhymes, a sad-looking doll I threw away – even a painting of Lough End Farm with black splodges for clouds.

  That night. The night David and Janet told me I would be going to another set of foster parents – who, they said, would love me as much as they did – I asked to sleep in the summerhouse, and they said, ‘Yes, darling, of course.’

  I waited until they were in bed, and headed inside – they always left the back door open, in case I needed the loo – and I crept up the stairs. I lit a candle and laid it at the foot of their bed, before leaving them, and closing the door behind me.

  I wedged a chair under the door handle, and ran like the wind to the summerhouse. I saw him die – not her though. She must have suffocated with the thick black fumes. They deserved to die. They let me down.

  I went back inside once he’d fallen to the floor, and I raced upstairs. Thick smoke seeped under the door, and I choked as I removed the chair.

  They couldn’t find another set of foster parents to love me as David and Janet had – it gets trickier as you get older to find people to care for you. That’s what the lady with the big hair and cabbage in her teeth told me, when I was taken to the children’s home, next to the River Liffey in Dublin.

  I didn’t mind it there. I made friends easily. I was fifteen when I started going out with Ronan.

  He told me he loved me, so I gave him my virginity. But, like everyone else, he let me down. ‘It’s over,’ he said – right there in front of everyone. ‘You’re like a leech, Bridie, the way you cling to me all the time.’ They all laughed, and I hated him after that. The knife was easy to get from the kitchens; they don’t guard them 24/7 – they really should. He deserved to die. I hate him even now.

  They knew it was me – I knew they would.

  Given my age, and the fact psychologists at the children’s home had already been seeing me for what they called abnormal behaviour, they admitted me to a psychiatric hospital. The only good thing there was the field of daffodils I could see from my window in spring. Well, until, some years later, Flora Phillips started as a psychiatric nurse. I hadn’t had myself down as bisexual, but there’d been something about Flora that turned my head.

  We would meet in places nobody frequented much – and at first the passion between us was amazing. I loved her, and she told me she loved me too; that once I was out – which wouldn’t be long now – we’d be together, always.

  She’d trained as a hairdresser before changing vocations, and she taught me to cut hair – said it would give me a career when I was released.

  Then she met someone else. A bloke. She’d made a mistake – she was straight.

  Well, of course she had to die.

  But this time they didn’t know it was me and eventually they let me out.

  Free, I was determined to find any family I had left, and went to Sligo. I remembered Lough End Farm, and everything that had happened there. I was shocked to find Tierney alive, but recognised him straight away. Dillon too. But once Tierney found out about my past, he didn’t want me there, and deported me to England with the promise of money.

  After my attempt at a normal life with Hank, I set out to find my sister and her fake mother.

  It was easy to set up a few Facebook accounts, and I took care to use different IP addresses, just in case. I even set up my own profile, with a few Photoshopped photos of my fake family in Cornwall

  It was easy to steal Rachel’s spare keys, and bring the second Mr Snookum down from the attic to spook her. It had all been rather fun.

  In fact, everything went so well – my only sadness now is I didn’t kill Caitlin.

  Chapter 51

  May 2018

  I fastened Grace’s seatbelt, as we waited for the plane to take off.

  ‘So I have a brand new grandpa and uncle,’ she said, and I knew she was struggling to take it all in. ‘I’ve never had a grandpa before,’ she said, holding her fluffy rabbit tight against her chest.

  I was about to correct her. Tell her she does have a grandpa in Australia who she’d never met, but I felt sure it would confuse her further. She’d already been through enough with my breakup with Lawrence.

  ‘Are they nice?’ she asked, looking up at me.

  ‘Dillon is lovely.’ He saved my life. ‘And Grandpa writes books.’

  ‘Like Winnie the Pooh?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Cool,’ she said, closing her eyes.

  I wondered if I’d arranged for her to meet Tierney and Dillon too soon. But it was too late now. The plane was moving down the runway.

  I looked out of the window, the rumble of the plane’s engine causing a surge of apprehension. But I felt sure I was getting there – beginning to feel better. Everything had started to settle down, as though someone had stopped shaking the snow-globe with my life inside.

  Angela and I were OK. She’d come round to see me about a month ago to tell me she was going to put her house on the market. ‘I need a fresh start,’ she’d said, and told me how she was moving in with her elderly mother, who needed her care. ‘My son often visits his gran,’ she’d gone on. ‘It could be a chance to make things right between us.’ I hoped it would be.

  She’d handed me the slippers the man had refused. ‘Will you take them for Grace?’ she’d said. ‘Please.’

  I’d taken them from her, and she’d thanked me as though I’d given her the gift.

  Lawrence had introduced me to Farrah – for Grace’s sake. I didn’t like her, although if she’d been the kindest person alive I probably wouldn’t have. She suited Lawrence better than I ever could, in her figure-hugging dresses and heels. She’d added me on Facebook, and, against my better judgement, I’d trawled through her photos and found pictures of her with Lawrence and Grace in Disneyland, but my heart had taken such a bashing over the last few months, I barely reacted.

  Zoe, no, Bridie O’Brian awaited trial. I’d learnt how she’d been in a psychiatric hospital for murdering Ronan Murphy. They’d been in a children’s home together – the building I’d seen in Dublin.

  Now she was up on four counts of murder – Flora Phillips, Henry Derby, and the Greens – as well as the attempted murder of Dillon and me. Tierney hadn’t pressed charges.

  I knew my mother had been her victim too, but the lawyer said it would be difficult to prove.

  I’d contacted Jude Henshaw to explain what the letter from my mother had meant all those years ago – that when she’d told him that his daughter, Rachel, had died, she was telling the truth. He’d wept down the phone, and I’d cried too, but I couldn’t help thinking if he’d been the person he was now, back then, none of this would have happened.

  I often wondered if we are three different people in our lifetime. The child. The adult. And the person we become when we realise the mistakes we’ve made.

  ***

  I’d agreed to meet Dillon and Tierney at the cemetery near Evermore Farmhouse. It would be the first time I’d seen Tierney since Bridie attacked mem and now it felt surreal kneeling in front of the grave of ‘Caitlin O’Brian 1986–1990’ when I knew the child lying in the ground was Rachel Hogan – that Caitlin O’Brian was me.

  A chill raced
down my spine, and I felt suddenly weak and nauseous. Everything I thought I knew about myself was wrong. I wasn’t even sure if I could go on using the name Rachel, although a search of the Internet had told me I could use any name, as long as it wasn’t for illegal purposes.

  But this had been illegal, hadn’t it? I would need to talk to a solicitor, when I could face it.

  I ran my fingers over the inscription. How had my mother lived with such a dreadful secret? But the truth was she hadn’t. I’d discovered her trips every November, when I’d spent time with Jessica as a child, were to see the grave of her real daughter.

  ‘There’re talk of exhuming her body,’ Tierney said, and I looked up to see him standing with Duke. I smiled hello. He was my father, and I wondered if I would ever get used to that, or the fact he was Grace’s grandfather.

  ‘I heard,’ I said, rising and fussing over the dog. ‘What good would that do? My mother’s dead.’

  He shrugged. ‘I hope they leave the child in peace.’

  Dillon appeared and smiled first at Grace, who was picking daisies under a nearby tree, and then my way.

  ‘It’s so good to see you both,’ I said, greeting them with a hug. Now things had fallen into place, I realised, even more, how lucky I’d been that day at the pool. Bridie had intended to watch me drown.

  Later at the farmhouse, once Grace was asleep, and Duke was lying by the fire, Dillon told me how he’d thought for a long time that his father – my father – was dead. He leaned forward and handed me a folded piece of paper. It was creased and stained dark red in places.

  ‘Read it, please,’ he said. ‘I hope it will help you understand why I left the day I found Imogen.’

  I unfolded it and scanned the words on the page:

  I must confess, before I leave this world, in the hope my God will forgive me.

  I know my parents would say taking my own life is a mortal sin, but I have nowhere else to turn, and I hope my God will understand that.

  Where to begin?

  When Tierney and his wife took Bridie and me in, I thought everything would be OK. He was a kind man, although he had a pair of lungs on him – his bark always worse than his bite. His wife was kind too, always looking out for me.