She climbed around the car, the icy wet rain pelting down on her, soaking her in an instant. The surface was wet and mucky beneath her, causing her to lose her footing numerous times, but as her heart beat wildly in her chest and as she found herself back in a distant memory, reliving it, she couldn’t feel the pain in her ankle as she went over on it; she couldn’t feel the scrapes of branches and twigs on her face, the hidden rocks among the gorse that bruised her legs.
Around the far side of the car, she saw a person. Or a body at least, and her heart sank. She shone the light near him. He was bloodied. Covered in it. The door had been smashed shut, she couldn’t pull it open, but the window pane of the driver’s side had shattered, so at least she had access to his upper half. She tried to keep calm as she shone the flashlight.
‘Tony,’ she breathed as she saw the figure. ‘Tony.’ Tears welled in her eyes. ‘Tony.’ She clawed at the man, ran her hands across his face, urged him to wake. ‘Tony, it’s me,’ she said. ‘I’m here.’
The man groaned but his eyes remained closed.
‘I’m going to get you out of here,’ she whispered in his ear, kissing him on the forehead. ‘I’m going to get you home.’
His eyes slowly opened and she felt a jolt. Blue eyes. Not brown. Tony had brown eyes.
He looked at her. She looked at him. She was taken out of her nightmare.
‘Sir,’ she said, her voice shakier than she wanted. She took a deep breath and started again. ‘Sir, can you hear me? My name is Jessica, can you hear me? Help is on the way, okay? We’re going to help you.’
He groaned and closed his eyes.
‘They’re on their way now,’ Raphie panted from above her, starting to make his way down.
‘Raphie, it’s dangerous down here, it’s too slippy, stay up there so they can see you.’
‘Is anyone alive?’ he asked, ignoring her request and continuing to slowly move down one foot at a time.
‘Yes,’ she called back. ‘Sir, give me your hand.’ She shone the torch to look at his hand and her stomach flipped at the sight. She took a moment to adjust her breathing and she brought the flashlight up again. ‘Sir, take my hand. Here I am, can you feel it?’ She gripped him tight.
He groaned.
‘Stay with me now, we’re going to get you out of here.’
He groaned some more.
‘What? I can’t … em … don’t worry, sir, an ambulance is on its way.’
‘Who is it?’ Raphie called. ‘Do you know?’
‘No,’ she called back simply, not wanting to take her attention away from this man, not wanting to lose him.
‘My wife,’ she heard him whisper, so quietly it could have been mistaken for an exhale. She moved her ear to his lips, so close she could feel them on her ear lobe, the stickiness of the blood.
‘You have a wife?’ she asked gently. ‘You’ll see her. I promise, you’ll see her. What’s your name?’
‘Lou,’ he said, then he started to cry softly, and even that was such an effort that he had to stop.
‘Please hang in there, Lou.’ She fought back the tears and then put her ear to his lips again as he breathed some more words.
‘A pill? Lou, I don’t have any –’
He let go of her hand suddenly and started pulling at his coat, thumping his chest with a lifeless hand as though that movement was the equivalent to lifting a car. He grunted with the effort; he whimpered from the pain. Reaching into his breast pocket, which was soaked with blood, Jessica took out the container. There was one white pill left inside.
‘Is this your medication, Lou?’ she asked unsurely. ‘Do I –?’ She looked up to Raphie, who was trying to figure out how to make it down through the tricky terrain. ‘I don’t know if I’m supposed to give you –’
Lou took her hand and squeezed it with such strength that she immediately opened the container, with a shaking hand, and shook the single pill onto her palm. With trembling fingers she lifted his mouth open, placed the pill on his tongue and closed his mouth. She quickly looked around to see if Raphie had seen her. He was still only halfway down the slope.
When she looked back at Lou, he was looking at her, wide-eyed. He gave her such a look of love, of absolute gratitude for that one simple thing, that it filled her heart with hope. Then he gasped for air and his body shuddered, before he closed his eyes and left the world.
28.
For Old Time’s Sake
At exactly the same time as Lou Suffern left one world and entered another, he stood in the front garden of his Howth home, drenched to the very core. He was trembling from the experience he’d just had. He didn’t have much time, but there was nowhere in the world he’d rather have been right at that moment.
He stepped through the front door, his shoes squelching on the tiles. The fire in the sitting room was crackling, the floor below the tree was filled with presents, wrapped with pretty ribbons. Lucy and Pud were so far the only children in the family, and so family tradition decided that his parents, Quentin and Alexandra, and this year the newly separated Marcia, would be staying overnight in his house. Their joy at seeing Lucy’s reaction on Christmas morning was too immense to deny them of. Tonight he couldn’t imagine not being with them; he couldn’t think of anything that would fill his heart with any more joy. He entered the dining room, hoping they would see him, hoping that Gabe’s last miraculous gift wouldn’t fail him now.
‘Lou.’ Ruth looked up from the dinner table and saw him first. She leapt out of her chair and ran to him. ‘Lou, honey, are you okay? Did something happen?’
His mother rushed to get a towel for him.
‘I’m fine,’ he sniffed, cupping her face with his hands and not taking his eyes off her. ‘I’m fine now. I was calling,’ he whispered. ‘You didn’t answer.’
‘Pud hid the phone again,’ she said, studying him with concern. ‘Are you drunk?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘No,’ he laughed. ‘I’m in love,’ he whispered back, then raised his voice so that the whole room could hear. ‘I’m in love with my beautiful wife,’ he repeated. He kissed her fully on the lips, then breathed in her hair, kissed her neck, kissed her everywhere on her face, not caring who was there to see. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered to her, barely able to get words out of his mouth, his tears were so heavy.
‘Sorry about what? What happened?’
‘I’m sorry for the things that I’ve done to you. For being the way I was. I love you. I never meant to hurt you.’
Ruth’s eyes filled. ‘Oh, I know that, sweetheart, you already told me, I know.’
‘I just realised that when I’m not with you, I’m ruthless,’ he smiled, and his tearful mother – who’d returned with a towel – laughed and clapped her hands, before grabbing her husband’s hand at the table.
‘To all of you,’ he pulled away from Ruth, but wouldn’t let go of her hand, ‘I’m so sorry to all of you.’
‘We know that, Lou,’ Quentin smiled, emotion thick in his voice. ‘It’s all water under the bridge now. Okay? Stop worrying and sit down for dinner, it’s all okay.’
Lou looked to his parents, who smiled and nodded. His father had tears in his eyes and nodded emphatically that it was all okay. His sister Marcia was blinking fiercely to stop her tears, moving the silverware around on the table.
They dried him, they loved him, they kissed him, they fed him, though he wouldn’t eat much. He told them in turn that he loved them, over and over again, until they were laughing and telling him to stop. He went upstairs to get a change of clothes before, according to his mother, he caught pneumonia. While upstairs, he heard Pud crying and immediately left his bedroom and hurried to his son’s room.
The room was dark, with just a night light. He could see Pud wide awake and standing up against the railings of his cot, like a woken prisoner held captive by the sleep army. Lou switched the light on and went inside. Pud viewed him angrily at first.
‘Hey there, little man,’ Lou said gently. �
�What are you doing awake?’
Pud just gave a quiet little moan.
‘Oh, come here.’ Lou leaned over the railings and lifted him up, holding him close in his arms and shushing him. For the first time ever, Pud didn’t scream the house down when his father came near him. Instead, he smiled, pointed a finger in Lou’s eye, in his nose, then in his mouth, where he tried to grab his teeth.
Lou started laughing. ‘Hey, you can’t have them. You’ll have your own soon, though.’ He kissed Pud on the cheek. ‘When you’re a big boy, all sorts of things will happen.’ He looked at his son, feeling sad that he would miss all of those things. ‘Mind Mummy for me, won’t you,’ he whispered, his voice shaking.
Pud laughed, suddenly hyper, and blew bubbles with his lips.
Lou’s tears quickly disappeared at the sound of Pud’s laughter. He lifted him up, put Pud’s belly on his head and started jiggling him about. Pud laughed so hard, Lou couldn’t help but join in.
From the corner of his eye, Lou saw Lucy at the door watching them.
‘Now, Pud,’ he spoke loudly, ‘how about you and I go into Lucy’s room and jump on her bed to wake her up – what do you think?’
‘No, Daddy!’ Lucy laughed, exploding into the room. ‘I’m awake!’
‘Oh, you’re awake too! Are you both the little elves that help Santa?’
‘No,’ Lucy laughed. Pud laughed too.
‘Well then, you’d better hurry to bed, or else Santa won’t come to the house if he sees you awake.’
‘What if he sees you?’ she asked.
‘Then he’ll leave extra presents,’ he smiled.
She ruffled up her nose. ‘Pud smells of poo. I’m getting Mummy.’
‘No, I can do it.’ He looked at Pud, who looked back at him and smiled.
Lucy stared at him as though he were insane.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he laughed. ‘How hard can this be? Now come on, buddy, help me out here.’ He smiled at Pud nervously. Pud’s open palm smacked his father across the face playfully. Lucy howled with laughter.
Lou laid Pud down on the ground, so that he wouldn’t wriggle off the changing mat on top of the unit that Ruth used.
‘Mummy puts him up there.’
‘Well, Daddy doesn’t,’ he said, while trying to figure out how to undo the babygro.
‘The buttons are at the bottom.’ Lucy sat down beside him.
‘Oh. Thanks.’ He opened the buttons and rolled it up Pud’s body, evacuating all clothes from the area. He untaped the new nappy and slowly opened it. Turned it around in his hands, trying to figure out which way it went.
‘Oh pooh!’ Lucy dove backwards, her fingers pinching her nose. ‘Piglet goes on the front,’ she said through her blocked nose.
Lou moved quickly to try to get the situation in hand, while Lucy rolled around fanning the air with exaggerated drama. Impatient with his father’s progress, Pud began kicking his legs, forcing Lou away from him. With Pud on his knees, his rear end in Lou’s face, Lou crawled around behind him, approaching his bottom with a baby wipe, as though attacking him with a feather duster. His light swipes were not helping the situation. He needed to get in there. Holding his breath, he went for it. With Pud momentarily under control and playing with a ball that had caught his eye, Lucy handed the various apparatus to Lou.
‘You’re supposed to put that cream on next.’
‘Thanks. You’ll always take care of Pud, won’t you, Lucy?’
She nodded solemnly.
‘And you’ll take care of Mummy?’
‘Yessss.’ She punched the air.
‘And Pud and Mummy will take care of you,’ he said, finally grabbing Pud’s podgy legs and pulling him from under the cot and along the carpet while Pud screeched like a pig.
‘And we’ll all take care of Daddy!’ she hurrahed, dancing around.
‘Don’t worry about Daddy,’ he said quietly, trying to figure out which way to put the nappy on. Finally he got the gist, and quickly closed the buttons on Pud’s suit. ‘Tonight we’re going to let him sleep without his pyjamas.’ He tried to sound sure of himself.
‘Mummy puts the lights out so that he gets sleepy,’ Lucy whispered.
‘Oh, okay, let’s do that,’ Lou whispered, turning off the lights so that the Winnie the Pooh night light was all that circulated on the ceiling.
Pud made a few gurgles and spurts, non-words as he watched the lights.
Lou hunkered down in the darkness, pulling Lucy close to him, and he sat on the carpet hugging his little girl and watched the pooh bear of very little brain chasing a honeypot on the ceiling. It was his moment to tell her now.
‘You know that no matter where Daddy is, no matter what’s happening in your life, no matter if you’re sad or happy or lonely or lost, remember that I’m always there for you. Even if you don’t see me, know that I’m in here,’ he touched her head, ‘and I’m in here,’ he touched her heart. ‘And I’m always looking at you, and I’m always proud of you and of everything you do, and when you sometimes question how I ever felt about you, remember right now, remember me saying that I love you, my sweetheart. Daddy loves you, okay?’
‘Okay, Daddy,’ she said sadly. ‘What about when I’m naughty? Will you love me when I’m naughty?’
‘When you’re naughty,’ he thought about it, ‘remember that Daddy is somewhere always hoping that you’ll be the best that you can be.’
‘But where will you be?’
‘If I’m not here, I’ll be elsewhere.’
‘Where is that?’
‘It’s a secret,’ he whispered, trying to hold back his tears.
‘A secret elsewhere,’ she whispered back, her warm sweet breath on his face.
‘Yeah.’ He hugged her tight, and tried not to let a sound pass his lips as his tears fell, hot and thick.
Downstairs in the dining room, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house as they listened to the conversation in Pud’s nursery over the baby intercom. For the Sufferns they were tears of joy because a son, a brother and a husband had finally come back to them.
That night, Lou Suffern made love to his wife, and afterwards held her close to him, rubbing his hands down her silky hair until he drifted away, and even then his fingertips continued to trace the contours of her face: the little turn-up of her nose, her high cheekbones, the tip of her chin, along her jawline then all the way along her hairline, as though he were a blindman seeing her for the first time.
‘I’ll love you forever,’ he whispered to her, and she smiled, halfway to her dream world.
It was in the middle of the night that the dream world was shattered when Ruth was awakened by the gate buzzer. Half-asleep, she stood in her dressing gown and welcomed both Raphie and Jessica into her home. Quentin and Lou’s father accompanied her, keen to protect the house against such late-night dangers. But they couldn’t protect her from this.
‘Morning,’ Raphie said sombrely as they all gathered in the living room. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you at such a late hour.’
Ruth looked the young garda beside him up and down, at her dark black eyes that seemed cold and sad, at the grass and dried muck splattered on her boots, which clung to the bottom of her navy-blue trousers. At the small scrapes across the face and the cut that she was trying to hide behind her hair.
‘What is it?’ Ruth whispered, her voice catching in her throat. ‘Tell me, please.’
‘Mrs Suffern, I think you should sit down,’ Raphie said gently.
‘We should get Lou,’ she whispered, looking to Quentin. ‘He wasn’t in bed when I woke up, he must be in his study.’
‘Ruth,’ the young garda said, so softly that Ruth’s heart sank even further, and as her body went limp she allowed Quentin to reach for her and pull her down to the couch beside him and Lou’s father. They grabbed one another’s hands, squeezed one another so tightly that they were linked like a chain, and they listened as Raphie and Jessica told them how life for them had changed beyo
nd all comprehension, as they learned that a son, a brother and a husband had left them as suddenly as he’d arrived.
While Santa laid gifts in homes all across the country; while lights in windows began to go out for the night; while wreaths upon doors became fingers upon lips and blinds went down as the eyelids of a sleeping home drooped, hours before a turkey went through a window at another home in another district, Ruth Suffern had yet to learn that despite losing her husband she had gained his child, and together the family realised – on the most magical night of the year – the true gift that Lou had given them in the early hours of Christmas morning.
29.
The Turkey Boy 5
Raphie watched the Turkey Boy’s reaction as he heard the last of the story. He was silent for a moment.
‘How do you know all of this?’
‘We’ve been piecing it all together today. Talking to the family and to his colleagues.’
‘Did you talk to Gabe?’
‘Briefly, earlier. We’re waiting for him to come to the station.’
‘And you called to Lou’s house this morning?’
‘We did.’
‘And he wasn’t there.’
‘Nowhere to be seen. Sheets still warm from where he’d lain.’
‘Are you making this up?’
‘Not a word of it.’
‘Do you expect me to believe this?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Then what was the point?’
‘People tell stories, and it’s up to those who listen whether to believe them or not. It’s not the job of the storyteller.’
Cecelia Ahern 2-book Bundle Page 24