by Brothers
‘Detective Kelly.’
‘Timothy.’ Kelly refolded the paper that was in his hands and stuffed it back into his inside pocket. He had left Louise talking with Marie in the family room moments earlier to read the letter in the corridor. ‘I’m very sorry to hear about Rose, I don’t know what to say.’ He sighed.
‘Thank you,’ Tim managed.
‘Do you want to take a walk?’ Kelly asked, he looked over Tim’s shoulder suspiciously.
‘I don’t really want to be far away from Lizzie, that is unless I have to,’ Tim answered.
‘Well, just come down here a little further, would you.’ Kelly glanced back towards the closed doors once more.
‘Okay.’ Tim followed him.
‘Thing is, I was here to arrest you this morning. I have the warrant here.’ He patted the breast pocket of his jacket.
‘And?’
‘And I was just handed a signed confession for the murder of Patrick Fitzpatrick, well, self- defence if I’m right in picking up what happened.’ He cleared his throat and pointed to a vacant seating area further down the corridor. They sat opposite each other.
Tim looked at him inquisitively. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘The thing is, if I take this confession at face value, you are completely off the hook.’ There was a suggestion in his voice that he thought the confession was questionable.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Here, read it for yourself.’ Kelly handed Tim the piece of paper from his pocket.
Tim noticed Rose’s writing on the envelope. ‘From Rose?’ Tim remembered Lizzie showing him the letters earlier that morning. He hadn’t thought about it since.
‘Read it,’ Kelly instructed again. He folded back the creases and placed it back in his hand.
‘Dear Detective Kelly, I see it’s dated last week,’ Tim noticed. ‘In 1970, I was the victim of rape at the hands of my uncle, Patrick Fitzpatrick…’ Tim began reading aloud but reduced his volume to a whisper as his eyes scanned over the words. ‘…On the family farm in Kilkenny. I was fourteen when the abuse happened, and due to my naivety, I didn’t realise I had fallen pregnant by him. Times were different then, we were not as advanced as teenagers are today.’ Tim’s nostrils flared as the buried anger bubbled inside of him. He thumped the seat beside him. When my then seventeen-year-old brother, Tim, realised what was happening to me, he did what any brother worth his salt would do and confronted him. You see, we had the type of upbringing that involved us bringing up ourselves. We couldn’t have told our parents, my mother was frail, weakened by the physical violence her husband, my father, had subjected her to and also by the sexual violence she suffered at the hands of Patrick Fitzpatrick. Patrick bragged about what he did to my mother to me, so you see, she couldn’t have helped, she wasn’t able to help herself.
Tim and I would never have told my father, it would have angered him more, and God knows who he would have taken his anger out on: me, Tim, my mother, we just couldn’t be sure, so Tim confronted Patrick himself, and after they fought physically, Tim warned him to leave, to never come back and as far as we were all concerned, that’s what he did, disappeared like the coward he was.
However, what Tim doesn’t realise is that I was so worried that Tim would get hurt that I followed him the night he set out to find my uncle. I hid in the bushes while they fought and when it was over I watched Tim leave. My uncle was still very much alive. He stood from where Tim had left him, steadied himself and began to make his way home. When I noticed he was drunk, zigzagging back and forth on the road repeatedly, I decided that I should get home too, thinking that he wouldn’t notice me if I left my hiding place, but he did and he grabbed me on the road, just across from the ditch from where you found him. I tried my best to get away from him but he was just too strong. I knew by the way he was unbuckling his belt that he was going to rape me again and I had had enough. I believed that my uncle would kill me that night. I was afraid that if I screamed that Tim would hear me and he would come running back and he would end up getting killed too. And when he pushed me to the ground, held my throat and lay on top of me … Tim closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Streams of tears erupted down his face. He fought hard to stop the anger that was rising from his stomach and choking him. …I reached behind me, lifted a rock from the ground and hit him as hard as I could on the head. It was then that it stopped. Tim lifted his head from the letter to look at Kelly. I rolled him off me into the ditch and ran as fast as I could for home. Tim sat stunned into silence. It is my wish that the detail of my encounters be used solely and purposefully for the reason of establishing the truth and should in no way be taken out of context or out of the confidence of the law in so far as is possible. My reasons are to protect my children, both Lizzie and my son Michael, who should never know who his father was.
‘Fucking hell Rose,’ Tim said, wiping his mouth with his thumb and finger. ‘Can she do this?’
‘She just did,’ Kelly answered. He rewound the scene in the family room when he arrived and remembered Marie McGrath offering him coffee. ‘The Michael,’ Kelly pointed to the letter in Tim’s shaking hands, ‘is Michael McGrath, from the farm.’ Tim nodded. ‘Which answers why he was able to buy the farm at half price.’
‘The proceeds of the sale then were put in a trust for Lizzie,’ Tim said. ‘That’s the way Rose wanted it.’
‘Makes sense, half and half,’ Kelly said. ‘Did Michael know?’
‘Not until an hour ago,’ Tim said.
Kelly nodded. ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ Kelly stood, ‘if Rose’s account can be believed…’ He looked at Tim, he had his suspicions that Rose may have fabricated the story to save Tim from the consequences, but he admired her for it and now that Rose had passed away, none of them but Tim would ever know whether it was true. ‘The case is closed.’
Tim’s head fell into his hands. He wiped his sweaty hand in his trousers and met Kelly’s as he stood.
‘I admire what you did, Timothy.’
‘But that’s just it, Kelly, I didn’t do anything.’
‘Well,’ Kelly accepted Tim at his word. ‘Well, here’s to Rose who, at the age of fourteen, had the strength to bring that bastard to justice.’ For curiosity’s sake, he would have loved to know, was it Tim protecting Rose, or was it Rose protecting Tim. Either way, he believed that justice had been done, not that he could have admitted that publicly though. He stood to leave extending his hand to Tim. ‘I suppose, the only two people who will ever know the truth is you and Rose and I’m okay with that, what you did, what you both did for each other has my full respect. You won’t be hearing anything more from the Gardaí.’
Tim sat back down in silence as Detective Kelly moved away. He watched as patients shuffled by and staff sprinted past. He listened as high-pitched beeps bounced from the ceilings and doors swished open and closed. Muffled voices trailed along the walls, falling inaudibly on his ears. He sat forward, his elbows landing on his knees, life went on without her, it wasn’t fair. He reached inside his pocket and held her whistle in his hand.
‘Tim.’ Lizzie sat beside him and placed her hand in his. ‘You doing okay?’
‘I am, love,’ he said. ‘You?’ He squeezed her hand tight. She nodded, her voice unable to lie. ‘God, Lizzie, what will we do without her.’ Tim studied Lizzie, the sorrow in his eyes second only to hers. She screwed up her mouth and bit the inside of her cheek, just like her mother did.
‘She wrote you a letter too,’ she said and handed him the last envelope. ‘I’ll leave you to read it.’ She kissed her uncle on the forehead, squeezed his shoulder and stood to leave. ‘Come up to the family room, when you are ready.’ She walked away, knowing how hard it would be for him to read it.
He emptied his lungs slowly, scratched his head and unfolded the paper, his hands shook.
My Darling Tim,
For you, my brother, are the light of my life.
Tim, what you did for me, how you protecte
d me, will be forever engrained on my heart. I was only strong because you were there and I am strong now because I know you will always be.
I cannot begin to tell you how you have saved my heart. You have given me the strength to love, by teaching me that love conquers all. In the face of fear, you are the bravest soul I know. Because of you I can face whatever this life can send me, these muscles may not do what I tell them to but my heart will and because you have shown me that there is something inside so strong, I have lived a wonderful, blessed life.
Thank you for bringing me to the McGraths all those years ago and helping me to leave Michael in their home. I still believe that he is where he belongs but I can’t shake the feeling that he belongs with us too. I wish for you all that you find each other, if this stupid illness has taught me anything, it’s that life is too short, find each other and love each other and then when you’ve done that, love each other some more. The greatest wish I have is that Lizzie will have a brother like I had.
Robert, lovely Robert, is the kindest man I know and tell him from me, since he arrived into your flat with his bell-bottoms and beard all those years ago, I knew he would never leave. He will always have a piece of my heart.
It is unimaginable to think that someone as kind-hearted as you could be treated as though you have done something wrong. In my eyes you are a hero, the man who saved me. With my last breath, I promise you that Patrick Fitzpatrick will never cause any trouble for us again. I love you my brother, my light, my life.
Your Rosie. X
Epilogue
Fitzpatrick Estate Christmas 2016 – 6 Months Later
Eve watched in anticipation as the amber lights of the cars on the road below, whizzed by. With each passing car, she was becoming even more disappointed. The motorised snowman hummed as he bowed slowly, tipping his hat every thirty seconds to the background Christmas tunes that Jack had play listed for their mum on his iPad.
‘Aww,’ Eve sighed. ‘That’s not them either.’ Her red velvet dress swished as she twirled around the drawing room and the bow that she had chosen with her daddy, that day, pulled her beautiful blonde curls from her face. ‘When will they be here?’ She had been ready for an hour already and there was no sign of her party guests.
‘Soon, love, soon.’ Marie smiled as she straightened the stockings she had hung on the marble fireplace. There were nine hanging this year, a family record for the McGraths. She had all their names embroidered on each one and Eve and Jack had filled them with the gifts they had chosen at the school Christmas fair. Marie left the drawing room to check on the oven. ‘Why don’t you help me set the table?’ she called back to Eve, whose excitement had been bubbling over all day.
‘Can I sit beside Aunty Lizzie, Mum, please?’ Eve pulled the plastic wrapper from the Christmas crackers and set about lining them up in front of each place.
‘Sure, darling.’ She was nearly as excited as her daughter, it wasn’t often that they had a reason to entertain and now, with their new-found extended family, she pictured herself doing it all the time. ‘I’d say Uncle George will want to sit with Uncle Tim and Uncle Robert, don’t you think?’ She handed Eve nine silver napkin rings from the dresser and a pile of carefully folded linen napkins.
‘Ooh, the giant’s wedding rings,’ Eve said, making her mother smile; the only use her Newbridge Silver had ever seen up till now was in Eve’s imagination. ‘Jack will want to sit beside Lucas, I’d say.’ Eve threw her eyes upwards and gave a dramatic, animated sigh. ‘Technology.’ She nodded her head and placed her hand on her hip as though she were the adult.
‘True for you, Eve, true for you.’ Marie laughed.
‘Can we not use these Mum, these are nicer?’ She waved the Christmassy paper napkins in front of her mum instead, stashing the old Irish linen back on the dresser. They were red and green and had funny-looking reindeer on.
‘Maybe use both?’ Marie answered. ‘Actually, maybe put Dad with Lucas and Jack as well, we don’t want him to feel left out, do we?’
‘I suppose not.’ Eve’s face was radiant in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and the roaring log fire in the drawing room had made her cheeks glow.
Marie checked her watch, an early but extravagant present from Michael; he had wanted her to have it for Christmas Eve and had given it to her in bed that morning. She slipped out of her slippers and stepped into her heels that she had placed in the hall. They sparkled, just like she hoped her first family Christmas Eve party would. ‘I think that’s someone arriving there now.’ She kissed Eve on her head and scooped up her slippers from the rug. ‘Michael, they’re here,’ she called up the stairs. ‘Jack, come down and say hello.’ Her shy, but smiling son bounded down the stairs as he was told to do.
‘Lizzie, oh,’ Marie kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek and did the same with Lucas. ‘You look even more radiant than usual.’ Marie ushered them both inside. ‘Eve has been waiting patiently all day. We all have.’ She giggled. A blast of cold December air swirled around the hallway and scents of cinnamon and log fires greeted her first guests inside.
‘So have I,’ Lucas said, raising his eyebrows to Eve who was watching them unbutton their coats impatiently. You could smell the cold from them. ‘Someone,’ he pointed deliberately at Lizzie as Eve giggled, ‘couldn’t decide…’ He placed their overnight cases to the side and stacked the Hamley’s bags that were overflowing with Christmassy wrapped gifts, deliberately on top of them. ‘…Which present to get their favourite niece and nephew, so…’ he bent down to Eve’s ear and placed his hand to his mouth to whisper, ‘she bought them all.’
‘I heard that,’ Lizzie said as she shook the droplets of rain from her hair. ‘But he is right you know.’
Her wide happy eyes made Michael smile as he watched his sister from the landing. The past year had been the most bizarre he had ever known, a dead body on his land, a letter from his dead mother, another letter from Rose, a mother who he had never known, and Lizzie, a sister, who just happened to be the light of both his and his family’s lives. He was delighted Marie had talked him into hosting Christmas this year. But then again, he smiled as he visualised her in the bed this morning, she was usually right about most things.
‘I did actually buy them all,’ Lizzie said, ignoring the exaggerated look that Marie was giving her. ‘What, I’m their aunty; I can do reckless and irresponsible things.’ She lunged for Eve and Jack and ran away from Marie as she swiped for her with a tea towel.
‘I’ll throw the bags up, will I, out of the way?’ Lucas said.
‘Good idea, Lucas,’ Marie said. She was as sure as she could be, that the old Lucas, the friend that she loved in college, was the Lucas who was now in love with her sister-in-law and as much as Michael had revolted against it, he was warming up to the idea of Lucas being back in their lives. And if she was truthful, she felt a little smug that her judgement hadn’t been totally askew after all. ‘I’ve put you in the back, Lizzie’s favourite room.’
‘Great.’ Lucas smiled. He snatched up the bags in his arms. He hadn’t stayed here with Lizzie the few times that she had stayed over, but from the numerous tours that Eve had made him take on his day visits, he was sure he knew which one Marie meant. ‘Merry Christmas Marie.’ He smiled at her widely. ‘I appreciate you and Michael inviting me, I really do.’ He grabbed as many handles as he could and bounded up the stairs.
Michael was standing on the landing waiting for him. ‘Lucas.’ He held out his hand and Lucas placed down a bag to shake it.
‘Michael, Merry Christmas.’ Lucas’s hand was much smaller than Michael’s. ‘Lovely to see you again.’
‘And you,’ Michael said, holding his grip a moment too long. ‘You know,’ he smiled, finally letting go of his hand, ‘I’ve been warned…’ Michael’s smile was warm and wide. He took a slight step backwards as though to appear less threatening. ‘I’ve been warned by my wife and my sister to be nice.’ He couldn’t help but grin. When Lizzie and Marie got toge
ther lately, they were a force to be reckoned with.
‘I like the odds of that.’ Lucas laughed and exhaled. It was only then that he realised that he had been tense for the entire journey down. It had taken him some time to dispel the awful isolated impression Michael had of him. But he still hadn’t won him over completely. ‘If I had to pick a team…’ He raised his eyebrows just enough and threw a glance back down the garland decorated stairs towards Lizzie and Marie. ‘I’d want it to be the two of them.’ Michael and Lucas laughed together. It was the first time they had agreed on anything.
‘I’m glad to have you here, Lucas,’ Michael’s chest relaxed. ‘I actually am.’
‘What, just so you don’t have to listen to the girls on your own?’
‘There is that,’ he smiled. ‘How has Lizzie been doing?’
‘She has good and bad days, but mostly good, she misses her parents so much, mostly around now, of course. I try and get over at least every weekend and she gets back to London when I can’t get here.’
‘I saw your piece in the Indo. Leaving investigative journalism behind for the opinion pieces?’ It was a surprise departure for Lucas but he had jumped at the chance when the editor of the Irish Independent had asked him to do it. They placed the bags on the carpeted floor and Michael moved to pull the curtains.
‘Well, I’m hoping to make that a more permanent feature, that was only as a guest piece, but if the talks I have lined up for January go well, the paper might take me on more permanently.’ Michael listened. It was a good sign that Lucas was making moves to be in Ireland more full time, especially since Lizzie was tied up with the interior design course in Dublin. Michael worried about her being lonely in Rose’s old house.