It was now four days since the will reading with all its revelations, and almost two weeks since they’d buried their mother.
In that time Lacey’s world had turned upside down and where she had once belonged, she was now adrift. The letter had told everything, spilling the beans of – how had Lillian put it? My Husband’s Sin! She had been nothing more than a thorn in Lillian’s side.
The others had all been in shock, and no-one could offer any word after the revelations. Lacey had little recollection of how she had reacted in the solicitor’s office. She knew she’d refused Robert’s offer to drive her home, before running from the building upset. She remembered the gasp from Willow and the deep moan that followed.
But Lacey needed space and time. She needed to go over the events on her own, in her own time and in privacy. The solicitor had refused to comment on what was in the letter Lillian had left her, saying he had a confidential oath to honour and that only Lacey was allowed to open it. He did, however, explain that Lillian was not Lacey’s mother. So calm and cool, clearly it was nothing new for him to witness families’ lives upturned in minutes at the reading of a will.
Lacey had not opened the poisoned letter until she arrived safely into her own sitting room, having promised the others she would phone them later.
She’d switched off her mobile and put her landline to answering machine; her door closed to the outside world. Her sisters and brother – no, correction, her half sisters and half brother – would have to wait. The time for sharing its contents would be her decision alone; it wasn’t their identity that had been shattered.
Lacey couldn’t get her head around the whole horrible revelation. In parts it made sense, in others it was unbelievable, a nasty joke. She didn’t find it one bit funny.
They, her siblings, had buried their mother nearly two weeks ago but Lacey now knew she had not. They could grieve for the woman they called Mum, but Lacey could not. The only spark, the only grain of goodness to come from all this horrible mess, was that Lacey now had an answer to a lifelong puzzle. She understood at last why Lillian had been cold, unloving and indifferent towards her. Lacey no longer felt bad about the dreadful thoughts she had entertained by the graveside.
As she stood at her apartment window, she remembered watching the coffin being lowered into the ground had scared her. It was horrible to think of what was to come, cold heavy soil thrown on and the darkness. Everything decaying, rotting into dust, “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”. She had shivered at the words. Then, that woman deserved to rot! Oh God, what had she thought? This was her mum. That was evil, wrong on all levels. She recalled wishing it was over and she could go home and forget about the day. As each minute passed by at the large open grave, she had felt more and more detached from the events at the cemetery.
Turning away from the window, it was there. The letter, that awful letter, so neatly penned, was lying on the coffee table. Her name so clearly written in blue ink by her mother, oh damn! Not her mother! She was Lillian. How was she supposed to think after reading it? How was Lacey ever to pick up her life and continue? Life lay in smithereens around her, cracked and broken like smashed egg shells, never to be put together again.
Robert and Willow had phoned her a dozen times and each time left messages. They begged her to contact them, to pick up the phone, to at least let them know she was alright. ALRIGHT?
How could she be alright? She was furious, she was miserable, she was confused – all at the same time. And that was on a good day. What were they expecting of her? That she could shrug off all that had been made known and still be the girl that she was before.
Sally had phoned on a few occasions, but also called to the apartment twice. She was the only one who had made a physical effort to call over. On both occasions, Lacey had refused to open the door to the incessant knocking and the loud doorbell. Having received no welcome or reply, Sally slipped a note underneath the apartment door that simply read,
Hey, Sis, I’m here if you need me at any time, Sally x.
The note lay beside the shocking letter. How different the contents were – one a simple note offering a hand of support, the other letter spilling venom with a slap in the face. More like a stab in the back.
Lacey felt bitter not just towards Lillian, but also to her father. Why had he not told her, or left something to explain this messy saga? Had he not thought it important that she should know her true birth details? What lousy parents they were.
She opened the fridge door and searched for something to eat. She had eaten all the cereal and now hoped there was something lying forgotten in the fridge. The yogurts were out of date, the cheese had mould, and the carrots were soft. She tried the freezer. A pizza would be nice, or a scoop or two of chocolate ice-cream, but no, nothing except meat that needed defrosting and roasting. Lacey didn’t feel like going out. She could order a takeaway, but then discovered there weren’t any teabags or milk either. Well, that decided things.
Pulling on her navy tracksuit bottoms and top, and slipping on her sneakers, she grabbed a grey hoody top and put it on. She didn’t bother combing her auburn hair or checking her appearance. This Lacey Taylor didn’t care what people thought of her at the corner shop. It was so unlike her, but who had she to answer to?
The cool fresh air of the outside rushed in as she pushed open the doors of the apartment block. It was welcome after the staleness of her home. Lacey stood still for a moment.
It felt strange to be a part of the world again. Traffic going by, people on mobile phones, and roadworks being carried out, it had all continued while Lacey had hidden away in her home being miserable with her cat, Milly. “Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone.” How bloody true it was, she thought.
Grabbing a shopping basket at the entrance to the small Shop Express, Lacey picked up readymade dinners and some fruit, cereal and milk, and a couple of bottles of white wine. The shop assistant paid no heed to her at the checkout, being more interested in checking out the new guy in the fruit and vegetable aisle. Another sign of dismissal in this world of anonymity, Lacey thought resentfully. Did anyone count in this world any more? Could this woman serving her not see that Lacey was not her usual smart, neat self? For goodness sake, she popped in here every second day for the evening paper and her favourite gossip magazine.
Here she was with no make-up; red-eyed from lack of sleep and crying; hair in a mess, clothes not matching. Yet no-one even cared or noticed. She would have thrown a tantrum if she was two years old. Instead, she stamped her foot in frustration. The cashier looked at her and dismissed her just as quickly. Lacey was nothing but an intrusion in the young woman’s day.
Lacey Taylor’s whole life had been a lie, and insignificant – the world kept turning with or without her.
Hostility sneaked into her heart. The cold dead hand of Lillian had twisted all that was good in Lacey’s life and ripped it apart. Her world now lay ruined and who really cared? No-one! That’s who! Feck them all, I don’t need any of them, she thought, and realised she was crying as she walked back down the street.
Opening her apartment door, she wiped the tears away. She would fight Lillian, even if she was in a grave, and make her life mean something; Lacey Taylor may be down, but she was definitely not out!
CHAPTER FOUR
Earlier in the morning, she had phoned work and asked for two weeks’ unpaid leave. Working for a government department, her clerical job was enjoyable and she was allowed the time off without hassle; her workmates were supportive and understanding. They knew the grief of losing a loved one, but little did they know the bombshell that had dropped on Lacey after Lillian’s death.
Her boss granted her leave and agreed for her to take some extra holidays due to her, if she wanted them. Lacey took the kind offer, so she was not due back for another three weeks. Surely she would have her head around this ugly mess by then.
Next she had to contact her half siblings and face the fallout.
&nbs
p; “Hello, Sally. It’s me, Lacey, I want–”
“Lacey! Oh, Lacey, thank goodness you’re alright! I’ve tried to contact you, I even called around.”
“I know, Sally, I’m sorry. I needed space, just some time to let it sink in.”
“And well, has it? I mean, Christ, Lacey, I don’t even know what to think, so you must be going through hell!” The genuine concern in her voice was obvious. “Can we meet up soon?” she added, when Lacey remained silent.
“I need to phone Willow and Robert, and maybe we can all meet at my place? Next Tuesday? Around eight, maybe order in, would that suit you?” she asked Sally. Lacey’s tired, feeble voice couldn’t disguise the hurt inside.
“Sure, Sis. I’ll be there.” Even if Lacey was unsure, it seemed Sally still considered her the same little sister she’d always been! Sally, Lacey knew, was a real gentle soul.
Their conversation gave her some confidence to contact the others. After some deep breaths and a strong cup of coffee, Lacey set about phoning Robert and Willow. Willow was polite on the phone with her; it was an awkwardness that embarrassed them both. Lacey wanted to tell her how much she loved her, how the love and affection from Willow during the years of growing up had been a lifeline to her. She needed that love and support more than ever, yet now there was no warmth in Willow’s voice, nor did she encourage the conversation with Lacey to linger. Where were her big sister’s soothing reassuring words?
Willow remained quiet and courteous and said just enough to confirm her attendance on Tuesday evening at 8pm. Both women had been dealt a blow by Lillian’s revelations, each dealing with it in their own very different ways. That was how Lacey reasoned with herself over Willow’s stiff and abrupt conversation.
Robert’s phone went straight to answering machine, which usually meant he was away at a conference or in a meeting. Lacey knew her brother almost never turned his cellphone off unless it was really important. She hesitated before speaking; it felt strained and uneasy leaving the message, especially after the cold conversation she and Willow had just shared.
“Hey, big brother. I know I’ve not been in touch and I’m sorry, but I was thinking of us all meeting next Tuesday at 8pm here, and maybe a takeaway? Willow and Sally are coming, hope you can make it.”
Lacey decided she would try him again maybe on Monday, just to confirm. Knowing Robert, he would be worried about his younger sister and would probably phone over the weekend anyway.
She was drained by her actions of the day. Sitting curled up on her sofa with Milly sleeping contentedly, she relaxed. Between the broken and sleepless nights, and the relief of having taken the first difficult steps to contact her family, she was now exhausted. She dozed off into the first decent sleep since the reading of the will.
* * *
Following Lacey’s phone call, Willow headed straight to her rich walnut drinks cabinet. It may only be eleven-thirty in the morning, but she needed some vodka. Pouring the clear drink into the crystal glass, she tried to steady her hand. My God, she was shaking! Adding some ice to the tumbler, Willow felt ashamed of herself.
She took her glass into the pristine white kitchen and sat at the light oak table. What was she doing? She’d barely been able to converse with Lacey. It was her little sister, for goodness sake; it wasn’t like she had spoken to a great axe murderer! But life had changed and there was no going back. She knew this deep inside her broken heart. She had loved her mum so.
The bitter vodka felt good as it hit the back of her throat. It settled her, made her sit up and take notice. Willow really needed to gain control of her emotions. It was Lacey who had been dealt the severest of blows; it was her world that had been turned upside down. But was it just Lacey’s, though? She, too, felt hurt. Her mother had lived with a terrible secret and her father had lived with a lie. Willow, as the eldest child, felt the betrayal most.
The shaking in her hand stopped; she felt more composed. Glancing at the kitchen clock, she realised it was time to start preparing lunch for her and Derek. Even though people said there was no smell from vodka, Willow decided to brush her teeth anyway. Unwrapping the plastic covering from a new toothbrush, she proceeded with the task.
“Ouch,” she spat. The brush was hard in her mouth. “Like a bloody yard brush,” she said, with a mouth full of frothy toothpaste. She stared into the mirror and continued with no mercy shown to her gums. There was no point having Derek asking unwanted questions.
* * *
Robert listened to the message over and over again. Lacey sounded fragile and worn out. Next Tuesday they would all meet up at hers – and what? What indeed! If someone had told him that his life was going to be brought almost to a standstill over two weeks ago, he would have laughed. Now he constantly wondered what the next hour would reveal. Never would he take things at face value again.
Robert Taylor – six foot two, successful businessman, Mercedes owner, with a wicked sexy smile that all the ladies adored – was angry and confused. What had his father been truly like? Robert had loved the man without question, and Joe Taylor’s death had been a real arrow through his heart. He’d never considered for a single moment that his dad was capable of deceit, especially deceit concerning his own flesh and blood.
And his mother, what had she gone through? Why had she gone along with the lies? He had always believed his parents to be a strong, united, loving couple. They had seemed to have the type of old-fashioned marriage where couples suffered bad times only to rejoice in the good. But living and hiding lies; how could they? Now at 30 years of age, he came to the bitter conclusion that every time he looked at Lacey, he would be reminded of everything that had been wrong in his parents’ lives.
What would Aoife make of it? Of him?
CHAPTER FIVE
Nerves took over, making Lacey pace the apartment all that weekend. On a number of occasions she was tempted to phone the others and cancel Tuesday evening. When she’d try to sit and watch some TV, she would find herself wondering, what if? What if they were hostile towards her? What if they blamed her for their mother’s death? Oh my God, she hadn’t really thought about that until now. Maybe Lillian had suffered her heart attack because of the horrible secret she’d carried all those years.
Lacey’s palms became sticky, her hair damp, and her armpits felt moist and uncomfortable; a cold sweat made her shiver. That’s it! How had she been so foolish as to not realise it before? She had killed her mother! Well, her stepmother technically, but those small issues didn’t matter. The point was Lacey Taylor had caused her mother to have a heart attack! She ran to the bathroom where she threw up, that horrible thought circling her mind.
Lillian had carried her husband’s infidelity to her grave. She could have told Lacey before now, especially after her father’s death. Why had she not done so? Why did Lillian wait until after her own passing to reveal all? Having to act the part of mother dearest all those years must have been a strain, so why did she not tell Lacey then? Did it give Lillian more pleasure knowing the young girl would feel an outcast or unwanted by revealing everything after her death?
Wiping her mouth, she washed her hands, her mind full of dark thoughts. No, Lacey hoped Lillian hadn’t hated her that much. After all, she did protect Joe Taylor even after his death. So what was it? What was the reasoning behind this confused and horrible scenario that Lacey found herself living in?
She had not been an outcast or unwanted, surely? That was a thought she really didn’t want to entertain. Her father had been there for her and so had Lillian – to a certain extent – even if it was against the woman’s will. Lacey strolled back to her sitting room, unsure of so much.
Stretching out with Milly on the cream suede sofa where she seemed to have lodged for the past month, she didn’t believe she had been unloved by her father. Where did that leave her real mother? The letter that revealed her true origins gave little away about her birth mother. It just gave Lillian’s view of things, which had been nasty at that! There had to b
e something else out there, some documentation that told her the real story and not just a one-sided view.
Oh, why did her father die so suddenly and not leave her a letter? Did he not see the whole thing as being a huge deal in Lacey’s life? Surely he had wanted to explain, even defend why he did what he did. Maybe he hadn’t cared at all. Maybe, having reared Lacey with his other children, he felt his part was done. Why rock the boat? Had he believed there wasn’t any reason that everything should be revealed? It looked as though she would never know what he’d thought.
She ran her fingers through her rich long hair and wanted to scream.
“Why not?” she spoke out loud. “I can do as I please, and right now I want to scream.” So she did. She let out an earth-shattering scream that came from the depths of her belly. She felt the anger, confusion, frustration and helplessness of her whole self come tumbling out, filling the sitting room. Milly ran for cover beneath the coffee table and screeched along with her mistress.
Lacey stopped. Her throat ached with rawness and tears washed down over her cheeks, staining all in their path. But damn it, she felt better. It was better than thumping a pillow.
Suddenly there was a knocking on her door. Still in the throes of confusing questions and not really thinking at all, Lacy automatically went to open it.
“Hey, Mrs O’Shea, how are you?” Lacey said, when she saw her neighbour standing before her.
“Lacey, I heard terrible screams. Are you okay”? The older woman’s eyes took in her young neighbour’s red eyes and blotchy face, and tried to look over Lacey’s shoulder to get a good view into the apartment.
“Sorry, Mrs O’Shea, it was me. I have a sore throat and one of the girls at work told me to scream out loud. Apparently, it helps clear the throat and aid healing.” She hoped the blush in her face would be mistaken for a high temperature.
The woman at the door, still unsure, subtly tried to manoeuvre inside but Lacey put her arm up and rested her hand on the handle. Mrs. O’Shea took the hint.
My Husband's Sin Page 2