In My Mother's Name: A totally addictive and emotional psychological thriller

by Laura Elliot

  I’ve taken down my posters of the Spice Girls. Girl power. Hah. They have it all and they still haven’t a clue what a mess-up life is. I’ve dumped the stars from the ceiling into the rubbish skip. The paint came away and the ceiling looks like it has acne. Dad put the stars up when I was a kid. They’re luminous in the dark. After he died, I pretended he was the one in the centre. The brightest one shining down on me.

  He would have moved heaven and earth to find them. He would have pulled off their balaclavas and killed them stone dead for doing that terrible thing to me. But he’s the one who’s dead and I don’t even have his stars left to remember him by.

  3

  Adele turned each page carefully, stopping when it seemed impossible to continue, yet always returning to those scribbled entries, greedily devouring each word. Her eyes were stinging when she finished. She closed the diary and rubbed her hand over its sleek cover. The floor beneath her seemed unsteady when she stood. Unreliable and capable of pitching her forward if she did not hold onto the wall for support. She had always imagined her mother as an inexperienced fifteen-year-old, stumbling into pregnancy by way of an innocent, reckless passion. Noreen, too, had nurtured this belief with evasiveness and lies. But within those stark pages the truth had been laid bare.

  Adele knew her voice sounded disconnected when she spoke to Daniel on the phone, as if it was being channelled by someone else. She told him she had been forced to cancel her flight and would stay overnight in Crannock. Some problem with house deeds. She was surprised at how easily she lied to him, but then again what she had discovered was too raw to share on a phone call.

  In the immediate aftermath of her grandmother’s death, a burden had lifted from Adele. She had been unaware of its heaviness until her shoulders lightened and she realised she was free to begin a normal life with Daniel. This sense of release had been followed quickly by grief. She had lost the woman who had reared her, the only family she had ever known; but now, having read the entries in Marianne’s diary, this grief was giving way to anger over Noreen’s secretiveness. Her thoughts were chaotic when she lay down to sleep, her cheek resting against her mother’s nightdress. Shadowy figures roamed through her dreams. She awoke gasping, convinced she was being suffocated by a membrane so heavy she was unable to breathe through it. In the morning, she showered with her mother’s soap, a thin lather on her skin, the faint scent still lingering.

  She dressed quickly in shorts and a T-shirt. Another hot day; the warm spell had settled into an uncustomary pattern that showed no sign of changing. She took a mug of coffee outside and sat on the window ledge. In the distance, the brown, jagged outlines of the Ox Mountains wavered in the heat haze. Ox, she had always thought, was a strange, clumsy name for those brooding, granite peaks. Noreen had told her that the name was the result of a mistranslation from the Irish language. If it had been correctly translated into English, the range would be known as the Stormy Mountains. Today, the storm clouds were inside her head and the sun, flitting between bobtail clouds, weaved a filigree of light and shade over the slopes. The bungalow sat alone on a bleak curve of the mountain road. It was her inheritance but Adele had experienced only relief when she sold it. The buyer was an elderly author, intent on writing about the mythological creatures, hags and goddesses associated with the mountains’ glacial lakes. From her vantage point, Adele could see the glisten of one such lake, the icy stillness hiding the turbulence of its folklore.

  Until she was eight years old, she had believed that Marianne had lived her short life in the shadow of the mountain. This belief was shattered when her friend Rihanna told her that Noreen was a ‘Dublin Jackeen.’ That was what Rihanna’s father called her. He said she had only moved to Crannock when Adele was a newborn baby. Astonished to discover that her mother had not played in the same fields as she did, attended the same roadside school or sat in the same shiny pew at mass on Sundays, Adele had pestered her grandmother for more information. Finally, reluctantly, Noreen admitted that she had moved to this isolated hinterland from Reedstown, a village on the north side of Dublin. She had pointed it out to Adele on a map, a smudge of land close to a river, and snapped at her for continuing to ask questions. She could feel a migraine coming on, she’d said. Noreen’s migraines were regular occurrences and had the power to stop all awkward questions.

  Adele had planned to visit Reedstown after she left home but London had swept her into its vortex and the longing had faded to an occasional, whimsical notion that had, until now, always passed.

  4

  The Marianne Diary

  Mam never looked back when she drove away from Reedstown. The jet trail had broken up and was disappearing into the blue sky. Miss Grimes in science told us that that blue is created from molecules of air scattering light. I keep thinking about such a scattering. How it breaks everything apart in ways that can never be fixed… never ever!!!

  All the morning traffic had gone from Main Street and there were just a few people going into mass. I ducked my head when Mam drove past the Garda station in case Sergeant Bale came out. She was holding onto the wheel so tight that her knuckles were ridged like Toblerone. At the traffic lights, she almost crashed into the back of Keith Lewis’s new car. The roof was down and Liam Thornton was in the passenger seat. He’s been staying in Keith’s house since his mam left him again. The children from the national school were going to confession. A big, long crocodile of them and it looked like they were all staring at me. I should be used to that by now but I’m not.

  Mrs Thornton put her bony hands on my forehead after IT happened and said she’d blessed me with the oil of forgiveness. I hate her and I hate the Thorns with their screwed-up faces and mean, ugly lips. They worship a God who doesn’t exist. If he does, I don’t want to know him. He’s the God of fanatics. That’s all they are with their made-up name. Mum says I have to stop calling them Thorns, they’re the Sodality of Thorns and Atonement. Who cares?

  She keeps insisting that Mr Lewis was helping us through this terrible time. How? By buying our house for next to nothing? Big deal. I begged her not to sell. All he wanted is our big long garden. She wouldn’t listen. I’ve shamed her in front of everyone and there’s nothing to do except start again in a new place where no one knows us. She says Mr Lewis is right. I will forget. That’s what time does. Like it’s some kind of magic eraser? She’s SO wrong!! It doesn’t matter how often she tells me I’ll be safe and no one will call me names, I’m scared sick of what lies ahead for me.

  5

  The clenched sensation in Adele’s chest eased a little when she flew into Heathrow Airport and saw Daniel waiting for her in arrivals. His arms reached out to welcome her and guide her through the Underground. Such a cacophony of noise, a Tower of Babel compared to the quiet hinterland she had left. She held his arm tightly as they pushed their way onto the Tube.

  They had met two years previously when she was doing research for Voice Dox. The clean air policies of Greendene Petro, the company where Daniel worked as an environmental engineer, had been the subject of a documentary she intended to make. The interview had lasted longer than necessary and his request for her phone number in case he thought of any further information that would be useful for her research had been a thinly veiled excuse to see her again. She gave it to him willingly. Six months later, she moved into his luxurious two-bed apartment in Nine Elms. His rent was subsidised by Greendene, one of the perks of the job, he told her, cracking open the champagne and toasting their future.

  Shortly afterwards, she brought him to Crannock to meet Noreen. She had been nervous about introducing him, worried that he would be offended by her grandmother’s taciturn personality.

  Four months had passed since Adele’s last visit home and she had been shocked by the change in Noreen’s appearance. Her clothes, stained with food and liquids, hung loosely over her gaunt frame. Food rotted in the fridge and it was evident from her dramatic weight loss that she had stopped cooking for herself. Her mental state wa
s even more alarming. She was frightened of Daniel, unable to remember who he was or why he was in her house. At times, she forgot Adele’s name and called her Marianne. Daniel had returned to London alone and, as Adele suspected, when she persuaded Noreen to visit her doctor, scans revealed that she was suffering from the rapid onset of dementia. A month later, Noreen was admitted to a nursing home and Adele travelled back from London every second weekend to see her.

  Noreen’s outbursts, when she referred to Adele as a slut and a whore, made these visits difficult. Adele tried with photographs and music to bring her back from the abyss but Noreen became mute, as if, at a subconscious level, she knew she could not be trusted to hold her secrets close, as she had done so determinedly throughout her granddaughter’s life. A year after she entered the nursing home, she suffered a catastrophic heart attack and was rushed to hospital. She survived until Adele arrived from London and died in the early hours of the following morning.

  ‘It’s so good to have you back,’ Daniel said when they were seated on the Tube.

  ‘It’s good to be back,’ she said, aware that he was referring not only to the week she had spent sorting out Noreen’s possessions but to the time before then, the Sunday nights when she had returned to him, wan and grief-stricken from witnessing her grandmother’s rapid decline.

  ‘You sounded so distracted over the house deeds,’ he said. ‘Did you manage to sort out the problem?’

  ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’ Perhaps, in the quietness of their apartment, she could relax and speak coherently about her discovery. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he, smiling, slid his hand along the side of her thigh, a gesture invisible to everyone but themselves. Small familiar gestures that she welcomed as they journeyed towards his apartment, where a beef stew was simmering in the slow cooker and would be ready for serving when they arrived.

  They would move to Colorado in September.

  Greendene was taking on a new pipeline project and Daniel would be heading up the environmental team. A five-year contract, he had told Adele, all expenses, including their accommodation, covered. She had been torn between her excitement at the idea of moving and her responsibility towards her grandmother. Now Noreen could no longer hold her back, but the thought of moving to unfamiliar surroundings no longer filled her with anticipation.

  He lit candles when they entered the apartment, and turned on the music. She thought they would tumble to the bed, as they always did when she returned from Ireland, kicking off shoes, unbuttoning, unzipping, greedy and eager for the touch of each other. But this evening, he concentrated on bringing food to the table, a casserole that was as delicious as he had promised. The reason soon became obvious. Their departure date for moving to Colorado had been moved forward.

  ‘It’s all happening much faster than planned,’ he said. ‘Madison wants me in place by next month. I told her it’s very short notice and that I needed to discuss everything with you first. She’s waiting on my answer. You know what she’s like. Today’s information needed yesterday.’ His laughter belied his uneasiness, his gaze sizing up her shocked expression.

  ‘What about my job?’ she asked. ‘I’d planned on having three months to finish the projects I’ve been working on.’

  ‘Can’t someone else take them on? I know it won’t be an easy ask but I want you with me. Madison has contacts in the media. She says you’ll have no problem finding work. If anyone knows how to pull strings, it’s her.’

  Adele had met Madison Fox, the project manager with Greendene, when she came to London on a business trip some months previously. She was a brittle redhead with a commanding voice and a personality to match. Adele didn’t doubt her string-pulling abilities.

  ‘It’s a lot to absorb, Daniel. Too much for me right now.’

  ‘You’re tired. I understand. We can talk about it again tomorrow.’

  ‘No, let’s talk about it now. What if you go on ahead and I follow you?’

  ‘That’s the difficulty,’ he said. ‘The company want the apartment back. One of Greendene’s executives is flying in from the States around the same time as we’re expected to leave. He’ll be moving in here. The removal firm will take care of everything but we need to organise our stuff for them.’ He opened his iPad. ‘Take a look at this. Madison sent on these photos of our new home.’

  The apartment Madison had chosen for them was an Aladdin’s cave. High ceilings, gleaming marble and wooden floors, elegant furnishings, glittering chandeliers and a breathtaking view of city lights; all it needed to make it perfect was Adele’s approval.

  ‘We can be married in Colorado.’ Daniel put the iPad to one side and took her hands in his. ‘We love each other. As long as we have that going for us, the rest will be easy.’

  Her thoughts were in turmoil as she listened to his reassurances. His enthusiasm overwhelmed her. In comparison, her discovery felt like a dulled pain radiating from her with no sense of direction. She winced as his grip tightened and the hard bite of diamonds pressed against her fingers. He could not afford to mess up. He told her so gently, pleadingly, firmly.

  His phone rang. Madison in Colorado. Unable to listen to the one-way exchange, Adele wheeled her case into the bedroom and began to unpack. The curtains were open and from her vantage point she saw him emerge onto the balcony. She watched him gesticulating. His hand language was always faster when he was stressed.

  ‘What did you tell Madison?’ she asked when the call ended.

  ‘That you needed time to get used to the idea.’

  ‘I’d say that went down like a lead balloon.’

  ‘She’s going to ring back tomorrow,’ he admitted. ‘I hate putting pressure on you after all you’ve been through but there’s no reason why we can’t manage it – that’s assuming you want to go with me.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She hadn’t meant to snap but that was how she sounded, tetchy and brusque.

  He drew away from her, his eyes narrowing. ‘There’s something else going on with you. I knew as soon as I saw you in arrivals. Is it the house deeds?’

  ‘I told you I’ve sorted that out. You’ve had time to absorb this news but you’re asking me to drop everything at a moment’s notice and head off to Colorado with you. Why should you or Madison expect me to give you an answer just like that?’ She flung herself back against the pillows. ‘You can be so selfish at times. Nagging at me to come back when I was trying to look after my grandmother―’

  ‘I never nagged. But every second weekend—’ He stopped, aware of the triggers that could start an argument. ‘Come on, Adele, let’s not argue over this. We’ll sleep on it and discuss it again tomorrow.’

  ‘What’s to discuss? You’ve made up your mind.’ She wanted to fight with him. To kick the door and fling things on the floor, smash her fists against the walls. Anything to silence the voice in her head, the earworm – so long Marianne… She pulled away from him and ran from the bedroom.

  ‘Just leave me alone and let me sort out my own mind,’ she shouted as she slammed the door behind her.

  She sat on the window seat in the living room, the lamp angled so that as much light as possible flowed over the pages of the diary. She had read it a number of times already. On each reading she found something new, even though some of the entries rambled into incoherence as her young mother tried to make sense of her situation. How could Daniel hope to understand her confusion about her past when his face was set to his own future, his mind made up?

  6

  The Marianne Diary

  Mam drove for hours before we reached Inisada. It’s just a few houses and shops and pubs and then we were out in the country again with nothing but cows and sheep. We came to these huge gates. They were open, like we were expected. I thought it was a hotel when I saw a house with the big steps leading to the front door. But it’s not a hotel. It’s called the House of Atonement and it’s where I have to stay until my baby is born.

  A woman in a navy cardigan an
d skirt was waiting for us at the top of the steps. I only realised she was a Thorn when I got close up and saw the crown of thorns engraved on the medallion around her neck. Then it all made sense. My legs were like jelly so I wasn’t able to run. Not that I would have got far. Mam was holding my arm, the way she does when she wants me to stand still and listen to her. I cried then and tried to pull away from her. The woman, she’s called Miss Bethany, took my other arm, not hard like the way Mam was holding me, just firm in a stop-your-silly-nonsense way.

  The hall smelled of polish and fish. Disgusting. We went into an office.

  Mother Gloria, Superior Counsellor

  was written across the door. I couldn’t believe it. Liam Thornton’s crazy mother owns this place and I have to call her Mother Gloria.

  She talked to Mam about visiting times and things I could do, and not do, and how I would be treated with kindness and understanding. I didn’t believe her. I still don’t. Mam has dumped me here whether I like it or not. She was crying when she left me but crocodile tears won’t change anything. I’m so frightened. What if I never get out of here? If I never see Shane again? If this is my life from now on? Oh God, is this it? Find me Shane… please find me and take me away from this awful house.