A Suitable Lie

by Michael J Malone

  Anna sent me a quick smile of thanks.

  I looked at my watch, ‘Pat, I think it’s time you had your bath.’

  ‘Daaad.’ He managed to make such a small word last a long time.

  ‘Come on, son. It’s getting late and you know that you usually have your bath before now.’

  ‘Do you want me to do it? You two could do with a wee break,’ Mum offered. This was less about us needing a break – we were just back after all – than Mum’s reluctance to give up her time with Pat.

  ‘No, no,’ said Anna with a tired smile. ‘You guys get off home, I’ll see to Pat. Got to get into the routine of everyday life. The honeymoon is definitely over.’

  ‘Very wise,’ said Mum. ‘Right.’ She slowly reached for her handbag. ‘I’ll be off. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’

  I was pleased to hear it. Jim and I were both concerned that she didn’t have enough in her life.

  ‘Oh, what are you up to then?’ I asked.

  ‘You know,’ she answered vaguely, ‘this and that.’

  ‘Is that horny old goat next door taking you out somewhere, Mum?’

  ‘Jim.’ I said, ‘Not in front of Pat.’

  ‘No harm done.’ Jim ruffled Pat’s hair.

  Pat in turn stood up and bringing each hand up to the side of his head with only the index finger sticking up, he butted Jim’s belly.

  ‘Mr Henderson’s got horns he wants to stick into Gran.’

  Trying to look sternly at Jim while stifling a laugh and at the same time hoping to give Pat the impression that he had said nothing out of the ordinary, I succeeded only in looking constipated.

  Anna came to the rescue. ‘Right, bath, young man.’.

  Pat ran to his Gran and gave her a kiss. ‘Night, night, Gran. Love you.’

  My mother looked as if she was about to cry.

  ‘See ye, pal,’ Jim walked over and tweaked his nose. He looked back at me. ‘I’ll give you a phone, Andy. We’ll go out for a drink, eh?’

  With Pat’s happy chatter interspersed with Anna’s singsong voice floating downstairs from the bathroom I washed and put away the cups. Then, enjoying the solitude, I sat on the settee with an ear on the two most important people in my life. I smiled. I was delighted to hear them clowning around together. Pat had a highly developed sense of fun and it was a joy to watch him play with the water. This was a sure way for the two of them to connect, so I decided to stay where I was and let them get on with it.

  I sat forward in my chair. The laughter and splashes had stopped. Then I heard a sharp tone from Anna and an answering wail from Pat.

  I was up the stairs three at a time.

  ‘What the…?’ I said as I ran into the bathroom. Anna was on her knees at the side of the bath with her hair soaking and Pat was sitting in the bath with a look of abject shame on his face.

  ‘The wee bugger soaked my hair,’ Anna said, standing up, her face heavy with tiredness and irritation.

  But she immediately seemed to regret her tone. She sank into her haunches. ‘I’m so sorry, Pat. You took me by surprise that’s all.’

  Pat’s got to his feet. His bottom lip was sticking out and was on full tremble.

  ‘Forgive me for being a bad girl?’ Anna said, holding out her hands. ‘Hug?’

  ‘Yeah, she didn’t mean it, son,’ I said, picked up a towel and plucked him out of the water.

  ‘I’ve got this, Andy,’ Anna said. Now it was her turn to look huffy.

  ‘It’s alright,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you go down and make us a coffee. I’ll be down shortly.’

  ‘Andy…’ Anna said with a look of disappointment on her face.

  Pat was sitting up in my arm looking from one of us to the other. He wasn’t sure who he should be looking to for guidance. Then, giving up, he lay his head on my shoulder.

  ‘We were fine, Andy. You don’t need…’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘Sorry. I just…’ Pat was mine, my responsibility and seeing Anna on the point of disciplining my son brought out a reaction that completely surprised me. If Anna was to be his new mum, she had to be able to have a part in that side of his life as well. I sent her a look of apology. ‘Won’t happen again.’

  ‘I’ll stick the kettle on,’ said Anna.

  She pushed herself to her feet and as she walked past me, she ruffled Pat’s head, offered him a look of apology and then looked at me. Her look said, you have to let me in.

  The three of us. That’s our family now.

  ‘Anna…’ I began. But she was out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

  I dried Pat and helped him into his pyjamas. Then I put him to bed and read him a story.

  ‘You okay, son?’

  A small nod. Anna had never spoken to him with any edge and it looked like he was trying to make sense of it.

  ‘Anna’s just not used to little boys. She still wants to be your friend,’ I smoothed the hair down on the top of his head. After drying it I had forgotten to brush it and it was sticking up all over the place. ‘Okay?’

  This time I received a quiet ‘’kay’ in response.

  Downstairs Anna was curled up in a chair. ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s fine.’ Pause. ‘Thought you were making the tea?’

  She stuck her tongue out and I knew we were fine. ‘What did your last slave die of?’ she asked.

  It seemed like hours before I got to sleep, the evening’s events revolving around my head. I couldn’t bear to see any distance open up between Pat and Anna, and prayed that the little scene in the bathroom would be quickly forgotten by them both.

  Sleep must have eventually claimed me, because I was awakened abruptly by several blows to my head.

  ‘What the….?’ I grabbed the arms of my assailant. It was Anna.

  ‘Anna, what the hell…?’ I pushed her off me, sat up in the bed and switched on a lamp. Anna was crouched at my feet, her small frame heaving with fright as she forced air into her lungs.

  ‘What the…?’ She rubbed at her eyes as if just coming out of a deep sleep. ‘Why did you…’ She looked around herself. ‘How did I end up at the bottom of the bed?’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ I said. ‘That was some nightmare you were having.’ I edged down the bed towards her. ‘You woke me up with a punch. You were hitting me in your sleep.’

  ‘I what? I did what?’ she asked, her eyes large with shock.

  ‘Bloody hell, Anna. What got into you?’ My irritation evaporated. She looked so small and scared I could do nothing but hold her. Folding her in my arms, I lay back down on the bed and rocked her as she chanted a mantra of apology.

  Pat’s tousled head popped in the door.

  ‘Daddy, what’s wrong with Anna?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing, son.’

  ‘Dad, why’s she crying?’ he continued.

  ‘Pat, just go back to your bed, now, son.’ I spoke through clenched teeth and instantly prayed that I could reel back the words and kill the tone. I rarely spoke to him like that. Even in the dark I could make out his bowed head as he turned and shuffled back to his room.

  9

  I awoke to the sensation that every nerve end in my groin was being charged. Something warm and wet was teasing every piece of skin. My first thought was that Pat might come in and wonder about the large bump at my waist and ask where Anna was.

  ‘What about Pat?’ I managed to squeak.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s fast asleep,’ was the muffled reply. I was amazed; judging by the light that filtered through the curtains it must have been fairly late. Since Pat was born he had been an early riser, any time between six and seven o’clock being the norm.

  All thoughts of my son were driven from my head by the insistent tongue, lips and hands that were building up a maddening rhythm. As I began to tighten, this beat lessened and stopped altogether and when my breathing had slowed, started up again. Anna did this several times, kissing, squeezing and pulling me to the peak before letting me fall back down again. Even
tually, it became too much and I begged for release.

  ‘Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,’ I moaned.

  Mercifully, Anna did as I asked and her rhythm took on an urgency that had me tumbling over the other side. And in an explosion of dancing nerve ends, I yelled out aloud.

  ‘Dad?’ We heard a small voice, the drum of his feet on the landing and then he appeared at the foot of the bed.

  ‘It’s okay son,’ I laughed, thankful that he had delayed his entrance. A few moments earlier and it would have been red faces all round. I made a mental note, perhaps it’s time to get a lock for our bedroom door.

  Anna kissed me on the lips.

  ‘Good morning, big boy,’ she whispered.

  ‘Dad, Dad, can I go down and watch The Lion King?’ pleaded Pat. In the mood that I was in, he could have asked for permission to play with an open razor and I wouldn’t have refused him.

  ‘Of course you can, son. I’ll just have a quick shower and then I’ll make you some breakfast.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ said Anna. ‘You have a long soak in the shower and I’ll make us all a fry-up.’

  ‘I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven,’ I said as I returned her kiss.

  I put my hands behind my head and watched as my new wife slipped out of the bed and into a figure-hugging robe. I thought I couldn’t be happier. But, as the endorphins slowly drained from my body, I became aware of a faint ache on my temple, and the events of the night returned.

  ‘One second, Anna,’ I said just before she opened the door. ‘Can we talk about something?’

  ‘What about?’ she appeared mystified.

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘What about last night?’ her tone darkened.

  ‘Last night when I woke up to you playing the drums, with my head as the drum and your fists as the drumsticks.’ I offered her a chuckle, to show it wasn’t a big issue.

  ‘I’m sorry, honey. That’s never happened to me before.’ She made an apologetic face. ‘And anyway …’ big smile. ‘… didn’t I just show your how contrite I was?’

  After breakfast, I changed Pat out of his pyjamas and into his clothes, while Anna went upstairs to shower and dress.

  In little time Anna was ready to go out. As she zipped up Pat’s jacket and checked the laces on his shoes, I allowed the attention she paid my son to deepen and widen my love for her. Last night was weird, but it was a one-off. She was under a lot of stress – joining a new family when her own had been a trial. Not that I knew much about her people; none of them were invited to the wedding and any questions about them were always met with an unnerving quiet.

  10

  The first day back at the office after my honeymoon I sat at my small, neat desk and one by one I ripped pages from my small calendar to bring myself up to date. October the sixth we were in Florence, I remembered. On the seventh we were in Rome. Ah well, I thought and ripped the remainder of the week in one go. Did the holiday really happen just last week?

  The four other people I shared the office with all had their heads down and were quickly getting into their day’s work. Beyond them a grey sky barely lit the day, the clouds leaching any heat from the sun. What would I give to be back in Barcelona? Fingering my wedding ring, I turned my attention back to my desk and to the pile of brown in my mail tray.

  ‘God, another rainforest cut down just to give me a load of grief,’ I said to no one in particular.

  ‘Hello the groom,’ a head peered in the door, ‘… and he’s talking to himself already.’

  ‘Hey Malcolm. How’s it going?’

  ‘No bad,’ he answered, hugging the doorway. ‘How was the honeymoon, then?’

  ‘Oh, you know, wonderful,’ I said. Everyone in the room looked over at me with varying levels of leer.

  ‘For chrissake, we’re not teenagers, we did manage to leave our cabin,’ I said, mock-sternly. ‘At least for five minutes a day,’ I laughed. ‘And can we get off the subject of my sex life?’

  ‘You’re the one doing all the talking, Andy,’ said Jim Dick, one of our business relationship managers, from the other side of the room.

  ‘Andy, I need a word with you,’ said Malcolm. For the first time I wondered why he hadn’t fully entered the room.

  ‘Right, okay. Just now?’

  He nodded, barely making eye contact.

  ‘Coffee machine?’

  ‘Lead the way.’

  A coffee machine had been installed just down the corridor from my office and there was a small interview room beside it. Hands warmed by the plastic cups that seemed to be melting as we held them, we each took a seat in the interview room.

  ‘I just want you to know it wasn’t me,’ he said.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Before this whole sorry mess breaks out. I want you to know it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t steal and you know how my face doesn’t fit. Old Campbell’s the Operations Manager now and he’s always had it in for me.’ The Operations Manager was responsible for the area’s staffing and resources, this included disciplinary matters.

  ‘Malcolm, take a deep breath, speak slowly and tell me what the hell you are on about.’

  Holding the cup in both hands and looking as if he would rather sit on top of a lit Bunsen burner than drink from it, Malcolm fortified himself with a deep breath.

  ‘There was a cash difference last week. We checked everything and couldn’t find anything.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘One thousand pounds. Short.’

  ‘Oh.’ Serious stuff. ‘Did you check all of the cabinets in the safe, and down the back of all the drawers?’

  ‘Yes.’ His tone was heavy. It asked, do you think I’m an idiot?

  Malcolm and I had begun working for the bank in the same week fifteen years before. One month later we were on the cash together and fifty thousand pounds went missing. It was later found in a cupboard that the Head Teller had somehow forgotten to count.

  ‘Right, let’s not panic,’ I said. ‘Have all the day’s slips been checked?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have all the pay-ins been double-checked?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Was the remittance to the Post Office checked?’ We supplied the local GPO with its float.

  ‘Yes, Andy. I am the Head Teller now. I do know how to do my job.’ The eyes that could make most of the girls in the office swoon, flared at me.

  ‘Just checking, Malcolm. I’m going to get asked all of this by Head Office. I need to know for myself.’

  ‘Sheila checked the cash on Friday.’ Sheila stood in for me whenever I was off work.

  ‘I’ll need to do it for myself.’

  ‘Fine, fair enough,’ agreed Malcolm.

  Something niggled at me. Why was Malcolm taking it so personally? We’d had cash differences before. Maybe not as big as this one, though. As we left the room and walked towards the area where the cash was held I stopped and gripped his arm.

  ‘Is there something else?’

  ‘Something else? What do you mean?’ He looked at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but at me.

  ‘Is there anything else I should know?’

  ‘Oh, brilliant. You think it was me, don’t you?’

  ‘No, I don’t, Malcolm.’ I didn’t. ‘But you’ve had differences before and you’ve never behaved like this.’

  He stood for a moment as if a debate was raging in his mind.

  ‘Right, not here. In the business cash safe.’

  In silence we walked to the safe. Malcolm inserted a key in the top lock from a bunch that he held in his hand and I inserted a key in the bottom lock. Once inside Malcolm opened a cupboard and acted as if he was counting the contents.

  ‘There has been more than one difference over the last few months,’ he said from the side of his mouth.

  ‘How much?’ I was beginning to worry now.

  ‘About ten thousand in total.’

  ‘Ten thousand?’ I shouted.

  ‘Ssshh.’ Malcol
m faced me.

  ‘But how, why hasn’t this come to our attention?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Over how long, would you say?’ I had taken over as Branch Manager two months before.

  ‘About nine months.’

  ‘Steve Munro didn’t do anything about it?’ Munro was my predecessor. It was obvious from the work that I had had to do when I started the job that he had been on a long wind-down to retirement. This, however, wasn’t just neglect; this was criminal.

  ‘No. From the looks of it there is no pattern and they were all for small amounts; and different amounts.’

  ‘There must have been a number of them to amount to a further nine thousand pounds.’

  He shrugged in response.

  I rubbed at my eyes. There was going to be one almighty stink. The inspectors would have to be called. There would be an investigation. Not a nice atmosphere to be working in; everyone looking at their neighbour wondering if they were a thief.

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let’s get this into perspective. There has been a series of shortages in the cash, amounting to around ten thousand pounds.’ Saying it out-loud made it seem worse. ‘Nobody died.’ I finished weakly.

  ‘I will.’ Malcolm said, leaning against the cupboard with his head thrown back. I was hypnotised by his Adam’s apple sliding up and down as he continued to speak. ‘Once Campbell hears about this. I’m dead.’

  ‘Roy isn’t so bad once you get to know him.’

  ‘He’s an arsehole and you know it.’ His tone accused me of being a sell-out. I would have agreed with him before I was promoted.

  ‘Mmm.’ I tried to maintain a diplomatic, managerial silence.

  ‘So I thought I’d speak to you, Andy. Let you know before Campbell tried to sack me.’

  I looked at his handsome features, contorted with worry. There was still that niggle worming its way through my brain. He was simply taking it too personally.