A Suitable Lie

by Michael J Malone

  That series of events just couldn’t be allowed to happen. There had to be a way out of this mess. What terrified me most was that I would eventually snap and murder would be the result.

  Sheila couldn’t do enough for me that week. She brought me morning snacks, lunch and dinner, made sure the kettle was never empty and continuously asked how I was. My resolve to keep a safe distance between us dissolved under this barrage of solicitude and I found myself anticipating her next kindness, waiting for it like a pup waits for its ear to be scratched.

  Each evening we would work until eight or nine then return to the hotel. Sheila would invite me to the bar for a nightcap, and, torn, I would refuse. The idea of sitting at the bar nursing a whisky and chatting with her was just too delicious to contemplate; besides, I knew if I wasn’t back in my room to take Anna’s phone call, the consequence would be severe.

  The first phone call, on the Monday night, was surreal. No mention was made of my violence the night before; instead Anna talked about the boys, how much fun they’d had that day, how Ryan was starting to ask for the potty at last. While one half of my mind enjoyed the thought of the boys having fun, the other was bracing itself for the aural onslaught. It didn’t happen.

  Tuesday night, an almost identical talk took place. My nerves were in shreds as I waited for an outburst. Nothing. Wednesday’s conversation was the same, until just before she hung up.

  ‘Oh, by the way, I registered a complaint with the police today. They’ll be waiting for you at the airport on Friday. I’m going to bed now. Don’t call me back.’

  Stunned, I sat on the edge of my hotel bed for what seemed hours with the phone up at my ear. Eventually the insistent tone made me put it back on its cradle. Oh my god, the police. What would they do? They would never believe that Anna had struck first. I was already healing. She’d probably enhanced her bruises with a little purple make-up. They’d take the boys away from me. I’d lose my job, my house.

  Why the hell did you hit her, Boyd? You’ve lost everything.

  Sleep was a stranger that night as dire scenarios filled my mind. I made it in to the office the next day, dim with fatigue and grey with worry. Sheila, sensing that I was not really present, kept her distance. The hours passed in a blur of figures and files. I probably made enough errors that day to ruin our work of the previous two and a half weeks. At six o‘clock, I threw my pen across the desk.

  ‘I’ve had enough,’ I stated. I needed to get out of this building. I needed to drown the voices in my head with as much alcohol as possible.

  ‘Do you want to go for something to eat?’ asked Sheila.

  ‘I’m going to the pub.’

  Walking down the hill from the bank, I entered the first licensed premises I saw.

  ‘A large whisky,’ I demanded of the barman and took a stool at the bar. Alcohol would numb my brain, stop the march of destructive thought. Three doubles later I was still in a fog of worry.

  ‘Fuck.’ I slammed the glass on the bar and held my head in my hands.

  ‘Could I ask you to mind your language, sir?’ the barman said firmly but politely.

  I grunted an apology. Looking around me for the first time since I entered, I noticed the place was all but empty. A couple sat in the far corner as if they had nothing left to say to one another and their only shared pleasure was booze. A small, thin man sat in the middle of the room toying with a cigarette. There was no sign of a lighter, he simply turned the cigarette end over end with his fingers. To my right sat another man, his head sunk into his shoulders. His face was lined and all sharp angles, his eyes dark caves. He looked like a man at the end of his road. He wore a tie the same as mine. It looked as if it could easily swing around to form a noose. He looked like me. I sipped at my drink, so did he.

  I was looking into a mirror.

  The stranger beside me had my sympathy before I knew who he was. Could I sympathise with myself? What mistake had I made other than to love the wrong woman? Was it really my fault, the violence? Had I really jumped willingly into the whole mess or had it sneaked up on me while I was simply trying to be happy? Overriding all of this was the image of me on my knees with a knife at my neck and my dick in my hand. Humiliation pushed its way to the front of the throng of confusion in my mind.

  How could I get out? How could I leave this situation with my sanity and with my two boys? If I divorced Anna, she would see to it that I never saw the boys again. She would twist the facts and end up twisting my boys. But, I couldn’t stay with her. All I could think of was murder.

  The first person the police suspect is always the husband or boyfriend. I would never get away with it and the boys would end up in care, knowing that their father was a murderer. No, murder wasn’t a solution.

  Unless I made it look like a convincing accident.

  Anna didn’t drive so that ruled out tampering with the brakes. Poison would leave trace evidence.

  For chrissake, Boyd, I thought. Get a grip of yourself. You’re actually sitting here contemplating murder.

  ‘Another double, barman.’

  ‘You sure you’ve not had enough, sir?’

  ‘I’ll decide when I’ve had enough, you officious little prick.’ I laughed when the word officious blurred into something nonsensical. ‘That’s easy for me to say.’

  At the sound of my laughter the barman relaxed slightly, obviously experienced, he quickly calculated my menace factor and considered it not worth his concern.

  ‘Just get me a drink will you?’ I said. When I saw the couple in the corner ease out of the room I realised I’d said that louder than I intended.

  ‘No chance, pal. If you’re not out of here in five seconds the police’ll see to you.’

  ‘The police, bunch of wasters…’ I felt a tug at my sleeve. ‘What good are they? Bunch of lazy…’ My sleeve was being pulled and someone was calling my name. I looked around. It was Sheila. I calmed down instantly.

  ‘C’mon you,’ she said, ‘I’m taking you out of here.’

  More than anything, it was the look of pity in her eyes that drew the anger out of me. ‘Sorry, Sheila. I was just about to make an arse of myself…’

  ‘It’s time you were back at the hotel.’ She led me to the door and out into the street.

  At the front door, the cool air had me shivering. ‘Sheila, you’re a darling, but if you think I’m going back to the hotel then you’re sadly mistaken. I’m going to drink myself into a stupor.’

  ‘Well, I’d better make sure that you don’t come to any harm. I’m coming with you.’

  ‘Won’t be a pretty sight.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Andy. I’ve seen it all before. Right, where are we going?’ She stood with her hands on her hips. Nothing I could say would dissuade her.

  ‘Okay,’ I laughed. ‘You’re on. But you better be joining in. I hate drinking on my own.’

  ‘I can see that. You’re awful shy, aren’t you?’ We both laughed.

  Sheila ordered a round at the first bar we entered. It was only marginally busier than the one we’d just left. The barman, while looking every inch the local, had an Australian accent. He placed my pint on a brass-coloured spill-tray.

  ‘Get your laughing gear round that, mate.’ He grinned.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ His grin was infectious. I could hardly believe that only minutes ago I was about to get into one with a different barman. Sheila was clearly good for me. We choose a table and sat down.

  ‘Thanks for calming things down earlier on, Sheila. I really was about to lose it,’ I said, feeling my face heat with shame.

  ‘Why?’ She took a sip. She’d ordered a pint as well. ‘What did that poor guy do to you?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘He laughed at me,’ I answered as honestly as I could without going into too much detail. ‘And I do not need someone laughing at me at this point.’

  ‘Andy’ Sheila’s face was creased with concern, ‘what�
��s happening to you these days? You’re not the Andy Boyd I know.’ She stopped talking, looking as if she’d said more than she planned.

  ‘And…’

  ‘No. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘I’d really like to know what you think.’ I found it easier to let other people do the talking. If there was too much silence, I might say too much.

  ‘Okay.’ She took a long drink and set her glass to the side. ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight. You look gaunt. You always look as if you’re ready for bed. You’ve let things slip back in Ayr.’ She looked deep into my eyes. ‘You know that there were complaints not long ago.’

  ‘Aye, and I’ve sorted things out.’

  ‘Have you, Andy? I wasn’t going to say anything, but I feel it’s not fair.’

  ‘What isn’t?’ Acid bit at my stomach lining as I registered her tone and her expression. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘There was another reason why you were chosen to come here…’

  ‘To get me out of the way?’

  ‘Yes. They wanted to look into what’s happening in Ayr and thought it best to get you out of the road. This Campbeltown thing gave them the perfect excuse.’

  ‘Bet it was that bastard Roy’s idea. What’s your involvement in all of this?’ I demanded.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not their spy. You did need help over here and I was the right woman for the job. Nothing more devious than that.

  Believe me Andy, I’m not here to set you up.’

  ‘Bastards.’ I slammed my glass down on the table.

  ‘You all right, mate?’ the barman shouted over.

  ‘Piss off, mate,’ I said.

  ‘We’re fine thanks.’ Sheila drowned me out and grimaced. ‘Keep it cool, Andy. You don’t want to get chucked out of two places on the one night.’

  ‘I can’t take any more.’ I stood up. ‘I can’t take any more.’ I fought for breath.

  ‘Andy sit down.’ Sheila looked up at me. ‘Tell me what’s going on. What can’t you take?’

  ‘Anything, the whole fucking world’s out to get me. First my wife, then my colleagues … and then you,’ I spat. In a deep corner of my brain, I knew that Sheila wasn’t complicit in any of this, but I needed to lash out and she was conveniently placed.

  ‘Andy, I told you, I’ve nothing to do with any of this.’

  ‘Yeah, fucking right. You’re just as bad as the rest of them. I thought you were special, Sheila. But you’re as poisonous as they are.’ Months of ingested bile threatened to spill over onto the surface. The barman walked over to us.

  ‘Is everything all right, folks?’

  ‘Fuck off, you Aussie twat.’

  ‘Andy.’ Sheila stood up.

  ‘Right sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave.’

  The barman gripped my arm. He shouldn’t have done that. I reacted quicker than I could have believed. My fist exploded into his jaw. I couldn’t hit a woman, but I could happily hit a man.

  The trouble was, once started, I didn’t know if I could stop.

  9

  The police cell was just what I imagined it would be like. Small, cold and sparse. The thin blanket I was given provided barely any heat, the insubstantial mattress little cushion. Sleep was some distance away for the whole of the night. This gave me more time to think than I needed. The events of the day before reeled through my head: the insults I threw at the barman; the locals in the bar jumping on top of me to calm me down; Sheila’s face wide-mouthed with shock. The soundtrack to this movie was my own voice. A scream that seemed to go on and on.

  When the police arrived, I was exhausted. I had barely enough energy to hold my hands out for the cuffs. They decided that, although I had calmed down, based on what everyone was telling them, I needed to spend a night in a cell. Make sure I sobered up before I did some harm.

  The cell door opened and a policeman walked in carrying a tray.

  ‘Here’s your breakfast, big guy. Bacon roll and a mug of hot tea.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I muttered. I was having trouble accepting I had acted so badly that I had been locked up. I’d never been involved with the police before. I’d never had so much as a parking ticket. Where was my shame going to end? Standing up and walking over to accept the tray, I noticed my trouser belt had gone and my shoes had no laces. The policeman followed my gaze to my feet.

  ‘Do you not remember we took them off you last night? To save you from hanging yourself.’

  ‘With a pair of shoe laces?’

  ‘We get some pretty determined people in here.’

  I digested that. ‘When do I get out?’

  ‘Don’t know. Someone will be along to speak to you shortly. Your fingerprints were taken last night along with your statement,’ I couldn’t remember this, ‘so you should be able to get out sharpish.’ The tea was sweet and strong, but the thought of the bacon roll was too much. With both hands nursing the mug, I sat down on the bed and leaned against the wall. What kind of a mess have you got yourself into now, Boyd? I hoped the barman was okay and that I hadn’t roughed up any of the locals. The bank would not be happy. Anna would not be happy. I hoped Sheila was still talking to me.

  I received confirmation of this shortly after seven a.m. The day shift wanted to clean out the cells and Sheila, unable to sleep, had arrived first thing to make sure that I had done nothing else.

  Feeling like a wayward teenager, I walked over to where she was sitting in the reception area.

  ‘You okay?’ Concern was evident in her face. It was quickly quashed when she could see that I was still in one piece.

  ‘Listen, Sheila. I am so sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.’

  ‘I suspect you do know, Andy. But if you don’t want to talk about it…’

  ‘Let’s get out of here.’ I walked briskly to the door. ‘I don’t want to spend another moment in here.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful morning. We’ll walk back to the hotel and you can freshen up.’

  We walked most of the way in silence. The early-morning light show promised much for the day ahead, but the sea breeze held a chill. Our heels clipping the pavement sounded out a regular rhythm beneath the staccato cries of the gulls wheeling overhead.

  ‘Thanks for coming to meet me.’ I broke the silence just as the hotel came into view.

  ‘No problem. I had to make sure you were okay. So I could report back to Regional Office,’ Sheila replied.

  I shrunk further in size. I must have really hurt her.

  ‘Sheila, I didn’t mean what I said. I was just angry and you were…’

  ‘Convenient?’ Her expression was conflicted. She wanted to show she was on my side and yet she also wanted me to know that she no longer put up with anyone’s shit.

  ‘Sheila, I am so sorry.’ I stopped walking and held her hand, forcing her to stop. Her eyes were as cool as the breeze.

  ‘Okay, you’ve apologised. Can we go now, I’m freezing.’

  ‘Sheila, listen to me. I really am so sorry. You are the one person in my life right now who I can talk to, so please don’t shut me out.’

  ‘The one person you can talk to? If this is you talking, I would hate to see you mute.’

  ‘Okay, maybe I can’t talk to you either, but I enjoy your company. You make me feel … good.’

  I was saying too much. While lying awake in the police cell, I had examined my feelings for Sheila and found that they had not lessened. I had prayed that hers was the first face I saw on my release. But I couldn’t admit to this. Complications of that sort were dangerous, possibly for both of us. Who knew what Anna was capable of once she warmed up?

  ‘How can I convince you that I’m sorry?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Sheila held a finger to the corner of her mouth. What I would have given for the freedom to bend forward and kiss her right where her finger was pressing. ‘Kiss my feet.’

  ‘Okay. Madam’s wish is my command.’ I knelt down and leaned over as if to do as she asked.

 
‘Get up you big lump.’ She giggled and pulled ineffectively at my upper arm. I continued to aim my mouth at her feet. ‘Okay, okay,’ she laughed. ‘You’re forgiven. Get over to that hotel and get yourself a wash.’

  As I drove home that night from the airport there were two things on my mind. The first was Anna. What had she said to the police? And what would they do about it? Also, she would have phoned the hotel at just about the time I was punching a barman. Her imagination would apply a different set of circumstances to her unanswered phone call. This time, however, the truth was just so outlandish that she would believe it.

  The second thing on my mind was Sheila. Frightened as I was of Anna and what her reaction might be, Sheila’s smile as I pretended to kiss her feet was there in my mind, like a small window tucked in the corner of a computer screen. I would just have to wait until Monday before I spoke to her again.

  I would have to work out what was going on here. Did I have genuine feeling for Sheila? Or was this a case of transferring my affections onto someone who seemed to care about me? She was at the police station as I came out, so she must, at least, like me. Then the picture of me as I sat in the first pub came to mind. My defeated reflection staring back at me. What woman would be attracted to that? She would only laugh at me. There was no point even contemplating an affair with her in any case, because if Anna found out, someone, probably me, would end up hurt.

  The boys bowled me over as soon as I entered the house. They’d been sitting by the window waiting for my return. Was it my imagination or were they more than just pleased to see me? I briefly considered each homecoming over the past few weeks. Each of them resulted in a similar display. I mentally shrugged off my concern as paranoia. Anna adored the boys. I was the focus of her aggression, not them.

  She was standing by the kitchen door in her apron. She had pinned her hair up but locks here and there defied the clip. One eye was partially obscured and at the other side a long, thick strand decorated her shoulder. She was lovely. I searched her expression for a clue as to how I should behave. It was blank.