‘James, surely you can tell Roger to bring him in for questioning about the affair from that information?’
‘What affair? I need more than a dream and a snide comment about flirting before I can go to the guards with this one.’ James said.
‘We’re no further along.’ Sarah said with a sigh, feeling deflated again.
‘I wouldn’t say that, sis.’ James answered. ‘In less than twenty-four hours we now know the name of the guy in your dream. We also know where he lives and a little bit more about him. If he’s the guy who murdered Rachel, we’ll get him. We just need to do a bit more digging first.’
Sarah tried for hours to go to sleep after James left, but just couldn’t stop thinking about Paul, the children, Rachel Finch and now Mal too. Her head was just ready to burst with everything as her mind flitted from one thing to the next. She finally drifted off to sleep about 2am, knowing that she only had a few hours before she had to be up again.
However, once again her sleep had been disturbed, when she dreamt about Mal and Marie.
Marie looks out her bedroom window, watching the lights of her husband’s jeep pull into their yard. She sees him take something out of the boot and head into the barn. Marie runs downstairs and throws on one of Mal’s work jackets and a pair of old wellies, then she walks to the barn. As she opens the door she sees him put a piece of wood onto the log pile.
‘What are you doing?’ she shouts causing him to jump at the sound of her voice.
‘Sorting out kindling to keep you warm for the winter, you stupid woman!’
‘But it’s three in the morning for goodness sake!’ she exclaims. ‘Where have you been till now?’
‘I’ve been out. That’s all you need to know.’
‘Why are you being like this, there’s no need to be so rude? You said you were going to see someone about selling some cattle and you’d be home in an hour or two. That was at seven o’clock this evening! You wouldn’t answer your phone; I didn’t know what to think.’
Her husband is never at home these days, out all night at least four or five times a week.
‘I told you where I was going. Stop your bloody nagging. Have you ever thought that maybe I’m tired? I’ve been working all the hours that God made just to keep this farm going. Have you thought about that, woman? Nag, nag, nag. You’d drive a man to drink.’ He bellows at her. With that he storms out of the barn and walks towards the house leaving Marie to trail behind him, close to tears.
When they get to the house Marie notices something on their carpet. What was it that Mal was dragging into their house? It looks like sand from the soles of his shoes. That just didn’t make any sense. But she is afraid to ask him about it. She is still reeling from the accusations of nagging. Maybe she is on at him too much. She’d just hoover the mess up in the morning and say no more about it. She’d also make a huge effort not to nag any more. It wasn’t fair on Mal. She’d try harder to be a better wife.
Sarah had woken up hearing her alarm going off and the first thing she thought of was the beach. Then it started to come back to her. He had sand on the soles of his shoes! So she grabbed her journal and scribbled down every detail she could remember. She’d ring James later. She remembered the feeling of desperation that radiated from Marie. She was a woman who knew she was losing her husband and she was desperately trying to hold onto him. Sarah felt so sorry for her and then her mind went to her own marriage. What was she going to have to do to save her own marriage later today? Maybe Marie and she had more in common than she first thought.
The sound of the PA system stated fifteen minutes to landing and snapped Sarah back to reality. She finished her coffee quickly, handing the empty cup to the hostess. She was going to put Mal, Rachel and Marie out of her mind. She had to focus on her own marriage. In a few hours she’d be confronting the man who’d run away from her and their children. This was the man that a couple of months ago she would have sworn she loved with all her heart. They had been married for ten years, together since Sarah was eighteen. Paul was her first and only love and she couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. It was just so confusing, because right now she wasn’t sure if she even liked him, never mind loved him.
Before long she felt the thud of the aircraft as it bounced onto the tarmac runway at Heathrow. She watched in amusement as the hostess tried unsuccessfully to get everyone to stay buckled in their seats, until the plane actually stopped. One guy stood up as the aircraft was still taxiing down the runway, opening the overhead bin, trying to pull down his bag. Where did he think he was going, she wondered? The hostess was walking towards him with major irritation on her face as she demanded he sit down immediately. As soon as the plane stopped everyone was up and out of their seats and standing in the aisles waiting impatiently for the doors to open. Sarah stayed seated. There was nothing she hated more than to be squeezed up close between strangers in the aisle of an aeroplane, just to save a few meagre seconds on her arrival time.
Successfully getting through arrivals and customs, Sarah followed the signs for the underground. Reading the map was tricky, as it resembled a science project at first glance! But before long she had worked out that each line on the tube was colour coded. She needed to change at Earl’s Court and then get out at Victoria. Her hotel was a few minutes’ walk from the station, according to Google maps and Paul’s office about a five minutes’ walk from there. She was soon sitting in a carriage, the whole process relatively pain-free. She found it fascinating people-watching. Everyone kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact with their fellow travellers, many reading the free paper or a book. Practically everyone had an iPod on and was clasping their luggage between their legs as the train trundled along.
She realised she had arrived at Victoria Station and Sarah could not believe the sheer size of it. It was the biggest station she’d ever been in. Oscar Wilde popped into her head as she navigated her way around, looking for the correct exit. She had always loved English in school and had studied The Importance of Being Earnest. The title character had been found as an infant in a handbag in Victoria station.
As the station was so big, that meant that there were hundreds of nameless people walking in different directions, all either arriving or leaving, heads down, intent on their destination only. Sarah thought of her sleepy village Ballyaislinn at home in Wexford and the small train station there. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto, she thought with a smile. After a couple of wrong turns she was on her way and soon had arrived at her hotel. It wasn’t a very expensive hotel, and looked a bit shabby, but with her budget it was all she could afford. She walked up to reception to check in.
Understandably, as it was only 10am they didn’t have a room ready for Sarah yet. The receptionist was very pleasant and promised to do her best to get a room ready early for her once Sarah explained how tired she was from her early start. So with at least an hour to kill Sarah decided to go for a walk and check out the neighbourhood. She really hadn’t come prepared to do any sightseeing or shopping, so without any plan formed, decided to just see where she might end up. Wandering up and down streets she enjoyed the colour and bustle of London street life. There were buskers on what seemed like every street corner, the sounds of both folk and pop songs blending into each other beautifully. She had just seen a guy with the pinkest head of hair playing Tom Jones’s Delilah. She found a little souvenir shop on the corner of the road she was on and picked up a couple of pencil cases in the shape of Big Ben for Tommy and Katie. She found a cute little teddy bear wearing a Union Jack t-shirt for Ella. She’d like that. It would be stuffed in her mouth as new teething material as soon as she got her little hands on it. Thinking of the kids made Sarah’s heart ache suddenly. She’s only been gone a few hours and they would be at school now anyhow, so she knew she was being silly. But she’d missed giving them their breakfast and it seemed like a long time ago that she held her baby Ella in her arms and felt her nestle into her neck.
How on earth could Pa
ul stay away from his children this long? Ok, if he didn’t want to be with Sarah anymore, that was one thing. This was followed quickly by a sharp pain in her chest as it tightened with just the mere thought. Surely there would be another explanation. They had been together so long; everyone always said they were the perfect couple.
There wasn’t a reason on this earth that Sarah could think of that would keep her away from her children, so she found it impossible to forgive him for abandoning them. Leaving her behind, she could come to terms with, but she wasn’t sure she could forgive him the children’s pain. She wondered again if perhaps he was ill and suffering from some sort of brain tumour. Then she felt guilty for even thinking that he would be seriously ill. Imagine that thought being actually preferable to him not wanting them all?
Feeling a bit tearful again, Sarah walked purposefully forward. This was not going to get her anywhere; she had to be strong today. No tears! And then all of a sudden she looked up. In front of her, in all its palatial glory, was Buckingham Palace. It was beautiful and majestic. She quickly took out her phone and snapped a few pictures. She thought of Princess Diana as she walked in front of the Palace gates. She remembered so clearly the day she died and the days that followed, the pictures on the news of people pouring their grief out in this very area. She could remember the flowers, a sea of pinks, and purples, greens and reds, lining the street pavements. She had watched Diana’s funeral service all day and cried tears at the sad loss, with her friend Ruby by her side. Funny, she hadn’t thought about Ruby in years and now she kept popping into her head all the time. Maybe she should give her a call as Rita suggested.
Her reminiscing was interrupted suddenly by the shrill sound of her phone ringing. It was the receptionist at her hotel, Sharon.
‘Mrs Lawler?’
‘Yes, speaking.’
‘I’ve moved a few things around and I’m delighted to let you know that we have a room ready for you.’
‘Oh, thank you so much. That’s so kind of you.’
Chapter Eleven
Sarah was sitting in the bright reception of her husband’s firm. The receptionist, a pretty young girl called Tracey, had asked her to take a seat and said she would call to see if he was available.
‘Mr Lawler, sorry to bother you, but your wife is in reception and says that she needs to see you urgently.’ Sarah heard Tracey say into her headpiece efficiently.
Sarah couldn’t hear the response but it was obviously not one that included delight that his wife had tracked him down and he’d be right out to scoop her into his arms and tell her all was ok.
‘Certainly, I’ll let her know that.’ Tracey replied again into the headpiece.
She walked over to Sarah and said, ‘I’m terribly sorry Mrs Lawler, he is in meetings all afternoon, but assures me that he will give you a call as soon as possible.’ This was all relayed in a voice that receptionists all seem to share. Sarah wondered if there was a school for receptionists, where one of the modules they needed to pass was how to speak in an irritating singsong voice. If that were the case this one was a natural and must have passed with flying colours.
How had it come to this? Ten years of marriage, with three children and they were resorted to communicating via ‘Tracey’! She felt overwhelming sadness. She fought the urge to run away from this situation, because whatever was going on here, she knew that it was going to hurt her.
‘You’re stronger than you think you are.’ Edward whispered. ‘You can do this.’
Sarah drew strength from Edward’s confidence in her and turned to Tracy, who was eying her up inquisitively. She refused to be ignored and ushered away by a twenty something receptionist in a pencil skirt that showed a bum that clearly defied gravity while her husband skulked and hid in his office. She was married to ‘Mr Lawler’ and hadn’t come all this way to be palmed off in such an offhand way.
Sarah squared her shoulders back and said firmly, ‘Tracey, please give Mr Lawler the following message. Tell him that his wife will not be leaving this reception until he comes out to see her, even if his wife has to wait here all day and night.’
It was impossible to miss the look of pity that crossed Tracey’s face. But in fairness to her, she quickly recovered and with a smile responded, ‘Certainly.’
A moment later, after she had finished whispering on the phone, Tracey said politely, ‘Can you follow me, please?’ She indicated a room to the right with a flourish of her manicured hands. ‘Mr Lawler will see you in our Tara Suite meeting room.’ ‘Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.’ Sarah gave the receptionist the benefit of her most winning smile.
She stood up and smoothed down her Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress. It was nearly ten years old, something she’d bought in America in one of the outlet malls on her honeymoon. It hadn’t fitted her for years, so it had hung in her wardrobe unworn. She had been pleasantly surprised when she tried it on last week and it had fitted perfectly. She wouldn’t recommend the stress diet to anyone, but in fairness it was effective!
She felt nauseous as she contemplated seeing Paul. Why had he been lying to her for nearly two months now? What else has he been hiding? She took a seat. It was ultra-modern with a white boardroom table, surrounded by lime green chairs, with pink walls. After what felt like hours, but in fact was only moments, Paul walked in. Sarah watched the man she barely recognised in slow motion. His glasses were gone. His normally flat mousey brown hair was cut short, spikey with hair gel. He was wearing a sharp three-piece suit, in grey pinstripe, with a blue shirt underneath, no tie. He looked tanned, rested, younger and very well.
Every core of her being was insulted by the cut of him.
‘For a man with depression, you look awfully fit on it.’ Sarah said stung by his appearance. Her stomach was flipping, she felt her heart beat start to quicken. She had promised herself that the first thing she said wouldn’t be an attack, but seeing Paul looking so obviously well was such a shock for her. She didn’t need her sixth sense to let her know that something was very wrong. This did not look like a man on the brink of suicide as she had been terrified of.
Paul at least had the decency to redden. He stood at the door, unsure as to what to do or say. But then he shifted into ‘salesman’ mode. She’d seen him like this before, when she had played the dutiful wife at big sales dinners with customers. He’d become another version of himself, one that she had never really cared for. Now it seemed he was going to try to charm his way out of trouble.
‘You look good too, Sarah.’ He said with a smile. ‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘I lost my appetite at the same time I lost my husband funnily enough.’ Sarah retorted with irritation.
The fantasy she had clung to that upon seeing her husband again, of the two of them falling towards each other, all right in the world again as they came together, splintered into a million pieces.
She knew that the two sentences she had spoken since her missing husband had walked into the room were both loaded with sarcasm, but her whole body was throbbing from fear, hurt and humiliation. There she was sitting at home, defending her husband to James and friends, saying that he was depressed and now to come face to face with him, to see him looking so well, it cut her beyond anything she could have imagined.
‘It suits you, Sarah.’ Paul went on, ignoring her last comment with another smooth smile. ‘You should keep the weight off, makes you look younger. Is that dress new?’
Sarah had a moment where she saw herself climb up onto the boardroom table, pick up one of the horrendously bright green chairs and hit him over the head with it. But she didn’t move. She needed to keep her cool. Sometimes it’s easier to pretend you don’t care than to show that you are dying inside.
‘No, the dress is not new Paul. It’s over ten years old as it happens. Enough about how I look, I couldn’t care less about that. I want to know what’s going on. I’d like to know why it is that I had to find out from someone else that my husband had taken a new job and moved to
another country.’ Sarah demanded.
‘That’s understandable.’ Paul said nodding. ‘You’ve just thrown me a bit. I wasn’t expecting to see you here today. You won’t believe this probably, but I was going to come to Ireland next month and talk to you. Honestly, I was.’
‘Sure you were.’ Sarah said, trying to bite back the sarcasm. ‘Well, I’ve saved you the trouble. Now talk, I need an explanation. You told me that you were having a breakdown and needed to get away to sort your head out. In the few measly emails I’ve had, you said that your doctor advised that you have some “solitude”’, that you were feeling suicidal. And at no time in the past six weeks have you thought fit to tell me that you’ve changed jobs and emigrated!’ Sarah ended her voice raised several octaves.
‘I know I’ve been a coward. It’s unforgiveable. How did you find me?’ He said lamely.
‘It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to find out. James rang your office and they told him you’d transferred over here. Up until right now, I still didn’t quite believe it. Why on earth would you take a transfer to London headquarters without telling me?’
‘Should of known good old “knight in shining armour” James would be involved somewhere, Sarah!’ he replied accusingly.
‘Don’t try and deflect away from this horror by turning it into a rant about James. You should be grateful that my brother has been around. He’s been amazing with YOUR children, helping them deal with an absent without leave father.’
Paul put his head in his heads. He looked up eventually and said quietly. ‘I was too scared to talk to you Sarah. You love Ballyaislinn, always have done. I knew you wouldn’t want to leave that village. But I hated it there. I hated living in Ireland. This is such a great opportunity for me. It’s a promotion, much bigger client base. I’ve been stifled back in Ireland. I needed a change and this job; well it’s given me a new lease of life. London is where it’s all happening right now.’ His voice had gotten more and more excited with every word he said.
The Life You Left Page 10