Aftermath

by Joanne Clancy

  Anyway, it’s not my fault I’m not domesticated, she thought as she slathered on her moisturiser.

  She was the youngest in a family of three boys and one girl; she was the only girl. They didn’t exactly set her a good example on the housework front. Her poor mother had fought a losing battle against the constant mess of football kits and muddy boots that were strewn everywhere. Isabel had done her best to be tidy but she’d categorically refused to pick up after her brothers.

  She brushed her hair quickly and scraped it back into its usual pony tail, slicked on some lipstick, grabbed her bag and headed out the door. Late as usual, she thought ruefully, glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall.

  The traffic heading into the city centre was, as always, appalling at that hour of the morning. If only I’d left ten minutes earlier, I could have avoided this. Isabel sat in her car and fumed silently, wishing that she could stick her light on the roof and clear a path for herself. But she was driving her own car, and besides, even in a police car she wouldn’t be allowed to use the light to clear a route just so she could be on time for work. Pity, she thought. It’d be a handy perk of the job.

  The shrill ringing of the telephone rudely awoke Kerry from her sleep. She’d eventually dropped off around dawn and her head ached from tiredness. She squinted to see the time on the alarm clock by her bed. It was half past eight. Wonderful, she thought, barely two hours sleep.

  “Yes?” she croaked down the telephone line.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind popping into the station this afternoon. I’d like to ask you some questions about your husband in a more formal environment?”

  “Ok, I’ll be there,” Kerry replied curtly and promptly hung up.

  She leaned back against the pillows and braced herself for another interminable day. What drama will unfold today? I really can’t take any more shocking revelations. She struggled out of bed and turned on the shower in her en-suite. The warm water helped to ease the tension and pains in her aching body.

  Saoirse was already sitting at the table by the time she arrived downstairs. “He’s dead, isn’t he? That’s what your phone call was about.”

  “Who’s dead?” Kerry asked in bewilderment. Her brain was fuzzy from lack of sleep.

  “Dad’s dead,” Saoirse repeated without any emotion in her voice.

  “Of course he’s not dead! The police woman who was here the other day wants me to go to the station to answer some questions.”

  “What about her?” Saoirse asked, contempt dripping from her voice. “The crazy woman, is she going too?”

  “I’ve no idea and I don’t care if she’s going or not,” Kerry said dismissively. She poured herself a large mug of fresh coffee that was brewing in the pot and took a large gulp.

  Saoirse’s mobile phone bleeped and Kerry glanced at her enquiringly.

  “Who’s that?” she asked.

  “It’s Milo.”

  “Milo?”

  “You met him ages ago, mom. He’s my boyfriend.”

  “Oh, I remember.” Kerry smiled when she thought back to the evening that Saoirse had introduced her to Milo. He was a tall, handsome boy with blonde wavy hair and dark chocolate brown eyes. She hadn’t realised that he was Saoirse’s boyfriend, assuming they were just friends. I’m not taking enough interest in her, she thought guiltily. I need to know more about what she gets up to.

  She studied her daughter’s face as she concentrated on texting Milo.

  “What are you texting him?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  “That my mother’s going to the police station to answer some questions about my dad and his two wives.”

  Kerry was quite taken aback by the ferocity of her answer. Her phone bleeped again and tears welled up in her eyes. She pushed her chair back from the table. “I’m going upstairs,” she announced, leaving Kerry sitting on her own.

  Chantale took the telephone call from Isabel while Hope was still sleeping. She asked if Hope could come down to the station that afternoon to discuss some details about her husband.

  “What about the other woman?” Chantale asked. She didn’t want another confrontation like last night. It was too much for Hope in her delicate condition and Chantale was worried for her and the baby. She only had six weeks to go before the baby was born and she really didn’t need any extra stress.

  “I hope she’s gone before we arrive,” Chantale said sternly. “Hope is very upset at the moment.”

  “I understand,” Isabel agreed. “I’m well aware that it’s a sensitive situation.”

  “Good,” Chantale said. “Hope doesn’t feel that you are taking her seriously. She gets the impression that everyone thinks she’s a disgruntled mistress who’s trying to cause trouble.”

  “Trust me,” Isabel said at the other end of the line. “We’re taking the entire situation very seriously indeed.”

  When Chantale finally managed to wake Hope, which was a difficult task as the herbal sleeping remedy seemed to have knocked her out completely, her first question was why Kerry was being interviewed first.

  “I don’t know,” Chantale shrugged.

  “Do the police think she’s more important than me? She isn’t, I’m his wife too,” Hope struggled to sit up in bed.

  “Hope, please,” Chantale looked at her daughter despairingly. “I suppose someone has to be first.” She didn’t know what else to say to her. Surely it didn’t matter who was being interviewed first in the grand scheme of the fiasco.

  “Why should she go first? Why not me? Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s because they think it’s more likely she’s his wife and I’m his mistress. But it’s her word against mine. She can say all she likes about being married to my husband but it’s just not right.”

  “She does seem to know him,” Chantale ventured. “The photographs she had framed in the living room were definitely him.”

  “Maybe she’s the mistress,” Hope ranted. “Has anyone even considered that? Maybe they did have children together, but who’s to say that she’s actually married to him? We only have her word and she could easily be a pathological liar.” Hope looked victorious as she delivered her last words.

  “Maybe she thinks the same about you.”

  Hope shot her mother a glare that was full of such anger that Chantale felt she’d been sharply slapped across the face. “Thank you very much, mother! Thanks for the vote of confidence. I really appreciate your solidarity.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “Hope, you know I’m on your side. You’re being ridiculous,” Chantale sighed in exasperation, knowing she was fighting a losing battle.

  “I suppose you’re going to call me a drama queen, just like that brat last night.”

  “Hope, please calm down.”

  “How can I calm down? You know I’m not lying. You were at my wedding! But you seem to believe that woman.”

  “Hope, darling,” Chantale reached for her daughter’s hand. “Of course I believe you but Mrs. Darcy doesn’t seem to be lying either.”

  Hope snatched her hand away. “Wonderful,” her voice was laden with disgust. “You’re giving her the benefit of the doubt. Why? Is it because she’s older than me and more Niall’s age group? You always said he was too old for me but how could he possibly want to be with her more than he wants to be with me? I’m having his baby for heaven’s sake.” Her breath caught in a ragged cry and she grabbed her stomach.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s only a dart of pain. I’m fine.” Hope winced as another cramp caught her.

  “Come on, let’s get you up. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea. I think your father’s cooking something tasty for breakfast.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry,” Hope turned her tear-filled chocolate brown eyes to her mother. “I’m just very scared and lonely. What if Niall never comes back? What if he’s dead?” She swallowed, trying to gulp back her tears. “I don’t want to raise our baby alone. I’m scared
to death of being a mother and my husband doesn’t even know I’m pregnant.”

  Chantale squeezed her daughter’s shoulders. “Everything will be fine,” she said fiercely. “I know it. He’ll be home to see his baby very soon.”

  Kerry and Saoirse pulled up outside the police station and walked in silence to the front desk, each consumed in her own thoughts. Kerry hadn’t wanted Saoirse to come with her to the interview but she’d insisted, saying that she had a right to know what was going on. Kerry didn’t have the energy to argue with her. They remained silent as they sat in the waiting room. The room made an effort to be cheerful, with brightly coloured upholstered chairs arranged around a small table that was stacked with magazines. There was a hot drinks vending machine in the corner and Kerry selected tea for herself and hot chocolate for Saoirse. They sat and waited for Isabel.

  “Mrs. Darcy, how are you?” Isabel asked gently, instantly noting the tense silence between mother and daughter.

  “Fine,” Kerry replied mechanically, forcing a stiff smile.

  Isabel noticed the dark shadows under her eyes and the paleness of her face. Saoirse didn’t look much better. It was obvious that neither of them had been sleeping very well.

  “Would it be possible to talk to you on your own, Mrs. Darcy?”

  Kerry glanced at her daughter who glared mutinously back.

  “We won’t be long,” Isabel nodded to the girl as she led Mrs. Darcy to the interview room.

  “This seems very formal,” Kerry said in a clipped tone.

  “Well, Mrs. Darcy, we need to investigate the situation between you and Hope and your husband.”

  “There is no situation,” Kerry said wearily. “I’m his wife. You can ask anyone.”

  “Do have a marriage certificate?” Isabel asked. “I’ll need Conor’s birth certificate too please.”

  “Of course I have them,” Kerry said defensively. “I brought them with me, just like you asked.”

  She rummaged about in her bag for a moment before handing the documents to Isabel. “I brought you our wedding album, too.”

  “I see,” Isabel took the paperwork and album from her and began flicking through them. “Is this the best man and bridesmaid?” she asked, pointing to one of the photos.

  “He’s Conor’s brother. He lives in New York now, emigrated years ago and that’s my old college friend, Sophie. She lives in Australia but we’re still in touch.”

  “How many people were at the wedding?” Isabel asked, continuing to study the album. She stopped turning the pages for a moment to study one of the photos more closely. “Were your parents there?”

  “Conor’s parents were there but my parents died when I was a baby.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Isabel was quite taken aback by the starkness of Kerry’s words.

  “It’s fine. I never knew them so I suppose you can’t miss what you never had. I was lucky enough to have a wonderful aunt and uncle who adopted us.”

  “Us?” Isabel looked at her quizzically.

  “Yes, I have a twin sister, Maura.”

  “Did Conor see much of his parents?”

  “Not really. They live in the countryside, miles from anywhere. He was never particularly close to them. He didn’t talk about them much at all. We went to see them now and then but I don’t think his dad really likes me. I know it sounds mad but I think his dad wanted him to marry a girl from the local village and settle nearby. He probably thinks I lured his son away. I don’t think he likes women very much. He can be a right old grump, always giving out about something. I don’t know how his wife puts up with him. His dad says I think I’m too good for them in my own mind, which is complete nonsense. I know Conor dated a few girls from his village but there was never anyone serious until he met me, or at least, that’s what he told me.”

  Kerry coughed, not knowing quite what to say next. Clearly there was someone else serious in his life and that someone was Hope.

  “Can I get you a drink of water?” Isabel asked kindly.

  “No, I’m fine. Let’s just get this over and done with,” Kerry nodded firmly and shook her head, trying to regain her composure.

  “How would you describe your relationship with your husband?” Isabel continued.

  “I thought we had a good, solid relationship,” Kerry replied. “We could talk about anything and we had fun. He was away a lot with work which could be difficult at times, but I was always happy to see him when he returned and I believed he was happy to see me too. He genuinely seemed to miss me when he was gone and even suggested that I come with him when he travelled abroad for meetings but of course I couldn’t, I had a house to run and children to care for. Obviously, it was just a ploy on his part. He knew I couldn’t come which is probably why he suggested it in the first place.”

  “Have you ever had any trial separations or has there ever been anyone else involved in your relationship?” Isabel asked, noting the bitter tone that had crept into Kerry’s voice.

  “I’ve just told you that I thought we had a rock solid marriage, until now,” Kerry snapped, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “No, in answer to your question, we have never had a trial separation or even remotely discussed such a thing.”

  “Why do you think Hope Gilligan is claiming to be his wife?” Isabel asked gently. “She seems to firmly believe it.”

  “How the hell would I know? She’s obviously completely off her head!” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the table in front of her and scrubbed her tears away. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry.

  “Maybe she’s in a relationship with him and it’s easier for her to say that they’re married. What do you think?”

  “I suppose it would be a lot less embarrassing for her,” Kerry said in disgust, “especially with a baby on the way.”

  “Is it possible that there really is something between them but you didn’t know anything about it?”

  Kerry began absent-mindedly pulling the tissue in her hand into tiny shreds. She stared unseeingly out the window while Isabel watched her silently.

  “Who knows? Anything is possible it seems. It doesn’t matter anyway, he can only be married to one person and that’s obviously me.”

  Isabel remained silent.

  “There was a time a few years ago when we went through a bad patch,” Kerry reluctantly admitted. She scrunched the tissue into a ball and flung it in the waste paper basket by her feet. “He was working away more and more. Often, he’d be gone for weeks at a time. I was finding it difficult coping with the children on my own and trying to manage my writing too. I don’t know how I would have coped without my sister’s help.” Kerry pulled another tissue from the box and blew her nose loudly. “Actually, I will have that drink of water if you don’t mind.”

  Isabel got up from her chair and poured two glasses of water from the cooler in the corner.

  “Carry on,” Isabel gently encouraged her as she placed the ice-cold glass in front of her.

  “I suggested that he should try delegating some of his meetings. Surely there were other people in the business who could take his place every now and then. We argued a lot. He said we needed the money to keep the house running and the girls in private school. I said we didn’t need the money that badly, not if it meant hardly ever seeing him. What was the point in having lots of cash and never being together? Anyway, he was working all the hours God sent and I was preoccupied with the children and my own work so I guess, for a while, we sort of drifted apart.”

  “I see,” Isabel said thoughtfully, continuing to scribble notes in her pad.

  “I don’t understand where he would have gotten the time for an affair, to be honest. He was working very long hours and he always seemed completely exhausted when he was home. Even when he was home he was constantly on the computer emailing or Skyping. But we got through that period and we sorted it all out. I love him and I know he loves me too.”

  “Have you had any news on him?” Isabel asked, deciding to change t
he subject. She could see how difficult it was for Kerry having her relationship probed in such a way. It must be difficult having to reveal the intimate details of your marriage to anyone let alone a complete stranger, Isabel thought sympathetically.

  “No news,” Kerry sighed deeply. “We’ve had a few crank calls and dead-end leads. It’s beginning to feel like he’s vanished off the face of the earth.” She sniffed. “It’s all so unreal. My husband is missing. I’ve no idea if he’s dead or alive and instead of being able to concentrate on finding him the only thing I can think about is that woman and why on earth she’s claiming to be married to my husband. It’s not possible, absolutely no way. There was never any thought of Conor and I getting a divorce, never. We went through a bad patch for a while like most people experience, but it was never so bad that we even considered leaving each other, not even for a moment. We’ve been together too long and have too much love and respect for each other.”

  Isabel eyed Kerry carefully. It sounded to her like Kerry was trying to convince herself of the stability of her relationship. One minute she was beginning to grasp the fact that her husband might have had another woman and the next minute she was refusing to believe any of it.

  “I’ll be talking to Hope too,” Isabel said. “I’ll be sure to keep you updated with any developments.”

  “Thanks,” Kerry smiled weakly.

  “Just one more question, Mrs. Darcy, if I may?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “What happened at holidays and special occasions like Christmas?” Isabel asked.

  “Christmas is one of the busiest times of the year for Conor,” Kerry answered. There was a defensive note in her voice. “If there’s any crisis at the hotels, Conor is expected to sort it out. Sometimes he’s called away unexpectedly. I know the hotels have their own manager but last Christmas there was a shooting at one of the hotels in Germany and he had to be there. He’s very well paid for his job and I’ve never particularly minded until recent years. The children are growing up fast and seem to need me less. I miss him more and more and his working away so much was really starting to lose its appeal…” Her voice trailed off and she stared at the desk in front of her, not knowing what else to say.