The Woman at 72 Derry Lane

by Carmel Harrington

  Tom told me about an informal headquarters that had been set up in the main town centre. The embassy staff would gather there every evening at 7pm to update the families of the missing. Plans were also being made to get us home.

  The driver told me that some Irish had already been sent home via army flights. And some, like Alice, were lucky enough to have health insurance to cover their transportation. I had no idea what insurance we had. I’d never asked Mam and Dad that. But I suspected whatever we had wasn’t much.

  I asked the driver to stop in the shopping centre so that I could buy some clothes, grateful for the money Anna had given me. Shorts, a couple of t-shirts and some underwear. And sandals. I’d been barefoot for so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like to wear them. The soles of my feet protested at first, blisters and cuts suddenly making their presence felt. I’d not noticed before, but now, every step felt like agony. I bought some plasters and antiseptic cream, so I could do some patch-up work later on.

  The hotel lobby was full and the buzz of conversations overwhelmed me. People shoved photographs in my face. Have you seen her? Have you seen my wife? Have you seen my child?

  I stopped and stood still, unmoving, listening to snatches of conversations around me.

  ‘If you were still missing, there’s no chance you were alive …’

  ‘Total devastation …’

  ‘Little hope left …’

  I began to feel dizzy and the room went out of focus. ‘Are you okay, miss?’ someone asked. I shook away their concern.

  I would never be okay again.

  The embassy had booked me a room. It was pretty, with a balcony. I looked down at the beautiful flowers, in bright peaches and yellows, and the green palm trees and once again could not reconcile this reality with the one I was living. I showered and napped for an hour, but I couldn’t rest.

  The pull to go back to the beach was too strong.

  The closer I got to it, the more I realised that this chaos, this destruction, matched better how I felt inside. The hotel room I had just left was the fake part. It jarred, it poked, it prodded me. How could I ever allow myself to relax when Eli and Dad were not here?

  This was my reality.

  Huge machinery picked its way through destroyed buildings. They had to move slowly because there were bodies under that rubble. And perhaps, by some miracle, a survivor or two.

  Everywhere I turned, there was more carnage and decay. The smell of rotting, water-logged flesh was overpowering. The thought that these bodies, lined up in makeshift morgues, wrapped in body bags, might be Dad or Eli, made me want to retch.

  Weeping survivors clung to each other, as they stood in front of bulletin boards. So many snaps of smiling, tanned people, beads in the hair of the children, flowers behind ears of the women and bright shorts on men. Many with Santa hats on. Thai, European, Black, White. All smiling.

  And probably all dead.

  Tomorrow Aunty Paula would be here, with photographs to add to the collage. And I would write a message on them, begging the universe one last time to grant me a miracle.

  We had lost enough. Let them be alive.

  ‘Skye!’ a voice shouted.

  Chapter 47

  SKYE

  I smiled in recognition. It was the sweet little voice of Daisy.

  When I turned towards her, I was overjoyed to see her pulling a man’s hand beside her. And running towards me was Maria, with a little boy wrapped around her neck.

  They had found each other. And I felt happiness hit me.

  ‘Look it’s my daddy and my brother!’

  The little girl flung herself around my legs and clung hard. ‘I missed you, Skye.’

  I scooped her up and held her close, sinking my face into her soft curls. ‘You smell good!’

  ‘We had a shower. All of us together. Alfie and I don’t like the water any more. So Mummy and Daddy got in with us.’

  Maria gave Alfie to his daddy and hugged Skye tight.

  ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes.’ Alfie scrambled down from his daddy’s arms and ran back to his mama again. She picked him up and soothed him, saying, ‘I’m here, it’s okay, little man. I’m right here.’

  I had a feeling that Maria would find it hard to let go of him ever again.

  ‘How’s your mam doing?’ she asked, smiling over his blonde curls.

  I couldn’t say the words. And even if I could, I wouldn’t, not in front of the children. They had seen enough heartbreak, they didn’t need to see mine.

  But my face gave her the answer anyhow. She pulled me into her again and rocked me and Alfie both in her arms. I pulled away. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t allow myself to be comforted. I had to stay focused.

  ‘My Aunty Paula is getting a flight here tomorrow, she’ll help me look for Eli and Dad.’

  Kevin moved forward and said, ‘I feel like I know you, because you are all Daisy has spoken about since we found each other.’

  ‘We’re best buddies, isn’t that right, Daisy?’ I said to her and she grinned back at me. ‘So, where did you find each other, then?’

  ‘We went up the hills to one of the hotels, where a refugee camp was set up. And before the truck even stopped, Daisy had spotted her brother. I swear, these two are so in tune, I’ve never seen a closer brother and sister …’

  Maria stopped mid-sentence. ‘I’m sorry, that’s insensitive of me.’

  I shook my head. I liked seeing Daisy and Alfie together. They started to chase a butterfly. Their closeness was how it should be.

  ‘We’re going to camp out at the airport till they put us on a flight home,’ Kevin said. ‘But before we left, Maria wanted to leave a message on this board for you. And then, there you were. Do you need anything? Have you money? I can get some wired to you.’

  ‘Thank you. You are so kind. But the Irish embassy is helping me and Aunty Paula will be here soon,’ I said. ‘You guys go get your flight home.’

  ‘I’ll never forget you,’ Maria said.

  ‘Nor I you.’

  ‘If you ever need anything. You’ll find me on Myspace, okay? Remember my name: Maria Nolan.’

  I nodded and hugged them all one last time.

  I wasn’t sure what to do next. So I stood looking at the notice board for a while more. Then a woman said, ‘Some of us are heading to the morgues in the temples. If you want to come.’

  I wanted to wait for my aunty to come and help shoulder this responsibility. But even so, I found myself climbing into the back of a truck alongside her.

  We had visited the ornate temples the previous week. Stunningly beautiful, with colourful statues and gilded gold. We parked some distance away and walked towards the main entrance, and I realised they looked very different today. We passed several white canopies that had been erected. And like the main street of Phuket and the hospital, there were many more message boards of the missing.

  I scanned through them, without success once again. There were also folders full of photographs. These were no holiday snaps, though. These were photographs of unclaimed bodies, waiting for family and friends to identify them.

  I stumbled backwards, unable to face it any more.

  In the temple bodies lay, side by side, partially covered in sheets, white, blue and grey. The sun was unrelenting, pounding down and volunteers in scrubs wore masks to help with the stench. A system had been put in place. Each body was numbered and pictures of the dead, of all ages, from toddler to grandparent, were numbered accordingly. As I watched people being led in groups into the temple, their faces ashen and distraught, I thought, this is the gates of hell.

  Even so, I kept moving and joined the queue, until it was my turn to answer more questions, sign more forms and remember any particular items of clothing they were wearing or jewellery.

  ‘They both had on the same shorts. Hawaiian long shorts, in turquoise. And Dad had a wedding ring on. Eli didn’t wear any jewellery.’

  I followed him through row and row of bodies. He k
ept checking his list and every now and then he would pause and I would shake my head. No, that’s not Dad or Eli.

  But then, he lifted a sheet up to the man’s waist and we both saw the turquoise shorts at the same time, glaringly obvious against white legs. I felt weak and he caught me by my arm and steadied me, without missing a beat. His face, kind, but also hardened from the many times he’d done this already. I think if I live to be a hundred, I’ll never think of a worst job than those volunteers had, back then.

  He lifted the sheet higher, to reveal the man’s face. I prayed for the hundredth miracle of our holiday so far. Don’t let it be either of them. But before he got to the face, I knew who it was. You see, I saw, wrapped around the man’s left wrist a canon waterproof camera.

  He didn’t let go of it, Mam. But he did let go of me. He broke his promise. He said he’d find me.

  I knelt down beside him and stroked his cheek. It’s okay, Daddy. It wasn’t your fault.

  Chapter 48

  STELLA

  70 Derry Lane, Dublin, 2014

  Stella tried to get out of bed, but as soon as she did, the room spun. Her legs throbbed with pins and needles and she could barely move, every limb feeling leaden. She realised her vision was impaired and she could only squint through her right eye. She touched her face and realised how swollen it was.

  She became aware of Matt in the en-suite bathroom, heard him swilling water as he brushed his teeth. And then she remembered. He hit her. He tried to strangle her. She felt fear overcome her and she knew she had to get out. What the hell had she been thinking? Staying, playing Russian roulette with her life? Rea told her that Matt would kill her if she stayed. Why hadn’t she listened?

  But she couldn’t move. The room swayed when she tried to sit up. What on earth was wrong with her?

  ‘Oh good, you’re awake,’ Matt said cheerfully, when he walked in.

  Stella tried to answer, but the words sounded wrong. She was drowsy and tired, she wanted to sleep again.

  ‘You poor thing. You must have the flu. Let me get you some paracetamol.’

  A few minutes later, she felt him press a tablet into her mouth and he poured some water in. She gulped the chalky tablet down.

  ‘You go to sleep, my darling. I’m off to work, but I’ll be home at lunchtime to check on you.’

  Stella fell asleep again and dreamed of a faceless man, chasing her, through dark, shadowy lanes filled with menace. She could see a door, ajar, with a flash of light coming through and knew she had to get to that before the man caught her. But her legs hurt and she was just so tired. She fell, but instead of hitting the pebbled lane, the concrete changed into water and she was in the sea, thrashing, unable to breath, gasping for air. The cold water slapped against her body and as her lungs filled, she knew that it was useless.

  She had no more fight to give. That had been her last thought when he strangled her. She was done. She awoke with a start, her lips dry and cracked.

  The taste was back in her mouth. Bitter, like the lingering aftertaste of a tablet taken without any liquid. She was confused, foggy. Something nagged her, prickled her conscience. She remembered Matt standing over her, spooning liquid into her mouth. That taste again. She struggled to remember, but she was confused. Sleep. She’d just sleep some more. Then she’d be fine.

  She awoke again, was it a few minutes or a few hours? She heard bells ringing. She remembered the peel of church bells on Christmas morning and smiled. Was it Christmas? No. That couldn’t be right. Not church bells. It was the doorbell. She listened and could hear a voice shouting. It was Charlie’s voice. He was shouting for her. She opened her eyes and tried to get up, but her legs wouldn’t co-operate. Something was wrong. She needed a doctor. Where had her phone disappeared to? The bedside locker was empty, except for a glass of water. Stella pulled herself upwards and looked at herself in the mirror. A sob escaped when she saw the full extent of Matt’s temper. Her hair was matted and her face mottled purple and swollen. Her right eye was half-closed. He’d broken his previous rule and this time there wasn’t a part of her body that had been off limits to his blows.

  The curtains were closed, she’d no idea what time of the day it was. Using every ounce of her energy, she heaved herself upwards, using the bedside locker to support herself. It took her several attempts, but she persevered until she managed to stand. Then slowly, she moved towards the door, holding onto the wall as she walked. But it wouldn’t open. She pulled the handle down and tried to push the door out. He’d locked it. The empty keyhole stared back at her. Why had he locked the door? He’d never done this before. She called his name out. ‘Matt. Matt.’ But her voice was scratchy and thin. Weak. If he was downstairs, he wouldn’t hear her.

  Stella moved back towards the window and opened the curtains. Daylight streamed into her room and hurt her eyes. She looked down to her garden and was unsurprised to see it empty. She glanced to her left, to number 72 and it too was empty.

  Balancing herself on the window sill, she stared out into the world, willing someone, anyone to come into view. Is this what it was like for Rea, sitting, watching a disinterested world for all those years?

  She missed her friend. ‘Rea, come out, I need you.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.

  She heard the front door slam downstairs. Matt. He must be back. Stella drew the curtains closed quickly and moved back to her bed. Her every instinct told her he wouldn’t like it if he knew she’d been up.

  She heard the thud of his feet as he climbed the stairway and his approach to their bedroom. She closed her eyes as the lock turned in the door. The only sound ringing out in the room was of his breathing as he approached her. She heard wood sliding over wood as he opened a drawer. Then she felt his lips kiss her forehead.

  ‘Time for your medicine, my darling,’ he said and he placed a small tablet under her tongue. She kept her eyes closed and something inside of her screamed out, do not eat this tablet. She moved it with her tongue to the side of her cheek. He kissed her forehead again and whistled as he walked away from her. The door closed and she heard the key turn again.

  He was gone.

  Stella quickly pulled the tablet from her mouth and looked at it. This wasn’t a painkiller. It was one of her sleeping tablets! What the hell was he doing to her?

  Stella heard him in the kitchen. The clatter of cups and plates as he made himself lunch. Or dinner? She had no idea of the time.

  The TV! She’d turn on Sky News and see what time it was. Reaching for the remote control, she hit mute when she switched it on. 1.30pm. Okay, he was home for lunch. And then she saw the date. Two days had passed since Rea’s birthday. She’d been in bed, asleep, drugged, for two days. The bastard. The crazy fucking bastard.

  The last thing she remembered was passing out, nothing after that. She couldn’t remember going to bed that night. Or anything in between.

  But that’s not true. Snatches of moments pierced her brain. Matt helping her go to the toilet. She flushed at the memory. Matt changing her clothes. Matt giving her drinks and tablets.

  The horror of that realisation made her shudder.

  Run. Run. Run. Her mind screamed.

  She waited until she heard him leave for work, then she pulled on a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt and some runners. She carefully tied her hair back off her face, every move making her cry out in pain. She walked over to the window, looking down. She didn’t have the strength to break open her bedroom door, so her only option was this. Could she jump? What was it, about twenty, thirty feet? Not a hope. She was physically weaker than she’d ever been in her life. Her legs shook with just the exertion of standing upright. She looked for something to climb onto, the guttering perhaps?

  Then she saw Luca. He walked into his garden, down towards the mirrors. She opened her window, and was about to call for him, but he saw her in the reflection and spun around, looking up towards the house.

  ‘Help. Help me,’ she cried, willing her voice to get stronger.

/>   ‘Mam, Dad!’ Luca shouted as he ran towards their dividing garden wall, scrambling up over it, in moments.

  ‘Luca.’ Stella felt tears sting her eyes. He saw her.

  ‘Are you o …’ But he stopped mid-sentence, when he saw her battered face.

  ‘He’s locked me in.’

  He looked around him, then shouted up, ‘Don’t worry. I’m going to get you out, I promise you.’

  Then Rea’s voice called up at her. She was standing in her garden. Stella felt so proud of her. She was outside! ‘Stella, what has he done?’

  ‘Call the Gardaí, Mam,’ Luca shouted. ‘Then tell Dad to get the ladder from the shed and pass it over to me.’

  ‘On it already,’ George’s voice shouted over the wall and Stella watched him hand it over to Luca a few moments later. And then he was at the window, looking at her, concern and fear making him frown.

  ‘Let’s get you out of here.’ He reached in and helped Stella to climb out the window. ‘I’ll be right behind you, okay. Just climb down, one rung at a time.’

  And then she felt his arms go around her as she reached the ground. ‘I’ve got you,’ Luca whispered, ‘you’re safe now, I promise.’

  Chapter 49

  STELLA

  Everything happened at double speed after that. Rea wrapped a blanket around Stella and held her in her arms, while George made tea. No matter how big the crisis was, there was always tea, wasn’t there?

  The Gardaí arrived, quickly followed by an ambulance. Luca went with Stella to the hospital and kind nurses checked her over thoroughly. They did a blood test, to screen for drugs.

  She gave her statement to a detective, who had been at her house on more than one occasion previously. Matt had been brought in for questioning and he was currently detained in the Gardaí station. A team of forensics were at Stella’s house.

  They kept her in overnight, giving her fluids, as she was so dehydrated. Luca insisted on staying overnight, sleeping in a chair beside her bed, keeping guard.