The Girl Who Lied

by Sue Fortin

  I take the steps the flat as quickly as I dare in this weather, but at the same time with an urgency to get out of my wet clothes and to dry my hair, which has turned into a mass of copper coils. As I open the door to the flat, something makes me glance to my right and I see the bathroom light is on. I don’t remember leaving it on.

  As I walk into the living room, I sense I’m not alone. The door to the hallway is open and I can see a shadow move across the bottom of the closed bathroom door.

  The door opens and I jump, letting out a small squeal.

  ‘Mum!’ I hold my hand to my racing heart. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be here. You scared me.’

  ‘Sorry, I decided to come home for the night,’ says Mum. She’s wearing her dressing gown and her hair is wrapped in a towel. In her hands is a bundle of wet clothing. ‘I got caught in the rain.’

  ‘What were you doing out in the rain? I thought Fiona and Sean were bringing you home.’

  ‘Sean had to work late. Some emergency or something, so Fiona and I got a taxi back from the hospital.’ Mum takes her wet clothes through to the kitchen and puts them into the washing machine.

  ‘So how come you’re so wet?’ I ask

  ‘I went for a walk. I needed some time to think about what the doctor said.’

  I look at my watch. ‘It’s half-past nine. It’s a bit late to go wandering around, especially in this weather.’

  ‘Ah, sure, it wasn’t raining then. Like I said, I just got caught in it.’

  ‘Where was Fiona? Didn’t she offer to go with you?’ I don’t like the thought of Mum wandering around in the dark.

  ‘I didn’t tell her. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,’ says Mum. I follow her back through to the bathroom, where she plucks a towel from the airing cupboard and passes it to me. ‘You’re a fine one to talk, you’re soaking yourself.’

  I take the towel and rub vigorously at my hair. ‘So where’s Fiona now?’ I ask.

  ‘She had to get back for the babysitter. She had a couple of things that needed sorting out.’

  ‘Well, don’t be going off again like that without telling someone,’ I say.

  Mum laughs. ‘Yes, Mummy.’

  ‘It’s not funny,’ I reply, although I can feel the corners of my mouth turning up. I give in and a broad grin spreads across my face.

  ‘Now you know how I felt all those years ago when the two of you were out.’ Mum comes over and kisses me. ‘Am I grounded now?’

  ‘No, but you can have an early night for your cheek.’

  ‘I’ll have a cup of tea first, though.’

  ‘I’ll ring Fiona. Check she got home okay,’ I say, as I head to my room to get changed into some dry clothes.

  Mum has taken to coming home the last few nights. Fiona and I have managed to persuade her she will have a better night’s sleep in her own bed and reassure her that the hospital will ring if there is any change at all.

  I call Fiona’s mobile number, but can’t get through, so I call the house phone instead. An unfamiliar voice, who I assume is the babysitter, picks up the call.

  ‘I was trying to get hold of Fiona,’ I say. ‘It’s her sister. Is she there?’

  ‘Hi. It’s Karen. I’m the babysitter,’ comes the reply. ‘Fiona’s not back from the hospital yet.’

  ‘Oh, right. I expected her to be back by now.’ I wedge the phone between my shoulder and chin as I wriggle out of my jeans and into my pyjamas.

  ‘She called me to say she had been held up, but she’d be back as soon as possible,’ says Karen. ‘Shall I get her to call you?’

  ‘If you could. I’ll try her mobile again. I might get hold of her that way.’

  I end the call, puzzled as to where Fiona might be. She and Mum had come home by taxi, dropping Mum off first. I consider questioning Mum, but decide against it – she has enough to worry about without me inventing things. I’m not my sister’s keeper. Maybe she’s called in to see a friend. I give Fiona’s mobile one more try. This time it rings.

  My sister’s out-of-breath voice comes on the line.

  ‘Hi, Erin. Everything okay?’

  ‘Yes. All good. Are you okay? I rang the house, but your babysitter was still there.’

  ‘I’ve literally just walked in now. I had to pick up a bit of shopping on the way home and bumped into one of the mums from school. We got chatting – you know what it’s like. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at the flat. Mum’s here. I was just checking you got back.’

  ‘Yep, all safe and sound,’ says Fiona. ‘I’ll call by the café tomorrow after I’ve done the school and nursery run. One of us can take Mum to the hospital and the other can stay in the café. How does that sound?’

  ‘That sounds fine. I’ll take Mum up to the hospital, if you like.’

  ‘Really? I mean, that’s great,’ says Fiona. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

  I don’t miss the note of surprise in Fiona’s voice and I appreciate the quick recovery she makes. Both Fiona and Mum will be pleased with my change of heart about visiting Dad, but I’m not ready for a big discussion about it. Knowing my family as I do, I’m confident they will let it go, silently accepting and approving of my new attitude.

  Mum looks comfortable in the armchair, her big blue dressing gown pulled tight around her, a cup of tea resting in her hands on her lap. She nods towards the other cup, which she has made for me, on the coffee table. Finishing my call with Fiona, I replace the receiver in its cradle.

  It’s dark outside now. I switch on the table lamp and go over to close the curtains. As I draw them together, the sound of a motorbike’s engine rumbling along the road catches my attention. I look out and as the bike passes under the street lighting, turning from Beach Road on to the main road into the village, I recognise the rider as Kerry.

  He draws to a halt and lifts the goggles from his eyes. He looks up at the flat. I look back at him. I’m too far away and it’s too dark to see his face properly, but I know he can see me. After a moment, he blips the throttle and, flicking the bike into gear with his foot, pulls away from the kerb, disappearing out of sight. I can hear him as he turns into the bike yard. A rev of the engine before it’s cut.

  I snag the curtains closed.

  Chapter 27

  I’m up early the next morning and am surprised to see that Mum is already dressed and sitting in the living room.

  ‘Morning. I thought you might have a bit of a lie-in.’

  ‘Old habits die hard,’ says Mum. ‘I wondered if you would like a hand opening up the café.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘You stay here and have a rest. Unless you really want to, that is.’ I wonder whether a bit of normality might help her. Perhaps seeing and chatting to the customers might be good.

  ‘I’ll come down with you,’ says Mum. ‘No point sitting up here on my own.’

  The usual early-morning customers are in for their breakfast and I’m pleased to see they make a fuss of Mum. Asking how Dad is, offering their sympathies and any help she might need. It’s nice to see and I suspect it’s having a positive effect. She’s actually smiling and there’s a light behind her eyes: one I haven’t seen since arriving back in Rossway.

  With each tinkle of the bell above the door announcing the arrival of a customer, I look up, expecting to see Kerry or Joe walk in. I’m not quite sure how I’m going to react. I can feel the apprehension building in my stomach as every minute passes.

  It’s only a matter of time before they get here. Sure enough, at seven-thirty the two cousins bowl in.

  ‘Mrs Hurley,’ greets Joe. ‘Now, there’s a fine sight. Are you cooking breakfast today?’

  ‘It’s good to see you, Mrs Hurley,’ says Kerry. ‘How’s Jim?’

  ‘They’re going to try to wake him from his coma soon,’ says Mum and then turning to Joe. ‘Have you missed my cooking, then?’

  ‘Ah, we have, indeed,’ says Joe. He leans on the counter, beckoning Mum to do the same. ‘Much as I apprecia
te Erin’s culinary delights, they’re no match for yours.’ He shields his mouth with his hand and in a mock whisper, ‘But don’t tell Erin I said that. She’s a sensitive thing, that one.’ He winks.

  Mum gives a chuckle while I force a smile. Kerry is looking at me, his face expressionless. I feel my heart sag, but try to disguise it by turning my attention back to Joe.

  ‘I’m not good enough now, is that it?’ I say, trying to sound light-hearted but not entirely convinced I’m doing a good job of it.

  ‘Ah, now, your mother here, she is the queen of the cooked breakfast,’ says Joe straightening up. ‘It would be more than my life’s worth to dethrone her.’

  Mum laughs, which makes me smile. It’s nice to see her happy, if only for a while.

  ‘Go and sit down, boys,’ she says. ‘I’ll bring your food over in a while and Erin will be along with your coffees.’

  I take the coffees over a few minutes later and, despite the hostilities from Kerry, decide there is nothing I can do for now but carry on.

  ‘How are Bex and the children?’ I ask as I place the drinks on the table, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Kerry.

  ‘They’re doing well,’ says Joe, his face lighting up as he speaks. ‘Breeze is living up to her name. She’s just a breeze to look after, says Bex. So easy, it’s like she’s always been with us.’

  ‘Bex is such a great mum,’ says Kerry. ‘A real natural. You’ve got a good one there, cuz.’

  ‘That’s good. Tell her I was asking after her,’ I say.

  ‘You might be able to tell her yourself,’ says Joe, stirring sugar into his cup. ‘She’s calling in at lunchtime to see me. I’ll get her to pop over.’

  ‘I won’t back from the hospital until around two,’ I reply. ‘If I don’t see her then, I’ll call by at some point.’ I could do with a friendly face, that’s for sure. I loiter for a moment. I want to ask Kerry if I can speak to him. We’ve unfinished business. We both know that. He didn’t stop outside the flat and look up at me for no reason and, yet, going by this morning, it would seem it’s the last thing on his mind. I feel confused, hurt and, above all, controlled. I don’t like that feeling, it’s far too familiar. A feeling I experienced for too long via Ed. I will just have to tell him now that I want to speak to him, but, as if he has anticipated the words, Kerry speaks to Joe.

  ‘What’s on agenda for today? Is that Ducati being collected? I noticed last night the exhaust could do with a polish before we let it go.’

  The moment is lost. The conversation doesn’t include me as the cousins discuss the day ahead. Fortunately, one of the other customers calls me over and I leave the Wrights to it.

  Some twenty minutes later Joe and Kerry finish their breakfast. Kerry appears at the counter.

  He pushes a five-euro note and some coins over towards me

  ‘We’ll talk later,’ he says.

  I slide the money off into my cupped hand. ‘I’m going to the hospital with my mum today. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’

  ‘You know where to find me,’ he says. His face is unsmiling and his voice gives no clue as to his thoughts.

  The hospital room doesn’t feel as oppressive as it had when I first arrived back in Ireland. Before, I hated coming here to visit. I hated having to look at Dad and feel nothing for him. I hated only feeling for Mum and what it was doing to her.

  Today, I don’t feel any of that hate. Dad’s eyes are closed and he breathes steadily of his own accord.

  ‘He’s been breathing very well on his own,’ says the doctor, reading from the clipboard of notes. ‘The scan we did yesterday reveals that the swelling has gone down on his brain, so it is all looking good to begin to wake him.’

  ‘How exactly will you do that?’ I ask.

  ‘We use medication, an antidote to the anaesthetic we used to sedate him. I’ve attached an I/V line to drip through the medication,’ says the doctor. ‘Now, his legs and arms have been twitching a bit too, which is a good sign that he’s ready to wake up, but please don’t expect anything to happen quickly. It can take around six hours before the patient responds.’

  Since arriving at the hospital, when the nurse gave us the heads-up that today is the day, Mum has lapsed into a silence.

  ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ I say, when I realise Mum isn’t going to say anything.

  ‘I’ll come back in about ten minutes once we have the medication sorted out,’ says the doctor as he leaves the room.

  I turn to Mum. ‘Are you okay?’

  Mum closes her eyes and nods. ‘Yes, sorry, I’m a little nervous, if I’m honest.’

  ‘It will be okay,’ I say, guiding her to the bedside chair. ‘The doctors know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t be trying to wake Dad if they didn’t think it was the right thing to do.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Let’s try and be upbeat about this,’ I say, feeling concern and frustration at the same time. ‘It will help Dad if we’re positive. It’s all good.’

  Mum looks at me.

  ‘Is it?’ she says. ‘Is it all good?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ I pull the other plastic chair round so I can sit next to her. ‘I know things have been difficult between myself and Dad, and for good reason, but things have changed.’ I reach over to the bed and place my hand on top of Dad’s. I hesitate for only a moment before curling my fingers. ‘Sometimes good things come out of bad things.’

  ‘And sometimes, bad from good,’ says Mum.

  I look at her. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘A mother’s love knows no bounds,’ she says. She looks out of the window. ‘Everything I have ever done, or not done, has been for many reasons, but at the heart of it all, the underlying reason has always been because I love you and Fiona more than anything or anyone in the world. You do know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Mum, of course I do,’ I say. I don’t understand why she’s telling me this, but it seems important to her and it seems equally important that I understand. A feeling of unease weaves its way around me. ‘Mum… has something happened?’

  Mum blinks hard and gives the faintest of smiles.

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about.’ She brushes a curl back from my eyes. ‘That’s my job.’

  I go to protest, but the doctor comes back into the room, accompanied by a nurse. The moment to question Mum is lost and although I try to focus on what the doctor is saying and doing, my concentration keeps stalling. All I can think about is what Mum said. And bad from good. The unease grows tighter with every thought.

  Chapter 28

  ‘That’s what I like to see, you two hard at work,’ Bex’s voice called out. Kerry looked up and smiled as she entered the workshop. As usual, she was carrying Breeze in a baby sling, one hand protectively around the bundle, her other hand holding Storm’s. He was straining to free himself like a puppy on a lead.

  ‘Hey,’ called Kerry.

  ‘There she is, the love of my life,’ said Joe. He wiped his hands on a rag and greeted his family. Kisses all round. The greeting extended to Kerry as Bex came over and gave him a peck on the cheek. Skip trotted out from the office and wagged his tail madly as Bex and Storm made a fuss of him.

  ‘How you doing, Bex?’ said Kerry. He dipped a kiss onto Breeze’s head. ‘And how’s our little princess?’

  ‘And me. I’m a prince.’ Storm pulled on Kerry’s trouser leg.

  Kerry picked up Storm. ‘Hey there, buddy. I mean, Prince Buddy.’

  ‘I’ve brought some lunch,’ said Bex, lifting the bag she was carrying. ‘Sandwiches, beer and cake. Thought we could sit on the beach.’

  ‘Give us five minutes,’ said Joe.

  ‘What’s this, then? A tea party?’ Max came out onto the landing from the upstairs office. ‘Hello, Bex, sweetheart. How are you?’ Max came down and made a fuss of his grandchildren. ‘So, I expect you’re wanting a lunch break, Joe?’

  ‘And Kerry,’ said Bex.

  ‘Oh, I see how it is,’ said Max. He w
inked at his daughter-in-law. ‘No invite for me.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome to come too,’ said Bex.

  Max shook his head and smiled at his family. ‘Nah, I’m only teasing. I’ll stay here and man the fort.’ He looked at Joe and Kerry. ‘Well, go on then, before I change my mind.’

  The beach was quiet and the Wright family settled themselves on the blanket Kerry had grabbed from his flat, along with a golf umbrella from the corner of the workshop. He opened it out and stuck it in the sand, wedging some stones around the base. ‘There, that should keep the sun off the little ones,’ he said. He pulled out a tennis ball from his pocket and threw it for Skip to chase after.

  ‘Cheers, cuz,’ said Joe, cradling his daughter in the crook of his arm.

  ‘Oh, look,’ said Bex. She squinted against the sun, holding her hand up to shield her eyes. ‘It’s Sean Keane. He’s coming this way.’

  Kerry glanced up. Sure enough, Fiona’s husband was yomping through the sand, heading directly towards them. Kerry felt himself bristle. An automatic response to the blue uniform of the Guards; a reaction left over from his wilder teenage years.

  Kerry exchanged a look with Joe, who shrugged in response.

  ‘No idea,’ he said.

  ‘Likewise,’ muttered Kerry.

  Sean Keane reached the Wrights.

  ‘Kerry. Joe. Bex.’ Sean nodded at each in turn and gave a smile towards Storm.

  ‘Everything okay, Sean?’ said Joe, his voice wary.

  ‘Have any of you seen or heard from Roisin Marshall at all today?’

  The three looked blankly at each other. Bex spoke first. ‘No. I’m afraid not. To be honest, I don’t see much of her these days anyway.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Joe. ‘Is something up?’

  Sean looked at Kerry, waiting for a response.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen her either,’ said Kerry. He looked away to where Skip, having lost interest in the tennis ball, was bounding in and out of the water.