by Sue Fortin
‘When did you last see her?’ pressed Sean.
Kerry looked back. ‘The other day, maybe. I think I saw her walking through the village. Couldn’t swear to what day exactly.’
‘What’s happened?’ said Bex, standing up.
‘Don’t be getting yourself all worked up, now,’ said Sean. ‘She didn’t come home last night. Her mother phoned the station this morning to report her missing.’
‘Oh, no!’ said Bex.
‘Her phone’s off. No one can get hold of her,’ said Sean.
‘I hope she’s all right,’ said Joe, standing up next to Bex and putting an arm around his wife’s shoulder. ‘Who have you asked so far?’
‘We’re doing the rounds now,’ said Sean. ‘I called by the bike shop. Your dad said I’d find you here.’
‘When was she last seen?’ asked Bex.
‘Around suppertime last night. Her mam and dad thought she had gone to bed, but when she didn’t come down for breakfast, they realised something was wrong. Her bed hasn’t been slept in. Diana has been phoning around. No one has seen Roisin at all. Anyway, I’d better get on. If you see or hear anything, let me know.’
‘Yeah, sure.’
‘Of course. Bye, Sean.’
‘Sure, that’s awful if anything has happened to Roisin,’ said Bex sitting back down on the blanket. ‘That family are blighted.’
‘Nothing’s happened to Roisin,’ said Joe. He passed Storm a juice carton. ‘Sit down there, Storm. That’s a good lad.’
‘What makes you say that?’ said Bex.
Joe shrugged. ‘Well, I mean, I’m sure nothing’s happened to her. She’s probably gone off in a mood somewhere,’ he said. ‘She’s not been herself lately.’
‘I know, but you’d think she’d let her mother know,’ said Bex. ‘Can you imagine what Diana must be going through? She’s already lost one child, to lose another…’
‘Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit?’ said Kerry. ‘Joe’s right. Roisin might just have gone off with a friend or something.’
‘Like I said, I’m sure she’ll turn up,’ said Joe.
‘Do you think it’s anything to do with Erin being back?’ said Bex. ‘Joe, you said yourself, her and Erin had a massive row in the street. What was that all about?’
‘You best ask Kerry that,’ said Joe.
Kerry hesitated. He didn’t want to break Erin’s trust. He was aware that Joe and Bex were expecting a response, though.
‘It’s not for me to say,’ he said at last. ‘Sorry, but it’s something between Erin and Roisin. I can’t say. I’m not even sure I know the whole story anyway.’ He felt bad not sharing what he knew with Joe and Bex. He would trust them with his life, but despite his disapproval of what Erin had done, it would feel like he was betraying her trust.
‘I won’t waste my time trying to get you to tell,’ said Joe. ‘I know what you’re like. You’re loyal, if nothing else.’
‘Now, wait a minute,’ said Bex. ‘If this secret is anything to do with Roisin and her disappearance, then you have to tell.’
‘No. No, I don’t,’ said Kerry. ‘As I said, it’s not for me to tell.’
‘Kerry’s right,’ said Joe, much to Kerry’s relief. ‘Let’s leave it for now. Roisin will rock up later. She’s probably got herself a fella and spent the night sha…’
‘Okay, that will do,’ said Bex cutting in. She nodded towards Storm. ‘Little ears.’
‘Yes, Daddy, you can’t say rude things in front of me,’ said Storm.
‘That’s me told,’ said Joe. He ruffled his son’s hair.
The appeal of the leisurely lunch on the beach waned with every minute. The news of Roisin’s disappearance weighed heavy on Kerry and he could tell it was the same for both Joe and Bex.
‘I’ll go and see Erin,’ he said standing up. ‘I’ll let her know what’s going on. Will you take Skip back to the workshop for me?’
‘No worries,’ said Joe.
The café was quiet now the lunchtime rush was finished. A couple of older women were talking over a pot of tea, but other than that, the place was empty. Erin and Fiona were deep in conversation at the counter when Kerry walked in. The concern and anxiety on their faces told him they already knew about Roisin. They both looked up as he neared the counter.
‘Kerry,’ said Erin. ‘Have you heard about Roisin?’
‘Yes, Sean just told us. I was coming over to see if you’d heard.’
‘It’s terrible,’ said Fiona. ‘What on earth could have happened?’
‘No one seems to know,’ said Kerry. ‘Let’s think positive, though. I’m sure she’ll turn up later.’
‘I hope so,’ said Fiona. ‘Her mum is distraught, Sean said. They had to call the doctor out to her to give her something to calm her down.’
‘Poor woman,’ said Kerry. He looked at Erin. Was that a look of disapproval she had tried to lift from her face without him seeing?
‘Look, I best get on,’ said Fiona, taking the car keys from Erin. ‘My turn to sit with Mum while we wait for Dad to wake up.’
‘No change yet, then?’ said Kerry.
‘No. I’ve just come back from there,’ said Erin. ‘It can take some time.’
‘I’ll see you later,’ said Fiona, giving Erin a quick hug.
‘Call me as soon as there’s any news,’ said Erin, as Fiona went out the door.
‘I was going to come and speak to you before I heard about Rosin,’ said Kerry.
‘I sent you a text,’ said Erin.
‘I know.’ Kerry dug his hands in his pockets to stop them from drawing Erin to him. He wanted her, he really did, but every time he thought about what she had done, it pulled him up short. ‘I’ve tried to get my head round what you told me. About the baby. Really, I have.’
‘Let’s go in the kitchen,’ said Erin, glancing up at the two customers still chatting. Kerry followed her through to the back. He waited while she appeared to choose her words.
‘I did it out of love,’ said Erin. Her voice was soft, yet Kerry was aware of the steel that laced her words. She continued. ‘I did what I thought was the best thing to do at the time.’
‘And now?’
‘It doesn’t matter what I think now. What’s done is done.’
‘You don’t want to undo it?’
‘No. No, I don’t. And I can’t. It will only cause everyone pain. There’s been enough pain in our families. I don’t want there to be any more. I can’t let it happen. I won’t let it.’
He could see tears in her eyes. She looked away, blinking hard to stop them falling. Despite his best intentions not to have physical contact, he found his hands on her shoulders. He turned her to face him.
‘How far would you go to stop it from happening? To stop the truth from coming out,’ he said. She didn’t answer. She gave a sob and the tears raced down her face. ‘Jesus, Erin, tell me you didn’t have anything to do with Roisin going missing?’
She gave a laugh between the sobs and drew deep breaths, while wiping her face with her fingertips.
‘And there’s me thinking I needed to ask you the exact same question,’ she said. ‘God, what a bloody mess this is turning out to be.’
‘You didn’t answer the question.’
‘Nor did you.’ She gave a final wipe of her face. ‘Of course I didn’t.’ She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head, waiting for his response.
‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘Good, that’s cleared that up,’ said Erin.
‘What about Ed?’ He had to ask.
‘As in …?’
‘As in, what’s the craic with you two? I saw you going off with him last night.’
‘Nothing is going on with Ed,’ said Erin. He felt her shoulders sag under this hands. ‘It was his last-ditch attempt at patching things up. That’s all.’
Kerry registered the relief he felt. He nodded. ‘Good.’
‘So, where does that leave us?’
‘I know where I
want it to,’ said Kerry. ‘I’m just having a hard job getting there.’
‘I know you like to see things in black and white, that things are usually cut and dried for you,’ said Erin, ‘but life’s not like that. Not for me. Not for you.’
The sound of the bell above the door broke through. ‘Let’s talk about this later,’ said Erin. ‘I’ve got a customer.’
She gave him the briefest of kisses on his mouth. He went to respond, even though part of his mind was screaming for him not to. He couldn’t help himself. But it was only a fleeting brush of her lips. ‘Meet me tonight?’ he said.
‘I’ll call you. I’ve got to go back to the hospital later. I don’t know what’s happening with Dad yet.’
‘Sure.’
‘We’ll sort this out,’ she said. ‘I promise.’
He watched Erin go out to the front of the café. In his heart, he wanted to believe her that they could sort it out, but his head was putting up a fight. He couldn’t be sure what would win.
Chapter 29
I had hated my father for what he had forced me to do. Or rather, what he assumed I would do. But my hate was that of a teenager who already had a tenuous relationship with him, a relationship that was already fractured. The insistence of a termination breaking the last of the links. I had given my baby up and I had hated my father even more.
Over the years I had stoked the hate. Every time I felt the flame was waning and at times diminishing to an ember without my notice, I poured petrol on it. It was the anger that kept me going. Without it I was afraid I would crumble under the weight of grief. Not only had I lost Niall but I had lost my child; this was Diana and my father’s fault. I blamed them entirely. It had helped me cope.
I wander into the hospital on autopilot as I continue to analyse my thoughts and feelings. Now that I’m on the verge of losing my dad, I realise it scares me. If he dies, then I will have to face that our relationship will forever in time be a scared memory. A deep wound in my history, where life has healed over and left a mark. I don’t want to lose the opportunity to reconcile things. Life, love and families are precious. I want to make things up with my father, despite the choices I’ve been forced to make. All this time I was in the driving seat, I was in control. It was up to me how our relationship played out and now I’m on the verge of losing that control, I’m frightened. I realise that all this time, deep down, I actually do want to make things up with Dad, but I’ve always thought I had time on my side. Now, of course, I don’t.
I want Dad to recover. I want him to forgive me for distancing myself, for not understanding he had my best interests at heart. Whether I agree or not, it was because he loves me. In his own way, yes, but he loves me. And I love him.
I quicken my pace. I’m anxious to get to Dad’s ward. I don’t want to waste any more time. Time is precious, there’s never enough time.
Walking into the small ward, I glance across at the other beds. All three are empty. Only Dad is in the ICU. A nurse sits at the desk writing up notes. She looks up and gives a smile of acknowledgement.
Mum and Fiona are sitting either side of Dad’s bed. They look tired. I guess by the inactivity that nothing has changed over the course of the afternoon.
‘I closed a bit early. The café was quiet. How is he?’ I ask approaching the bed. As I do, his leg jerks. I look at Mum and Fiona. ‘Did you see that?’
‘He’s done that a few times now,’ says Mum. ‘It’s a good sign. Involuntary movement. It means he’s not in such a deep coma.’
I latch onto her words. Coma. He’s still in a coma.
Fiona pats the chair next to her. ‘Come and sit down,’ she says. ‘The next twenty-four hours are crucial. The sooner he comes round, the better.’
‘What about any long-term…’ I search for the right word. ‘What’s the long-term prognosis?’
‘They won’t be able to tell properly until Dad’s conscious,’ says Fiona.
The speed at which my feelings towards Dad align themselves with him surprises me and I settle into the chair at his bedside as I get used to this new emotion.
I must have nodded off, which is quite a feat given the hardness of the plastic chair, when I’m woken by Fiona tugging on my arm.
There’s a flurry of activity as Mum calls the nurse over.
Dad’s arms are flailing around. His eyes flutter open and then close again. I can see lots of REM behind his eyelids and he lets out an indistinguishable sound from the back of his throat.
His eyes come open again, this time for a bit longer, but he struggles to focus.
‘Jim. Hello, Jim,’ says the nurse, leaning towards him. ‘Can you hear me?’
Dad’s eyes hold her gaze for a moment before they roll back and his lids droop. They are in a half-open, half-closed state.
The nurse assures us this is normal and he could have several episodes like this. He is, after all, coming round from a very deep sleep. Each time he’ll be able to stay awake for longer.
‘I’ll be right here,’ she says, going back to her desk. ‘Just talk gently to him each time he comes round. I’ll let the doctor know.’
Her smile reassures me. It’s routine to her. Nothing she’s not expecting.
While we sit watching Dad breathe in and breathe out, now and again accompanied by little jerks or movements of his body, I think of Roisin.
‘Did Fiona tell you about Roisin?’ I ask Mum.
‘Yes, she did,’ says Mum. ‘Sure, she’ll turn up safe and sound.’
‘Diana’s been sedated,’ I say. The similarity of Diana and my father’s situation is not wasted on me.
‘Lucky her,’ says Mum. It’s an out-of-character comment. I shoot a look at Fiona, who shrugs, a look of surprise on her face.
‘I thought Roisin would have turned up by now,’ I say. ‘I mean, it must be getting on for twenty-four hours now. Have you heard from Sean if they’ve found her yet?’
‘No, nothing at all. He phoned me earlier to say that he would probably have to work late,’ says Fiona. ‘They’re extending the search. I think she’s officially missing now.’
‘God, I hope she’s okay,’ I say. ‘Despite everything, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ says Mum. ‘Will you listen to yourselves?’ Both Fiona and I jump at the outburst from Mum. I look over at the nurse, who raises her head but returns to her paperwork.
‘Mum…’ says Fiona.
‘No, don’t Mum me. That girl is trouble and don’t you two pretend she’s not. Sitting there all concerned for her.’ Mum leans forwards over the bed. ‘I don’t care if I never see that girl again. That Marshall family have brought nothing but trouble to us. What goes around, comes around, I say.’ She sits back in her chair, folding her arms and maintaining a defiant look.
‘You can’t be saying things like that,’ says Fiona. ‘Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?’
‘No. No, I don’t want a cup of tea. Don’t patronise me,’ says Mum. The anger is still in her voice. ‘You think I’m a silly old woman who doesn’t know anything. Well, I tell you now. I know everything.’
Goosebumps prick the back of my neck. Fiona’s face is pale, as I’m sure mine is too.
‘What do you mean?’ I have to ask. I have to know if she means what I think she does.
Her eyes soften. The muscles in her face and neck relax. Her shoulders sag and she lets out a sigh. I hold my breath as I wait for her to speak.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says at last. ‘Take no notice of me. I’m a bit tired. Saying things I don’t mean. What is it you say these days? Having a mini melt-down.’ She takes Dad’s hand in hers and strokes it. ‘Don’t you two be worrying now, do you hear me? I’ve got it all under control.’
The goosebumps extend across my shoulders and down my arms. What exactly does she have under control? Herself? Is that what she means? It’s certainly what I want her to mean, but somehow I don’t think it is.
Dad hasn’t
woken again and seems to have settled down. The doctor has been to visit and concludes that he’s now in a normal sleep, as indicated by the NREM and EEG readings.
‘He looks very calm,’ says Fiona. ‘Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea with me?’
‘I don’t want to leave him alone,’ says Mum.
‘Erin will stay with Dad.’
‘Yes, you go, Mum,’ I say.
Reluctantly, Mum agrees and leaves the room with Fiona. I take the opportunity to rearrange the chairs and plump up the cushion Mum has brought in from home. A welcome relief from the hard, plastic chair seats.
As I slide one of the chairs over to pick up a tissue from the floor, Mum’s handbag, which is resting on the seat, topples over. Several items fall from the unzipped bag, scattering across the tiled floor.
I mutter a curse under my breath as I drop to my hands and knees to retrieve the items. A lipstick. A packet of tissues. Mobile phone. A key.
I scoop up the items and slip them into the bag. I stop as a gold key slides down my palm. My fingers curl and catch it before it can fall back into the depths of the black-leather handbag.
I open my fingers and study the key in the palm of my hand. It hasn’t been attached to the small bunch of keys Mum usually carries around with her, but I know exactly which lock it fits.
It’s the safe key.
The key that Mum has claimed not to have.
Why is she lying about it?
I make a snap decision. I zip up the bag and replace it on the chair. The gold key, I poke into the front pocket of my jeans.
‘You okay?’ Fiona’s voice makes me jump. I spin round as my sister and mother come back onto the ward.
‘Yes, fine,’ I say, tagging a smile on the end. I glance at my watch. ‘I suppose I had better get back. Early start and all that. What are you doing, Mum? Are you coming back with us?’
‘No, I’ll stay the night, just in case,’ she says, settling herself into the chair.
I feel guilty as a small wave of relief washes over me. It’s wrong to be pleased Mum is staying at the hospital tonight, sat hunched in an uncomfortable hospital chair. However, it gives me the ideal opportunity to look inside the safe.