by T. M. Payne
“Where are you going?” Marilyn frowned and stroked Scruffy’s back.
“There’s some signed papers in my bedside cabinet, it’s stuff to do with the house, I thought your daughter could move in, you said she looked at this place before I bought it, well she can live here now, but you have to promise me that you’ll look after Scruffy.” Catherine could hold her tears no more.
Marilyn reached over and took Catherine’s hand, “What do you mean? Catherine, are you ill?” Her voice was low and she began to cry.
“No, I’m not ill, but I probably won’t be back, I haven’t got time to explain it all, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re really worrying me Catherine.” Marilyn squeezed Catherine’s hand tighter “Where are you going, and what do you mean you’re not coming back? I don’t understand.” Marilyn was shaking.
“Just promise me Marilyn, promise me you’ll look after him.”
“Catherine, you’re not making any sense.” Marilyn rubbed her thumbs across the back of Catherine’s hand. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“I only ask that you don’t hate me, you’re my close friend and I don’t want you to hate me.” Catherine pulled her hand away and stubbed out her cigarette.
“Why on earth would I hate you?”
Catherine looked at her, “You just might.”
“I’ll look after Scruffy, you know I will.” Marilyn said quietly, reassuringly. “I promise.” She said.
“Will you wait with me until they come?” Catherine felt nauseas.
“Until who comes?”
“I think the police may want to speak to me.”
“The police? What on earth is going on?”
“Please just wait with me, I just can’t explain it now, there’s no time. I have information that they need.”
Marilyn searched Catherine’s face, as if the longer she stared at her the more an answer would come. “Who is it that you visit in the cemetery Catherine?” She asked, making Catherine look up. “I’ve seen you there, I know you go there every day, I presumed it was the woman you loved.”
Catherine looked down, “No, it’s not her.”
“I won’t hate you Catherine, whatever it is, I know I won’t hate you, you’re a wonderful person and I’m sure you’ll explain all of this one day.” Marilyn stroked Scruffy, “You can tell me you know, you can tell me what it is.”
“I don’t have time.” Catherine finally said, “I don’t have time to, they’ll be here soon.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE
Stevie pulled up outside the police station and got out of the car, she walked up the steps to the main doors and stepped inside, the Public Enquiry office was tiny and smelt musty. She rang the little bell on the counter and waited, looking round at the posters pinned neatly around the walls, warning posters about keeping your car locked, crime prevention advice, contact numbers to report domestic violence in confidence.
“Can I help you?” A woman dressed smartly in a blue uniform with silver epaulets appeared at the glass screen.
Stevie walked over to her, “I need to speak to someone about a train crash.” As Stevie said the words, she felt awkward and ridiculous.
“You’ll have to speak up, can you speak into the microphone please?”
Stevie looked down and noticed the tiny microphone poking up from the counter, she leaned over it. “I need to speak to someone about a train crash that happened years ago.”
CHAPTER NINETY
Catherine looked at the clock, ten past five, she looked at Marilyn. Neither spoke. Marilyn had insisted on waiting with Catherine. The hours were passing slowly and agonisingly for them. Marilyn had fed Scruffy, who was sound asleep on Catherine’s bed. Catherine had packed what she thought she would be allowed to take with her. She had carefully planned for this and was confident that she had everything covered. Everything except how she would feel.
As the time had passed them by Marilyn realised that Catherine was not going to explain what was going on, and so Marilyn let it be. Her mind was full of questions, full of different scenarios, full of confusion, but she respected and trusted Catherine enough to believe there was good reason for her silence.
The knock on the door seemed to echo through the house and made them both jump, Catherine stood up and Marilyn grabbed hold of her, they hugged each other tightly, both holding onto tears. Catherine went to walk to the door but her legs wouldn’t take her there. “Sit down, I’ll get it.” Marilyn sat her down, held onto her shoulders for a moment and then walked to the front door.
Catherine stood up, her hands shook and she quickly wiped her hand over her face, she heard quiet voices and took a deep breath, Scruffy Boy drifted into her head and the thought again crossed her mind that she would never see him again, maybe it was a good thing that he was upstairs. She bowed her head and held onto the back of the chair.
She looked up as footsteps entered the room, Stevie came in first and looked at her before stepping towards the table, Catherine’s grip on the chair tightened as she felt her heart crashing inside her chest, then she looked past Stevie, past her and straight into the eyes of Helen.
Marilyn stood in the hallway for a moment, unsure of what to do before following Helen into the room. She hovered near the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her, completely confused about what the hell was going on.
Stevie walked around Helen, who was looking wide eyed at Catherine, and pulled out a chair, “I think we all need to sit down.” She said. No-one moved.
Catherine finally looked at her through her tears, “What’s going on?” She asked, her voice broken.
“Let’s all sit shall we?” Stevie said again, sitting first. In total control.
Helen followed, sitting opposite Catherine, without taking their eyes off of each other. Marilyn stayed where she was. “Would you like me to go?” She looked at Catherine, then to Stevie. Neither answered.
Marilyn remained still, silent.
“I went to the police.” Stevie spoke looking at all three women in turn. “I went there to tell them what happened and while I was waiting for someone to come and speak to me I remembered something someone said to me the other day.’ Stevie sighed, “She told me to make sure that something good comes out of all of this.” She looked at Catherine. “And I realised that if I told the police everything then that wouldn’t happen. There’s been too much heartache already, too much pain and too much loss. This was the only way that something good could come out of it.” She looked at Marilyn, who was standing, quietly bemused.
“Has she told you?” She asked. Marilyn shook her head, “No.” She said, shaking her head as if to emphasise the truth in her answer.
Marilyn looked at Catherine hoping for a signal to stay, or a signal to go, but Catherine didn’t look at her and so she quietly left the room. Closing the front door behind her, she paused. And at that moment she made a conscious decision that she should never know what it was that was being spoken of this night.
Stevie looked at Catherine, “Helen still lives in the same house, that’s where I found her.” She sighed, “The only reason I’ve decided that this is the best way, is because I actually believe that you two have probably spent the last eighteen years wondering when the knock on the door was going to come, and I believe that you haven’t seen each other since.” Stevie felt her face flush and swallowed. “So, what happens now?” She put her hands flat on the table and looked at Helen. “I just need to know that this hasn’t been a huge mistake, me bringing you here.” Her eyes remained fixed on Helen. “You see, I’m going to have to keep this whole thing a secret, we all are, and I need to know that if I’m going to lie to my family then it’s because it’s the only thing and the right thing to do. No one will ever understand this decision, because it’s not just about me or about what I’ve lost, I’ve got grandparents who have lost their children, their son and daughter and their grandson and I’m going to have to go home and tell them that I didn’t find Frank Samuels, that I found nothing and
gave up on the whole thing and they’re going to find that pretty hard to believe, because I’m not like that you see, I’m pigheaded and determined.” She paused.
“Only do what you’re doing if you really believe that it’s right.” Helen spoke, “I don’t expect you to lie to your family and I also don’t want you to go home carrying this with you, you’re eighteen years old, we can’t expect you to protect us.” She glanced at Catherine. “Can we?”
“No.” Catherine shook her head. Momentarily realising how terribly strange it was to hear Helen’s voice again.
“I’ve only heard your side of the story about Frank, I don’t know if you’re even telling me the truth about him, I don’t know, maybe he was a good guy and you killed him to get the house.” Stevie looked down at her hands, “But I do believe you, and I believe that you two have pretty much lost eighteen years of your lives when who knows, if things had turned out differently maybe you could have been happy together.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, “Maybe you still can be.” She rubbed her eyes and sat back.
“What do you want us to do?” Catherine leant forward, she wanted to put her arms around Stevie who looked so small, so young and heavy hearted, carrying the weight of the world upon her shoulders, carrying the weight of what had happened, the responsibility of all their lives upon her. But she remained sitting, waiting patiently for a response.
Stevie put her head in her hands and swallowed, she cried openly and unashamedly and it was Helen who placed an arm around her shoulder, Helen who held her until she regained her composure. “I want you to make the last eighteen years mean something, don’t let everything that’s happened be a waste, make sure something good comes out of it.” Stevie pushed herself back and stood up. “We should never see each other again, I don’t want you contacting me or my family, either of you. And I don’t want you going to the cemetery anymore. You’ve found me now, you don’t need to go there anymore. You don’t have the right to go there.”
Catherine nodded slowly, her hands were shaking and she held them together.
“I’m going to go now.” She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, “Just promise me that I’ve done the right thing, that something good will come out of this.” She waited until Catherine answered.
“I promise.” Catherine stood up, “I don’t know what to say.” She looked Stevie in the eye. “I’m so sorry…”
Stevie cut in, “I know you are but sorry won’t put everything right will it?”
“No, it won’t.” Catherine agreed, almost saying it again before checking herself.
Stevie walked over to the window and bit her lip, “Do you know what’s pissing me off more than anything?” She didn’t wait for a response, “I wish more than anything that I had found what I came here for, I wish I had found Frank bloody Samuels, alive, and I could go to the police and my family could see justice done.” She turned around, glaring at Helen, “You took that away from me.” She leant back against the worktop, Catherine looked around at her, to face her. Stevie’s voice rang with anger, “Instead I listen to your story and I realise that you’re, apart from what you did, you’re a good person, you’re good people who didn’t deserve to have to hide away what you felt for each other and now, again, I’ve got this shit dropped at my feet and again I have to deal with it. The thing is, I can’t see what would be gained by getting you two sent to prison.”
For a moment, no-one spoke. No-one moved. Stevie’s jaw tightened, she inhaled slowly, letting her fury drain from her. Calm, she walked back towards the table. “You have a chance now, don’t waste it. I know you want me to say that I forgive you because then you can feel better about yourselves, I don’t know if forgiveness is the right word but I don’t hate you, either of you, even though I should.”
“Is there anything we can do to make this any easier, I mean, like you said you’ve had all this left at your feet, it’s so much to ask of someone…” Catherine ran her hand through her hair and hesitated, “You owe us nothing and we owe you everything.”
Stevie shook her head and pushed her chair in under the table. “No, just stay away from me and my family.” And with that, she left.
Catherine carried on looking at Helen. She was still beautiful, although the eighteen years since she last saw her had aged her cruelly. She was painfully thin and her eyes had lost their sparkle. Her hair was beginning to grey, but it was still Helen. Still her Helen.
She reached her hand across the table and closed her eyes, bowing her head as she felt Helen’s hand slip into hers. Tears again welled in her eyes.
“I’ve missed you.” She whispered.
“I’ve missed you too.” Helen’s voice was equally low; her hand squeezed Catherine’s tightly.
“So, you still live in the house?” Catherine looked up at her.
“I had no choice.”
“I came back for you that night, after the accident, I saw the police car and thought you’d called them.” Catherine wiped her eyes.
“I didn’t call them, they came there when they realised it was Frank’s Landrover that caused the crash. I saw them pulling up to the house and initially I thought you’d called them. I ran out the back way and went to my parents’ house.” Helen put her head to one side.
“I want you to know that I would have got you away from there if it hadn’t have happened. I’ve thought about you every single day, for all those years, I thought about you and missed you.” Catherine said.
“You never met anyone else?” Helen looked away, scared of the answer.
“No, no-one, I could never be with anyone else.” Catherine pulled gently on Helen’s hand to make her look up “I love you, I’ve always loved you Helen.”
‘I love you too.” Helen closed her eyes. “What if she changes her mind?”
“What do you mean?” Catherine inhaled slowly, deliberately, “You mean Stevie?”
“Yes.” Helen opened her eyes and looked into Catherine’s. “She could change her mind, maybe not now but in a few weeks, months, years even, we’ll never really be free to live a life will we?”
“Perhaps she will, maybe I don’t deserve this second chance.”
“We.” Helen interjected.
“No, me, I was the one that killed her family Helen, not you.”
“We were in this together from the start, from the second I killed Frank and you came over to my house, we were equally a part of what happened to Stevie’s family. It’s irrelevant who was driving, you wouldn’t have had to drive anywhere if I hadn’t killed him. We’re equally to blame.”
Catherine stood up, “I need a drink, would you like one?” She reached for her cigarettes.
“Yeah, a big one.” Helen leant back in her chair and looked around the room as Catherine poured out two hefty Gin and tonics.
“What do you want to do?” Catherine asked her without looking round.
“What do you mean?”
“Now, what do want to do, do you want to be with me?” Catherine looked out of the window.
“Yes, I want to be with you.” Helen pushed her chair back and stood up, walking over to Catherine. She wrapped her arms around her waist and leant her head on her back. “Of course I want to be with you.”
Catherine turned around and they held each other closely, before their lips touched. A kiss that had waited for eighteen years.
Scruffy Boy tip toed into the room and brushed his head against Helen’s leg, making her jump.
“Oh, this is Scruffy Boy.” Catherine smiled, kiss interrupted.
Helen bent down and stroked Scruffy’s head, “Hello Scruffy Boy.” She too smiled, “What’s his real name?”
“Scruffy Boy is his real name.”
“Oh.” Helen grinned and raised her eyebrows.
Scruffy Boy meowed a request, or rather more a demand, for his dinner which was unacceptably late.
As Helen and Catherine sat at the table talking, Scruffy lay stretched out before them, every now and then waking, checking t
hey were still there before reassuming his position and drifting back to sleep.
CHAPTER NINETY ONE
Stevie pulled up to the cemetery gates which were closed, she sat in her car and leant on the steering wheel. She thought about Catherine and Helen and the choice she had made. Had she done the right thing? Catherine had appeared to her to have already served a prison sentence, being away from the woman she’d loved for all those years, living in a house for nine years and never unpacking, never being able to settle down. Catherine had served a sentence and Helen too. Living in a house with her dead husband buried in the yard, not being able to move on, in case the new tenants decided to build an extension or the pet dog got curious.
She thought about her family back on the Island which suddenly seemed a million miles from her now, she thought about what she would tell them. The lies. Had she made the right decision? Her family would never know that Frank Samuels actually had got what he had coming to him but not for the reasons they thought. But they would go to their graves never knowing that, they would spend the rest of their days believing that he was out there somewhere, alive, walking around doing whatever he was doing, when the innocent ones were dead and gone. But Frank Samuels wasn’t the killer they thought he was. He was a shit bag who had nothing to do with the deaths of Stevie’s family.
Stevie’s heart began to race. What the hell had she done? Should she have taken more time to make her choice? Had she let the guilty go, opened the door for them to simply walk away from their unforgivable crime?
She thought about Laura and the feeling of guilt she had experienced at the time overwhelmed her again. She leant back against the headrest and felt her eyes fill with tears. Laura’s life could and probably would be so different now. How much would her condition affect her? Would she ever drive a car? Would she be limited in what job she could get? Would she spend her life on medication? Stevie wiped her face. She was not blameless, she had made a choice and Laura had paid for it. A moment of madness. Choices and consequences.