by Clare Revell
Daphne nodded. “Sure. Hey, Niamh, how are you doing?”
“OK.”
“That’s good. We’ve all been praying hard for you. That was some car crash.”
“I don’t remember it.”
“Sometimes that can be a blessing in disguise.” Daphne smiled and looked at Jared. “What can I do for you?”
“Could we see the marriage register? Assuming you have a copy of it here?”
“To see your entry? Of course. We have all the books going back years.” She headed towards the vestry at the front of the church.
Jared waited for Niamh and walked with her. By the time they reached the vestry, Daphne had taken the book from the safe and opened it to the right place.
Niamh stood there and looked down at it. “It’s my signature,” she said quietly.
Jared nodded. “Your dad and my best man, Danny, witnessed it. Liam and Patrick were ushers and you had your friends Tina and Vanessa as bridesmaids.”
“What happened to them? Do they still live around here?”
“No. Tina lives in Scotland and Vanessa married a soldier and they currently live in Italy where he’s stationed.”
“Was the wedding filmed?”
Jared caught his breath. “Yes, but we lost that in the fire, too. I think your parents have a copy.” He saw the look on her face. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Niamh adopted the lawyer face he knew so well. “What am I thinking?”
“That all this is very convenient. Why would I lie about something like this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I have to take everything with a pinch of salt right now, or because as a lawyer I’m used to having evidence to back things up with. I wish I could remember this, but I don’t. I’m sorry. This isn’t easy, you know. Having everyone else tell me stuff I’ve no recollection of at all. You could be making it all up for all I know. Perhaps I’m part of some huge conspiracy—like that film years ago where the woman lost her memory and this bloke decided to cash in on it and claimed her as his wife.”
“Well I’m not like him. Are you painting Liam and the rest of your family with the same brush?”
“I—I don’t know.”
He reached out and put a hand on her arm, her broken tone stabbing at his heart. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was thoughtless and unkind.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“I promise you that record isn’t false. That’s a crime. You know that.”
Niamh nodded slowly.
Jared looked at Daphne. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“We will. Come on; best not keep your parents waiting. They even persuaded Patrick to come for lunch, too.”
She followed him into the chapel. “Sounds like that’s impossible.”
“Patrick is married to his job. He works twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”
“I see. A bit like me then.”
“He’s way worse than you are. Sure, at times you can get a little preoccupied with work. Especially the big cases, but it’s what you do and you’re good at it. Which is why you’re in line for a judgeship.”
Niamh stopped, a look of amazement on her face. “Seriously? But I’m only twenty-six.”
“Thirty-six,” Jared corrected as he opened the car door for her. “And even that’s early, but you’re good at what you do. You always have been.” He smiled. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
“Mum’s roasts are always more than enough,” Niamh said smiling. “She usually does ten different types of veggies.”
“Oh yeah. Plus she always does cauliflower cheese, too.”
“Yes. Dad loves that with his roast.”
Jared grinned. “He’s not the only one,” he said as he shut the car door. For a brief moment, the old Niamh was there. He just hoped she’d stay once the whole truth came out.
****
After dinner, more stuffed than the turkey had been, Niamh stood in front of the sideboard looking at the silver gilt photo frames. There were a couple of Liam—one with Jacqui. Another one of him with a blonde woman she didn’t recognize, but assumed from the conversation over lunch was Sally, his first wife. There was one of Jared, his arms wrapped tightly around her. One of Patrick standing under a tree and a really silly one of him she remembered being taken. He was standing on a plinth with an ice cream cone in one hand and a book in the other pretending to be the Statue of Liberty.
Other pictures had them all together. There were graduation photos, wedding photos. Photos of them all when they were kids. Kids…
Maybe this was a way to find out about this pregnancy she remembered.
Niamh turned around. “Mum? Where are the photos of the grandchildren?”
The babbling conversation behind her stopped dead, and her mother looked distinctly flustered before she answered. “We don’t have any grandchildren. Sally died before she and Liam had any.”
“Oh. And I guess with Patrick not married…”
“Other than to his job,” Liam interrupted.
Patrick grinned. “Some of us have to be. We’ve got to keep the country safe. This is what Niamh does, in her own way.”
“Used to do.”
“You will again. Just don’t go soft on them.”
Niamh nodded slightly. She looked at Jared, pushing the issue. “So were we just too busy to have kids or unable to have them? Eight years is a long time to be married without any.”
“You were concentrating on work for now,” he replied. “You had a lot of cases running at the same time.” He didn’t look at her and from the way he shifted on the chair, Niamh knew he was avoiding telling her the whole truth. She’d been pregnant, she remembered that. Both he and Liam knew and by default, the rest of them would have done as well.
“Too much work to have kids?” she asked. “That doesn’t sound like me. I made a list of names years ago. I wanted six.”
“People change, circumstances change.” He put his cup on the side table with an audible chink.
“I don’t believe you.” She looked back at the photos, then turned back to him. “There’s no way I’d put my career before having children. Nothing is that important. Family matters.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Jared said quietly. “Let’s just accept there are no grandchildren and move on.” He looked at her father. “Did you go to the match yesterday?”
Her father nodded. Was that relief in his eyes at the change of topic? “Yes I did. I don’t think it should have been a penalty though.”
She sat down, deflated as the conversation turned to the injustices of football. Why were Jared and everyone else lying to her? She took the cup Liam offered her and breathed in the heady scent of the cinnamon mixing with the cocoa. She’d just have to find out herself.
****
Once Jared had left for church that evening, Niamh eased up from the couch and moved over to where he’d set her laptop. Whilst that was booting up, she wanted to scour the house. Although why it was called ‘booting up’ she had no idea. Perhaps it had a tendency to break down and therefore needed a kick start.
She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but there must be something. First, she wanted to go and check the rooms upstairs. There was something bothering her about the one she was sleeping in.
Jared had said he’d moved some of his things out, but it was more than that. Ten minutes later, her suspicions confirmed, she headed slowly back down to the lounge. All of Jared’s things were in the spare room. Every last shirt, tie, jumper, hanky and so on. He’d moved out completely and it didn’t look recent either. There was dust around the cufflink box on the dresser in his room.
Sitting at the table, Niamh pulled the laptop towards her. She was supposedly logged in, which had to be a good thing as she had no idea what the password would be. She pulled up the email program and watched as her
inbox began to fill.
A fair amount seemed to be from someone called Alan Reynolds. Opening one she worked out it was from the CPS and therefore work related. From his tone he seemed to be her boss. Strange. The only Alan she remembered was a new guy just transferred in from another county. She fired off a quick reply, grateful for the huge send button which made this whole newfangled way of communicating so much easier.
One entitled divorce query caught her eye. The sender was listed as Jack Chambers. Pastor Jack? What would he want with a divorce query? The CPS didn’t handle those. And why would he want a divorce anyway? She opened it.
“Niamh, as regards your query, I’d ask you to read First Corinthians chapter seven.
I know you and Jared are having problems, but I would urge the two of you to pray long and hard before you divorce each other. My offer of counseling remains. Or, if either of you are uncomfortable coming to see me, I can suggest a good marriage guidance counselor. Either way I will keep you both in my prayers. God bless. Jack.”
The words almost threw her from her seat. She had to read them several times before the pounding in her ears subsided.
Shock resonated through her. She read the words again.
“I don’t understand. Why would we be living in the same house if things were bad enough for me to start thinking divorce?” Niamh pushed up and moved over to the mantelpiece, picking up the photos, one by one. There was one of her in a black gown and a wig, must have been taken in court at some point. There was one of Jared in his fireproof clothing and another of him in his dress uniform.
But there were none of the two of them together. This is so frustrating. The doctors said there was nothing wrong, but there must be. OK, think. Where would I put something to keep it safe?
Slowly she sat on the floor in front of the sideboard, her plastered leg outstretched in front of her and her other leg curled underneath. She set the crutches against the sideboard and pulled open the cupboards. Piles of dishes met her gaze.
Niamh ducked her head and ran her fingers along the back of the shelf. She pulled out a shoe box full of photos in frames. Jared stood in his dress uniform with his arms around her. She was wearing a white wedding gown, veil, and lifting her skirts to show off a blue garter. She looked so happy. She recognized Liam in a frock coat and Patrick next to him. She had no idea who the man standing next to Jared was. He was also a firefighter judging by the uniform.
In the other picture she and Jared stood kissing under an arch made of firefighter’s axes. “Why don’t I remember this? Ten years of my life just gone in the blink of an eye. And why did he tell me there weren’t any photos, when there quite obviously are.”
Niamh set those down and pulled out a triptych, tucked at the bottom of the box. The gilt frame contained three pictures. The first one was of her, obviously very pregnant, with Jared standing behind her. His arms lay protectively over her belly. The second was a picture of her holding a very tiny baby, Jared on the bed next to her. The baby looked newborn and she was in what looked like a hospital bed. The third showed a little girl probably about two or three. Bright blue eyes and a wide smile showing a missing tooth, flyaway hair pulled into bunches on either side of her head.
Tears sprung to her eyes and an overwhelming sense of loss filled her. Who was she? Where was she? If she hadn’t lost the baby and had given birth to a child, why hadn’t Jared or Liam said anything? And why the insistence this afternoon that there were no grandchildren—although they’d changed the subject quickly enough. She couldn’t ring Jared at church, but he’d be home soon enough. She’d ask him then. And she wanted answers.
She looked down at the photo again, seeing the child in her mind, playing on a swing. “Higher Mummy, I want to fly with the birds and the angels.”
****
Jared unlocked the door and let himself in. The house was quiet and in darkness. “Niamh?” he called. He hung his coat in the hallway and tossed his keys onto the tray. His footsteps echoed down the hallway and he pushed doors open checking for her. “Niamh, are you still up?”
Reaching the kitchen, he pushed open the door. Niamh was sat at the table, her back rigid. He smiled at her. “Hey, how are you?”
Niamh looked at him, a mixture of anger and incredible sadness in her eyes. “Fine.” Anger filled her stilted voice.
The smiled died on his lips. Whoa, what have I done?
“How was your evening?” he tried again. “What did you do?”
Niamh shrugged. “Read my email. Explored the house some. Found nothing of yours in what is meant to be ‘our’ room.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe some things are best forgotten.”
A double edged sword pierced his heart and soul. “Not everything, Niamh. Some things are too painful to deal with sometimes, but we can’t forget. I’ll fill in any of the gaps you want.”
“OK, fine.” She reached under the table and brought out the triptych and held it out to him. “You can start by telling me about her. She’s obviously my daughter. Where is she? Why haven’t you mentioned her before? Why are there no toys or any sign of her anywhere? And why was everyone lying to me this afternoon and saying there were no grandchildren, when I’ve had a child and these photos prove it?”
9
Niamh set the triptych down on the table where he could see it. She glanced at Jared to see the color drain from his face. His tongue moved over his lips nervously and his hands shook as he clenched them.
Lord, help me here. Don’t let me say the wrong thing and upset him more, she whispered. Although how could I possibly make this bad situation any worse?
He looked awful. The grief radiating from him almost palpable as he slumped in the chair opposite her, his hands twisted in front of him. His eyes glistened. “Her name was Dayna. She was three when that photo was taken. She looked just like you, had the same mannerisms. She’d sing all the time, play dress-up and dolls. Her favorite game was putting on a long black dress and saying she was going to work to lock up the bad guys so they wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore. She wanted to be a barrister like you.”
“What happened?” She could see the child on the swing again and a small white coffin.
“The fire was almost two years ago. Twenty two months to be precise. It was Christmas Eve. We’d had a busy day, what with food shopping and visiting your parents for dinner. Dayna was over excited and hadn’t gone to bed very early or easily. Eventually you convinced her that Father Christmas wouldn’t come if she wasn’t in bed and asleep. We’d gone to bed soon after she did, and left the fire in the lounge to go out by itself. Something we’d done a hundred times if not more. The fireguard was up and nothing should have happened. But it was a very windy night and the chimney caught fire. Something must have dislodged and fallen into the fireplace, knocking over the fireguard. It was an old house and burned quickly.”
Tears spilled from his eyes and down his cheeks as he spoke. “The smoke alarm woke me. I could hear her screaming. I woke you and told you to get out while I went to get her.”
Niamh’s hand covered her mouth, tears filling her own eyes.
“I took you to the top of the stairs and you went down them and outside to call for help. Dayna’s room was next to the chimney, further along the landing. It was a scene from hell. There were flames everywhere, the air full of thick choking smoke. Dayna stood in the middle of the room, screaming my name and begging me to come and get her. I called to her, but she was too scared to move. As I went into the room to get her, the floor she was standing on gave way.”
Niamh whimpered, seeing it happen in her mind’s eye as he spoke. Rivers of tears ran down her cheeks, huge sobs welled up within her and spilled from her uncontrollably.
“There was nothing I could do. I ran downstairs and into the lounge wanting to find her, but the place was an inferno. The blokes had to drag me out when they arrived. They didn’t find her body until the fire was out.” He looked over at her and stretched out a hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Niamh ignored him, pushing up from the table. Balancing on the crutches, she left the room as quickly as possible, heading for the bathroom. Barely making it in time, she leant over the sink, heaving and retching.
****
Jared sat in the kitchen, not bothering to stop the tears from falling onto the triptych in his hands. Dayna’s screams and the way she looked at him was something he’d remember until the day he died. He’d refused to let Niamh see her charred body.
Losing his only daughter had made him a little more, not exactly reckless, but more likely to take that extra risk in a fire if someone were trapped. He put his life and soul into his job. No other parent should ever have to go through what he and Niamh had.
He reached for the phone, and then shook his head. He’d try to comfort her first and if she didn’t want it, if she blamed him like she had done every single day since the fire, then he’d call Liam. He stood and headed into the hall. The door to the downstairs bathroom opened and he looked at Niamh as she came out. The same hollow, gaunt look that he knew so well was back. “Hon…” he whispered.
“I don’t…” She broke off in another sea of tears.
“Niamh, I really tried to get to her. I promise.” Tears streaked his face. “If I could have died in her place I would have.”
He moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened and he pulled back. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“You lied to me. You all lied to me. You, Mum, Patrick, Liam. You all sat there and told me I didn’t have children. But I did and she’s gone and I don’t even remember her.”
His heart broke again. He’d made the wrong decision and things had just gotten worse. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to tell you about her?”
“No! I want you to leave.” Sparks flew from her eyes, her distraught voice tinged with anger. “Just get out.”