Last lullaby

by Alice Walsh

  Lauren was approaching Emma’s house when her phone rang again. This time it was Emma. Probably wondering where I am, Lauren thought as she answered.

  “Lauren,” Emma said in a strangled voice, “I have some bad news.”

  Chapter 18

  “Bad news?” Lauren felt panic building in the pit of her stomach. “Bailey?”

  “No, no,” Emma assured her. “Bailey’s fine.”

  Lauren’s body went limp with relief.

  “I hate to tell you this, Lauren, but The Hawk found out about Nelson vs. Little and your suspended license.”

  Lauren let out her breath. “Oh god,” she said. “I should have prepared for this. I just left Anya’s house. I’ll be there shortly.”

  By the time Lauren pulled into Emma’s driveway, her mind was in turmoil. If it’s not one thing, it’s something else, she thought. She should have got in front of the story like Claire suggested. Her stomach was churning as she got out of the car.

  Emma met Lauren at the door, and gave her a quick hug. “Ah, damn, girl, I’m sorry. Looks like the creep went and done it again.”

  “I should have expected it,” Lauren said. She followed Emma into the kitchen, where a copy of the Sunday Daily News lay on the table. On the front page in block letters ran the headline: Claire Ste Denis’s Defense Lawyer Involved in Unlawful and Shady Conduct. With shaking hands, Lauren picked up the newspaper. Not only had Coleman resurrected the story, but he’d managed to make it about Claire. She scanned the article, words and phrases jumping out at her. License suspended. Bribery charges. Breach of confidentiality. Not fit to practice. Coleman had interviewed Greg Nelson, the former client who’d brought the charges against her. “Patty and I were in love,” he was quoted as saying. “If it wasn’t for LaVallee we might still be together. The woman is evil.” Lauren put down the paper, feeling sick to her stomach.

  Emma came to stand beside her. “Are you okay? We can postpone the play if you like. It’s on all next week, sure.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Lauren glanced at her watch. “We should get going if we want to get there on time.”

  They drove in silence for nearly thirty minutes, Lauren deep in thought. She realized how little Emma, or any of her friends, knew about the case. The shame Lauren felt ran so deep that she’d never been able to share the full story with even her closest friend. And after everything Emma and I went through together, she thought now.

  When Lauren first arrived in Paddy’s Arm, she had never felt so alone in her life. Claire had introduced her to Emma, who was also single and pregnant. Emma had broken off her relationship with André, Dylan’s father, a few weeks before she found out she was pregnant. It was perhaps because of their similar situation that a strong bond had developed between Emma and Lauren. They had often shared their concerns about being single parents, shopped for baby clothes and furniture, and spent hours talking about cribs, strollers, and breastfeeding. They pored over baby magazines, clipping articles on nutrition, parenting, and toys suitable for infants. Both wanted girls and were overjoyed with the results of their sonograms. But whether they had boys or girls, names had already been decided. Emma was set on Dylan after Dylan Thomas, her favourite poet. Lauren chose Bailey after a male cousin she was close to.

  Lauren silently stared out the window at the passing scenery. Long sections of forest were punctuated by picturesque coves and inlets. A tall lighthouse stood on a rocky cliff. She recalled how happy Emma had been after she’d gotten back with André. He had been offered a job in Ottawa and Emma and Dylan went with him. Although Lauren had missed them terribly, by this time she was teaching and busy taking care of her new baby. When Dylan was still a toddler, André was killed during a home invasion. The incident had shaken Emma to the core, and she’d immediately moved back to Paddy’s Arm.

  “A penny for your thoughts, Lauren,” Emma said now.

  Lauren turned to look at her. “Emma, I never really told you the full details of Nelson vs. Little,” she said. “You only know the bare facts.”

  “I’ve read the article,” Emma said, “and I can’t believe some of the things you were accused of.” She turned to look at her. “I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted to put all of that behind you.”

  “It’s not something I’ve wanted to rehash,” Lauren admitted, “but I think it’s time I told you what really happened.”

  Emma nodded.

  “Right after university, I worked as a public defender,” Lauren began. “It was good for the most part. I was able to give a voice to the wrongly accused. I defended people who were in danger of falling through the cracks. However, I also had my share of child abusers, wife beaters, and murder suspects. Some of them I simply couldn’t stand, but I had no choice but to take them on.”

  “You’re not required to like the people you have to defend.”

  “True,” Lauren agreed. “Even the vilest among us is entitled to a fair trial. I was at the firm less than a year when I was handed Nelson vs. Little. Greg Nelson, thirty-six, was charged with assaulting his twenty-one-year-old girlfriend, Patty Little.” Lauren shook her head. “I disliked Nelson from the start. He was always angry, it seemed. One day he came into my office in a rage. He was so mad he was foaming at the mouth. ‘I’d like to kill that little bitch,’ he told me. He often bragged about beating up a younger stepsister. You can imagine how I feared for his girlfriend’s safety.”

  “Wouldn’t that be reason enough to forfeit attorney-client privilege?”

  “Nelson said he’d like to kill her, not that he was going to kill her,” Lauren clarified. “A couple of evenings later, Patty came to my office. She was very upset.” Lauren paused, recalling the wisp of a girl with pale features who showed up, her face a mass of bruises. “‘You’re defending a monster,’ she said. ‘Look what the son of a bitch did to me. If he gets away with this, he’ll kill me.’ Patty then told me she’d been receiving threatening phone calls, and she believed it was Nelson. She was afraid to go home.”

  Emma waited.

  “I suggested she go to a motel,” Lauren continued, “but she had no money.” She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I should have shooed her away, told her I couldn’t talk with her. Instead I gave her money for a motel, warned her to be careful. I let it slip that he beat his stepsister too.” Lauren shook her head. “As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. That was a clear violation of attorney-client privilege.”

  “Word got back to Nelson?”

  “Yeah,” Lauren said grimly. “A week later he and Patty got back together. Nelson filed a complaint with the barrister’s society. I was accused not only of breaching attorney-client privilege but of bribing the plaintiff to keep silent. No doubt Patty was coached by Nelson, maybe even coerced. There was a hearing. The bribery charges were dropped, but I was charged with breach of confidence.”

  Emma touched Lauren’s arm. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “I’m worried about my clients at Beck Hayes,” Lauren admitted. “I’m afraid of losing their trust.” She looked down at her hands. “And I hate that they made the story about Claire.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Emma said, loyally. “And I’m sure Claire will understand.”

  “I hope so,” Lauren said. “But let’s not talk about it anymore. Let’s try to enjoy the ride and the beautiful scenery.”

  “It doesn’t get much better than this,” Emma said, gesturing through the window. They had moved into an area of jagged cliffs and headlands. Offshore islands could be seen in the distance. Every couple of miles they passed little fishing villages filled with wharfs and boats and lobster traps.

  “So much natural beauty,” Lauren said, drinking it all in. For a little while, at least, she tried to forget the unpleasant things happening in her life.

  —

  After the performance, Lauren and Emma
stopped to have coffee and bagels outside a café on Duckworth Street. The weather had unexpectedly turned warm and the mild day had brought people out of their homes. Couples strolled arm in arm. Families with children and dogs walked past the café. Young mothers pushed babies and toddlers in strollers.

  Lauren leaned back in her chair and blew out her breath. There was something else Emma needed to know. “I got a call from Stella Roberts this morning.”

  “Jade’s mother?”

  Lauren nodded. “She’s very concerned about Jade and Cara. She thinks someone in the drama department might have her granddaughter.” She told her about the loan Jade’s mother had mentioned.

  Emma stared at her. “Frances and Annabelle?”

  “There does seem to be an air of secrecy around Dinah Marie’s adoption.”

  “I hope Jade wasn’t coerced into anything.”

  A brief silence passed between the women as they considered this.

  “I’m going to visit Annabelle and Frances next week,” Lauren said.

  “They invited you to their home?”

  “No, I wasn’t invited. I’m going to”—Lauren made air quotes—“‘just happen’ to be in Deep River. I’ll drop by with gifts for the baby.”

  “Sneaky,” Emma said. “But what makes you think they’ll let you see her?”

  “If they refuse, I can only assume they have something to hide.” Lauren wiped her hands on a napkin. “I may even alert the RCMP, let them know what I suspect. Frances and Annabelle are leaving the country at the end of the summer.”

  A waiter came out of the café and stopped by their table. “Can I get you ladies something else?”

  Emma drained her mug and looked at Lauren.

  “Nothing for me, thanks.” Lauren checked her watch and saw it was nearly four. “We should be heading home.” She opened her purse but Emma beat her to it.

  “It’s on me,” she said, handing the waiter a twenty.

  “Thanks, Emma.” Lauren buttoned her coat, and was reaching for her glasses when Emma gave her a sharp nudge. “It’s her,” she whispered.

  “Who?” Lauren asked, looking around.

  Emma pointed across the street at a woman heading in their direction.

  “My God!” Lauren said, taking in the woman’s platinum blond hair and red coat. She was exactly as Mrs. Spencer had described her.

  The woman saw them and stopped abruptly, her mouth a perfect O. She turned, making a hasty retreat.

  “Ma’am,” Lauren called, starting after her. “We need to talk with you.”

  Upping her pace, the platinum lady stumbled in her high heels. Lauren and Emma hurried after her down Duckworth Street. The woman wove in and out of traffic, a car missing her by inches. The driver blew his horn, mouthing obscenities. When a metro bus stopped across the street, she followed the passengers aboard.

  “Damn!” Lauren cursed as the bus started down Duckworth.

  “Let’s get the car and follow,” Emma suggested.

  By the time they reached the car, the bus was long gone. Trust it to be Sunday with no traffic to slow it down, Lauren thought. She pulled her cellphone from her purse and googled the number for the transit company. It took several minutes for someone to take her call.

  By this time, Lauren and Emma were heading down Water Street, the bus far ahead of them. “It’s the number nine bus, and it’s headed for the Village Mall,” Lauren said, putting her phone away. “Hopefully, we can get there before Miss Platinum gets off.” She frowned. “Who in the world is she?”

  Emma shrugged. “It’s obvious she knows us—or one of us at least. She must have something to hide or she wouldn’t have bolted the way she did.”

  The sun was low in the sky and tall shadows were gathering by the time they reached the mall ten minutes later. They pulled into the parking lot where a number of other buses were waiting. The driver was standing near the number-nine bus smoking a cigarette. “Bus leaves in seven minutes,” he said as they approached.

  “My mother got on your bus at Duckworth,” Lauren said. “She forgot her heart medication. It’s very important that she take it the same time every day. She was wearing a red coat with white trim. Do you remember her?”

  “I remember her,” the driver said. “Got off somewheres near Arthur Street. I forgets where to.” He gestured toward the bus. “Gary might know. He’s our driver in training.”

  They found Gary—who looked barely out of his teens—near the rear of the bus talking with a young woman. They fell silent as Emma and Lauren boarded.

  Lauren described the platinum lady, giving Gary the same story she’d given the other driver. “It’s important that we find her,” she added.

  “I remember her,” Gary said. “The one with the big…” he held his hands about a foot away from his chest.

  The girl slapped at his hands. “Geez, Gary, that’s her mother you’re talking about.” She turned to Lauren, shaking her head apologetically.

  “She got off at the seniors’ building on Arthur,” Gary said. “Is that where she lives?”

  “Umm…she’s probably visiting a friend,” Lauren lied. She turned to Emma. “We should be going if we want to find her.”

  They reached the manor in less than five minutes. In the lobby, seniors were sitting around small folding tables, playing cards and checkers. They all seemed to be eyeing Lauren and Emma.

  “Can I help you?” asked the security guard behind a desk near the entrance.

  Emma described the platinum lady.

  “No one living here fits that description,” the guard told them.

  “Sure, I remembers her,” said a lady with a cane who’d been listening to the conversation. “She got off the bus about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Did she come inside?” Emma asked. By this time, most of the residents had put down their cards and were listening intently.

  “I seen her get into a City Wide Taxi,” said a woman in a wheelchair.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “I didn’t speak with her.”

  Lauren looked around the room. “Has anyone seen her before today?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Please call me collect if you happen to see her again,” Lauren said, doling out her business cards. But even as she spoke, she knew it was unlikely the woman would return. Miss Platinum had gotten on the bus to avoid talking to them. Most likely, the taxi had taken her to her actual place of residence.

  Chapter 19

  Lauren lowered the heat on a pot of spaghetti sauce. Andrew had said to expect him between seven-thirty and eight o’clock. It was now ten past eight. She had set out her best dishes and lace tablecloth. A Caesar salad was waiting in the fridge. All she had left to do was cook the pasta and put garlic bread in the oven.

  Lauren had gone back to Beck Hayes that day for the first time since Coleman’s article had appeared in Sunday’s Daily News. Only a couple of her clients mentioned it. Charlie Dayton, a dentist accused of groping a patient, made it very clear that what he told her was confidential. Lauren assured him it would be. Tomorrow, she would have to face the students in her criminology class. She wasn’t looking forward to that. The phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. She picked it up, expecting Andrew. “Hello?”

  “Lauren?” The voice was deep, familiar.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Daniel.”

  Daniel? Lauren’s breath caught in her throat. She lowered herself into a nearby chair, her heart pounding.

  “Lauren? Are you still there?”

  “Daniel,” she croaked.

  “I’m in Newfoundland…New Wexford, actually. I’ll be leaving in a few days, and I intend to stop at Paddy’s Arm tomorrow on my way home. Can we get together?”

  “Well…I…”

  “We need to talk
, Lauren. Can we meet for coffee?”

  “Well, I suppose,” she said, sensing urgency in his voice.

  “I’ll call you when I arrive.”

  “Okay.” Lauren gave him her cell number.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Lauren.”

  “Me too, Daniel.”

  With trembling hands, Lauren replaced the receiver, already regretting her decision. Why didn’t I have the good sense to say no? All the physical and emotional longing she felt for him came rushing back. There was an ache inside her she knew would never go away. Will Daniel always have this hold on me? she wondered as she went to the window. Staring out at the blackness, she thought of all the years she and Daniel had sneaked around in motel rooms, remote cabins, and cottages. She recalled their visit to Europe when Daniel visited the Vatican. He had joked about introducing her to the Pope as his mistress. In Rome they strode hand in hand through narrow cobblestone streets, giddy and silly. They stood outside in rainy weather, getting drenched. Mornings they slept late and ate breakfast in bed. It seemed as if nothing could come between them there. I’m a fool for love, she thought, forbidden love. When she was sixty-five, would she still yearn for a man she couldn’t have? Or worse, would she grow bitter and resentful?

  She would see Daniel, she decided. She would make it clear their relationship was over. And there was no way she was going to tell him about Bailey. She didn’t need more complications in her life.

  Lauren turned away from the window. Where’s Andrew? she thought irritably. It was quarter to nine. He should have called if he was going to be this late. She poured herself a glass of wine and went into the living room, her heart still racing.

  At nine-thirty, Lauren called Andrew’s office. She got the standard message announcing that the clinic was closed. She called his cellphone and it went to voice mail. His home number rang and rang. Lauren poured the spaghetti sauce into plastic containers. She put away the dishes and folded the tablecloth. She knew there was a chance Andrew had been called out on an emergency. Still, he could have called her. The evening had been a total wash.