The Liar’s Daughter (ARC)

by Claire Allan

  but Heidi is almost on top of me now so I end the call and

  throw the phone back into my bag.

  ‘What have you done?’ Heidi wails. ‘You can’t do this.’

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  ‘He’ll understand. Surely, he’ll understand. He loves you. He’d do anything to protect you.’

  ‘You don’t get it,’ Heidi says. ‘Why don’t you believe me?

  Why are you doing this, Ciara? Why are you doing your best

  to point this at me? You’ve done it all along. Making me think

  I’m losing it. Messing with things. And you’re doing it now.

  You’re trying to mess with my head so much that you get me

  to admit to something I didn’t do. Do you think I’m mad? Do

  you really think I am mad enough that I would do this?’

  ‘And why don’t you see I’m trying to help?’

  Lily is almost purple from the effort of screaming now and

  Heidi is only getting more and more wound up. If she’s unstable

  there’s no telling what she might do.

  ‘Lily is getting upset,’ I soothe. ‘You have to calm down.

  Think of Lily. Look at her.’

  She glances down at her distraught daughter and her face

  crumples.

  ‘Oh my God, Lily. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

  She looks at me, fear mixed with anger blazing in her eyes.

  ‘Look what you’ve made me do. She’s so upset. She’s over-

  heated. What if something happens?’

  She’s shaking now. I can see the colour drain from her face.

  ‘Heidi, you don’t look so good. Give the baby to me. Give

  her to me.’

  Heidi shakes her head, but it’s enough to set her off balance

  and she looks at me, eyes wide.

  ‘I’m going to faint . . .’ she manages to mutter before she

  starts to drop to the ground.

  I have just enough time to grab Lily from her before she

  lands like a sack of potatoes in the hall.

  Lily is still wailing, Heidi is as white as a ghost and I’m

  shaking so hard that my teeth are chattering. I look around,

  grab my thick winter coat from the coat rack and lay it on the

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  ground so I can place Lily on it. Then I kneel over Heidi, put my hand to her forehead. She’s clammy, still. My panic is building, when her eyes slowly start to flicker open.

  With one look at me she descends into tears, tries to sit up,

  and she is clearly still woozy.

  ‘It’s okay, just rest there a minute.’

  ‘Lily?’ she mutters.

  ‘She’s fine. Can you hear her? She’s fine.’

  Heidi curls into a foetal position and sobs. I tell her I’m

  going to grab a glass of water. I’m scared now but for a different reason. I’m seeing how truly vulnerable Heidi is. I kneel beside

  her, help to raise her head so she can sip the water.

  ‘Take your time,’ I tell her. ‘Don’t sit up until you’re ready.

  You fainted.’

  She nods and I lift Lily, try to comfort her. Poor little Lily

  who hasn’t a notion what is going on around her. She wrig-

  gles and pushes against me at first. She looks at me with wide

  eyes as if she’s trying to make sense of everything and then,

  as I do my best to soothe her, stroking the soft curls on her

  head, she quiets, grabs hold of my fingers, and I feel my heart

  contract.

  Meanwhile, Heidi is pulling herself to sitting. The colour

  very slowly coming back to her cheeks.

  ‘Please,’ she says, ‘give me my baby.’

  She looks scared. Scared of me. Does she really think I would

  do anything to hurt Lily?

  ‘I will,’ I say. ‘I just want to make sure you’re well enough

  to hold her when I do. How do you feel?’

  Heidi gives a small laugh, which quickly turns into tears.

  ‘Awful,’ she says. ‘Nothing about any of this isn’t awful. I

  knew you hated me,’ she says, looking directly at me, ‘but this

  much? To try to destroy me?’

  ‘I don’t want to destroy you. All I want to do is help,’ I tell

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  her and I realise that’s the truth. Now anyway. I just want to get us both – all of us even – through this.

  ‘You’ve made it worse,’ she says, her voice sad.

  She puts her hand to her forehead. No doubt she feels the

  cold film of sweat that has broken out.

  ‘All these games,’ she whispers. ‘And now Alex.’

  ‘Alex will want to help too. He loves you. I can see that.

  When he knows everything, he’ll be able to help you.’

  ‘He thinks I’m losing my mind,’ she says. ‘All these things,

  the last few days. The doll, the missing book, the grave. All

  those things have him thinking I’m not right. That I can’t be

  trusted with Lily.’

  Shame floods me again. The things I’ve done and said. But

  I’m not responsible for it all. Not for the prayer book. Not for

  the grave.

  She starts to get up. ‘I want to go now,’ she says, reaching

  out for Lily. ‘Give her to me.’

  ‘You can’t leave!’ I say, holding Lily firm.

  I won’t allow her to just walk away. We’re all living under a

  cloud and she is the person who has the power to stop it.

  ‘Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?’ she says,

  stepping closer. ‘Now please, hand my daughter over to me.’

  Lily turns her head towards her mother’s voice. I hold her

  firm.

  ‘I’m not giving her to you when you’re behaving like this.’

  ‘I’m not behaving like anything. I just want to go because I

  don’t feel safe around you. I don’t feel safe in this house. I don’t feel comfortable with your accusations. So please, give my

  daughter to me and let us both leave.’

  I don’t understand why she can’t see that I simply cannot

  and will not let that happen.

  I shake my head and it’s me who is taking a step backwards

  now, taking her child further away from her.

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  ‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘At least wait until Alex is here and then maybe he can talk some sense into you.’

  ‘Please! She’s my baby.’

  I can see the anguish on her face as she longs to hold her

  daughter. I don’t want to be cruel.

  ‘I’ll give her to you,’ I say, ‘only if you stay. You have to

  promise me you’ll stay.’

  She shakes her head but I can see she is wavering. Her desire

  to have Lily back in her arms outweighs anything else.

  She concedes. I hand Lily to her and then I make sure that

  the front door is locked and she can’t leave even if she changes

  her mind. She has to realise that I’m doing this for her own

  good. It will be much worse for her if she doesn’t come clean.

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  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Heidi

  Then

  The night Joe died,
something felt out of sorts. There was a

  strange energy in the house, which at the time I put down to

  the growing tension that came from putting five people who

  didn’t really like each other, together in a relatively small space under stressful conditions.

  I had a headache, one that I couldn’t shift. I’d taken some

  paracetamol, which is all I was allowed to take given that I was

  breastfeeding Lily, but what I really wanted was to take some-

  thing more hardcore to knock me out for a few hours. Since

  that wasn’t going to be possible, I wished instead for a cool

  cloth over my eyes. A lie-down in a darkened room. Preferably

  my own darkened room in my own house away from all of

  this.

  Joe had been in bad form all day. Worse form than normal.

  Maudlin. Philosophical. Cranky. He didn’t want to be left alone

  for any length of time and unfortunately for him no one, with

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  the possible exception of Kathleen, seemed minded to want to spend any time with him.

  He hadn’t even tried to be pleasant when I’d arrived at around

  ten thirty that morning – griping that he’d had to wait for his

  breakfast and was hungry. It hadn’t been my fault I’d been late.

  Lily had been fussy – teething, I think. She’d thrown up every-

  where just as we were getting ready to leave the house and I’d

  not only had to change her clothes, but bath her as well. Then

  it had been time for her feed and well, yes, maybe I had taken

  some time to myself. But I deserved it. I needed it. I didn’t

  think, even in his weakened state, coming downstairs and making

  a slice of toast was beyond him.

  Joe punished me for my tardiness by being extra demanding.

  He knew he could play on my guilt, that I was a soft touch,

  so he did. He rang that stupid bell so many times that I’d barely

  had five minutes to myself to run a vacuum round or grab a

  cup of tea or feed my baby in peace. I’d muttered that I wanted

  to shove that stupid bell where the sun doesn’t shine at one

  stage, a feeling of being completely overwhelmed washing over

  me.

  Alex had been at work, Ciara and Stella, too. None of them

  having the ‘luxury’ of maternity leave to keep them away from

  their respective jobs. Kathleen had popped in during the after-

  noon but then said she had to leave again. Pauline was taking

  her out for a coffee. Pauline was worried about the strain she

  was under. I’d forced a smile, but I’m sure Kathleen knew it

  was far from genuine.

  They’d all arrived en masse at teatime and of course I’d felt

  obliged to make something to eat for everyone – opting for the

  easy option of a spaghetti bolognese. Using a jar of sauce, of course, because I didn’t have the time to whizz one up from scratch. I

  barely had the time to bless myself, never mind press garlic.

  Kathleen had turned her nose up at my food, said she didn’t

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  feel like she ate a proper dinner unless it had potatoes in it.

  She’d set about preparing something for herself, and for Joe

  too, saying he had always been a plain eater and it was more

  important than ever that he ate well now.

  She’d been lucky not to get a pot of spaghetti sauce tipped

  over her. I bit my lip. I wanted to tell her he was lucky to be

  getting anything. They all were. I definitely had better, or nicer things that I could have been doing, than looking after Joe

  McKee and feeding the five thousand.

  I should have been spending time with my daughter – time

  I wouldn’t get back once I was back in the workforce, helping

  to keep the inner workings of the local technical college ticking

  over. This should be time spent sitting on the floor with her,

  playing with her, marvelling at her tiny, perfectly formed fingers.

  Kissing her feet. Singing to her. Learning how to be a mother

  without having a mother to teach me.

  It was no wonder I was on my last nerve by the time dinner

  was over. Angry and put out and tired. And my head still hurt.

  At least, I thought, at least Stella was courteous enough to stack the dishwasher while Alex took Lily for a walk to settle her.

  That left Kathleen, Ciara and I to discuss the way forward,

  which was not a comfortable conversation to have and one I

  could easily have done without after the day I’d had.

  Still, we knew it was necessary, so I made us all a cup of tea

  and we sat around the kitchen table. We were just about to

  plan a rota of sorts, when Joe’s damned bell rang again.

  ‘I’ll go if you want,’ Stella said, popping her head around the

  kitchen door.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ I’d said, grateful to give my tired legs

  a break from running up and down the stairs.

  She’d smiled, more in Ciara’s direction than anything else,

  then had set off up the stairs, only to come back down again

  less than a minute later.

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  ‘He wants you, Heidi,’ she said, her face a little flushed.

  Both Ciara and Kathleen shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  As if they were put out by it all. As if they wanted him to have

  asked for them instead. Neither of them knowing that I’d be

  more than happy to let either of them take my place. Permanently.

  I nodded, sighed and got to my feet then trudged up the

  stairs.

  Joe was sitting up in bed. His glasses perched at the end of

  his nose. He put down the pen he was holding and closed over

  the book he had been writing in, in slow, deliberate moves. He

  looked up, regarding me over the top of his glasses as if I were

  some sort of scientific specimen. Goose bumps, very much the

  unpleasant kind, prickled on my skin.

  ‘Sit down,’ he said.

  It was an order, not a request. I knew his tone of voice well.

  I pulled the chair from beside his bed just a little further

  away from him before doing what he’d asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t know why you always have to

  be so cold with me, Heidi,’ he said sadly.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet. Fidgeting uncom-

  fortably on the chair. I willed Lily to let out a cry so I would

  have an excuse to bolt. It shocked me how quickly he could

  make me feel as if he was in control again.

  He sighed again. ‘You’re talking about me, aren’t you? All of

  you. Downstairs.’

  He sounded worried. But he always was a good actor, good

  at eliciting sympathy where he deserved none. I’d no doubt he

  was going to start laying down the law about what standard of

  care he expected. Joe McKee was nothing if not particular.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We are. We’re talking about how best to support

  you.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘And that’s all?’ he said, one bushy, over-

  grown grey eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

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  I wasn’t sure if I imagined it or not, but thinking back, now I’m sure that it was a flash of worry that I saw on his face as

  he spoke. We’d never spoken of what had happened all those

  years ago. Joe had been a master of sweeping uncomfortable

  things under carpets and I’d been content to let all those secrets fester out of sight.

  ‘What else would we be talking about?’ I asked him, keeping

  my face as neutral as my voice.

  ‘All sorts of things come up when someone is dying,’ he said.

  ‘Emotions. Unresolved issues.’

  ‘Sure, what unresolved issues would we have, Joe?’ I asked.

  I knew I was goading him but I wanted to know how far I

  could push him before he would crack. If, that was, he would

  crack at all.

  ‘Well, I don’t know, but I suppose what I’m saying is that

  there’s no need to go upsetting yourself, or anyone else for that

  matter, by going over old ground.’

  He made it sound like he was trying to do me a favour. Like

  he was trying to look after me. All that did was anger me more.

  ‘What old ground would that be, Joe?’ I asked as I struggled

  to retain my composure.

  Would he actually have the balls to come out and say it? I

  wondered. Would he have the guts to say that he wanted to

  make sure his sick and sordid past didn’t become the thing

  people remembered him for most of all?

  He paused, blinked. ‘Things weren’t always easy,’ he said. He

  swallowed, looked down then up and that time I knew what

  I saw. I knew I was looking at the face of a worried and scared

  old man. ‘I did my best, you know. You were such a damaged

  child. With your mother’s death. You were so difficult to manage

  at times, and I know you believed things to be true that maybe

  didn’t happen like you remember them. Then of course the

  passage of times erodes memories, doesn’t it? Fills in gaps in

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  stories. Traumas mix together, don’t they, so it’s hard to remember what is real and what isn’t. Especially when you were on so

  many medications.’

  ‘So tell me, what was real? Those things that maybe didn’t

  really happen? Or that my memory has embellished for me

  over the years? Why don’t you tell me what of it really did