The Liar’s Daughter (ARC)

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The Liar’s Daughter (ARC) Page 29

by Claire Allan

defence if you do not mention when questioned, something

  that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may

  be given in evidence.’

  ‘You’re entitled to have a solicitor present. Do you have

  someone you use or would you like us to arrange one?’

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  Alex shrugs. We’ve never had use for a solicitor before, save for the conveyancing of our house, and that’s hardly anywhere

  near the same level.

  ‘I know a good solicitor,’ Ciara chimes in, handing him his

  glass of water. She takes a deep breath, turns to the two police

  officers. ‘You have to know this about my father,’ she says.

  ‘He was not a nice man. He was not a good man. He did

  things . . .’ she pauses. ‘We can prove he did things . . . He

  confessed, in his diary. I’m sure your SOCO team took it

  with them?’

  ‘We can certainly check that,’ DC Black says.

  ‘What kind of things?’ DC King asks.

  I can’t look at her in the eye. Ciara is, as always, stronger

  than I am.

  ‘He abused us, Heidi and me. For years,’ she says.

  If DC King is shocked her face doesn’t show it. ‘Then it’s a

  shame he was never brought before the courts,’ she says, and

  while she’s right, the message is clear. Vigilante justice is no

  justice at all.

  ‘Yes,’ Ciara says. ‘It is a shame. A crying shame. It’s a shame

  he wasn’t hauled before the courts a very long time ago, but

  he was a very manipulative man. Clever. He had us all scared

  to speak. He was very controlling.’

  ‘I didn’t know about it,’ Alex blurts. ‘Until that night, I didn’t know. I only saw it in the diary. Where he wrote it. Heidi hadn’t

  told me.’

  Guilt wraps its way around my heart and pulls tight. It’s a

  physical pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. This

  time, I am to blame.

  ‘I think maybe this really is a conversation we’d best continue

  at the station, don’t you, Mr Lewis?’ DC King says.

  Alex nods.

  ‘Would you like to come with us, please?’

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  I know it’s not a question, not really. Alex will be going with them. In the back of an unmarked car.

  ‘No!’ Ciara says, and I look up at her. ‘This isn’t really neces-

  sary, is it? It isn’t right. Alex says when we went in to see my

  father he was barely breathing. Gargling. And then he stopped.

  Alex didn’t call for help, but you said my father was suffocated.

  All the evidence pointed to that. It pointed to someone putting

  something over his head and smothering him.’

  The two officers exchange looks.

  ‘I didn’t do that,’ Alex says. ‘I didn’t hold anything over his

  face. I swear. He was taking very shallow breaths. I should’ve

  called for help, but I was so angry I didn’t. I should’ve. I should’ve turned the evidence over to the police. I know he was very ill,

  but he should’ve faced some sort of justice. Proper justice.’

  ‘We really should continue this at the station,’ DC Black says

  as he starts to guide Alex out of the house, and I watch my

  husband being led towards a police car.

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  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Ciara

  Now

  Heidi looks broken. More broken than before. She stares at the

  doorway, as if expecting Alex to come back in any time.

  ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ she says, eventually, looking downwards.

  ‘I’m sure the police will find out what really happened,’ I

  tell her. ‘They will be able to see that Alex is telling the truth.

  All this has to have a rational explanation.’

  Although I’m not sure what it could be. The coroner can’t have

  got it so wrong. I wonder, for a moment, if Alex has told us the

  truth, or is he covering up something else? My gut tells me he’s

  genuine, though. His story rings true, as does his fear and his sadness.

  ‘Let’s focus on what we can do to help,’ I tell her. ‘Let’s see

  if we can find Joe’s diary. If we can find that, and get it to the police, it could help in some way.’

  ‘Do you think Kathleen or Marie took the diaries? Or Stella?’

  Heidi says.

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  I shake my head. ‘Stella definitely didn’t. I’d know. Possibly Kathleen or Mum.’

  ‘Do you think the police might have taken them?’

  I shake my head again. ‘If they did they would have told us,

  or they would have found what he’d written by now. I’m sure

  of it.’

  ‘But maybe we should call them. Just to check.’

  She is agitated, wringing her hands together and scratching

  her arm so vigorously, I’m worried she might break the skin.

  ‘I’ll call them,’ I tell her. ‘And I’ll call Mum and Kathleen,

  too.’

  She blinks at me, her eyes wide with gratitude. ‘Could you?

  Would you?’

  Her vulnerability unnerves me a little. It saddens me. I know

  I’ve seen it before, when I was young and vulnerable myself. I

  nod and lift the phone.

  As expected, the police confirm they didn’t remove any

  paperwork from the house. Heidi’s face falls as I tell her the

  news. I see the livid red marks on her arms from her scratching.

  I kneel in front of her and take her hands in mine to stop her

  from hurting herself.

  ‘You have to stay strong now, okay? For Alex and for Lily.

  I’ll call Mum and Kathleen now. I know this is scary but,’ I

  glance down at her arms, ‘hurting yourself isn’t going to help.’

  She looks down, startled as if she hasn’t even realised she is

  doing it, and starts to rub her arms gently.

  ‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘You’re right.’

  I sit beside her while I make the calls.

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  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Ciara

  Now

  Kathleen agrees to come over. I asked her if she had the diaries

  and she went very quiet for a moment.

  ‘Yes, I do. But why do you need them?’

  ‘Oh, just some admin. Dad left some passwords, pin numbers,

  that kind of thing, in his diary. I need to access some stuff to

  close accounts, access his savings, et cetera.’

  ‘I can look through them, see if I can find anything?’ she

  said. ‘I’ll call you right back. I’m sorry for taking them. I just wanted to feel closer to him. It’s a comfort to me seeing his

  handwriting.’

  ‘I get that,’ I told her, trying to keep my voice level. ‘It’s really only his latest diary I need to see. If you could even bring that.

  I’ll give it straight back,’ I lied.

  I didn’t tell her about Alex. I didn’t tell her to look or not

  look at the back pages of the diary. I just piled on the trauma-<
br />
  tised daughter voice thick and heavy until she sighed and agreed.

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  ‘I won’t be long,’ she’d told me.

  That had been half an hour ago and Heidi and I are now

  both getting impatient.

  I feel as if I could cry when I see a taxi pull up outside and

  watch as Auntie Kathleen, looking so much older than her

  years, climbs out of the car and looks at the house, pausing for

  a moment before she spots me in the window. She doesn’t

  smile. She looks serious.

  ‘She’s here,’ I say as if Heidi hasn’t been as fixated on the

  window and watching for her arrival as I have.

  ‘It will help, won’t it? What he wrote?’ she asks me.

  ‘I hope so,’ I tell her, but the truth is I don’t really know if

  it will or won’t.

  She gives me a weak, watery smile. I jump when I hear the

  doorbell ring, even though I have watched Kathleen walk up

  the path and reach her hand towards the door.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Try to keep calm,’ I tell Heidi. ‘Remember, as

  far as she knows we only need this diary for admin reasons.

  We want her to keep believing that for now. We don’t want to

  upset her.’

  Heidi nods. Sniffs and sits on the armchair, cradling her arms

  around her. I go and answer the door, my face impassive.

  ‘Thank you so much for coming, Auntie Kathleen. We’re just

  trying to get everything organised, you know. Tie up all the

  loose ends.’

  She nods. ‘I’m not sure what the rush is, but I respect your

  choices. I suppose it would be nice to have it all wrapped up

  before I go back to England. I can’t stay here forever.’

  ‘I appreciate it. We appreciate it,’ I say as I lead her into the

  living room, where she spots Heidi.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise she was here,’ Kathleen says, reaching

  into her bag and pulling out this year’s leather-bound diary,

  handing it to me.

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  ‘Nice to see you, Kathleen,’ Heidi replies. ‘Thanks for doing this.’

  Kathleen sniffs and nods. She’s clearly still angry with Heidi

  for the graveside scene. My anger over that has gone now. Now

  that I know what Heidi has been through. It has been replaced

  by my own sense of guilt.

  But I don’t have time for wallowing in self-pity now. I want

  to get this to DI Bradley as soon as possible. I flick through

  the pages, trying to find my father’s hastily scrawled words.

  ‘Are you looking for something?’ Kathleen asks.

  ‘Just the pin numbers and passwords,’ I say, feeling my palms

  start to sweat.

  I was sure he wrote in the back of the diary but there’s

  nothing there. I examine it closely. See ragged edges close to

  the spine where pages have been torn out.

  I look up at Kathleen.

  She is looking around the room. I see her look intently at

  Heidi. It must be obvious that she has been crying. Her eyes

  aren’t quite as red-rimmed as they were but they are still puffy.

  She still looks miserable.

  I feel my heart start to thud a little faster as I flick through

  the diary again. I’m not sure why I do, it’s obvious that pages

  have been torn out, but it doesn’t make sense and I can feel

  myself starting to panic.

  I catch Heidi’s eyes and she reads the worry on my face. Her

  eyes widen.

  ‘Can you not find what you’re looking for?’ Kathleen asks.

  ‘That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? His diary?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, distracted as I run my fingers along the rough

  edges of the paper. ‘It was this diary I wanted, but . . .’

  Kathleen sits down close to Heidi, who seems to be shrinking

  further and further into herself.

  ‘The house feels strange without Joe in it, doesn’t it?’ she

  says. ‘I wonder who will live here next.’

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  She sounds so jovial. So relaxed.

  ‘Did anyone else have access to this diary?’ I ask her.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she says. ‘Why do you ask?’

  I try to stop my voice from shaking. Someone has torn the

  pages out. That much is clear.

  ‘There just seems to be something missing. Some of the info

  I needed.’

  ‘Pin numbers and passwords? That kind of thing?’ she asks

  and I see it.

  I see she is trying to catch me out. I see that she knows

  exactly what I’m looking for. She’s just waiting to see if I’ll

  confront her about it.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘that sort of thing.’

  Heidi is looking at me, her eyes pleading with me to solve

  this huge problem that is beyond my ability to solve.

  ‘Ah, good. Because the way you’re acting, I’d almost swear

  you were looking for something else.’

  ‘What else could there be?’ I ask her and I know we are

  playing a game. Just as I know she is not on my side.

  She shrugs. ‘Maybe something that should never be seen by

  anyone else,’ she says, flicking an imaginary piece of fluff from

  her skirt before holding my gaze. ‘Because if you’re looking for

  those disgusting things he wrote, I’ve destroyed them. Burned

  the pages. They contained all sorts of things. Lots of private

  information you know, things you wouldn’t want falling into

  the wrong hands. Things you wouldn’t want the whole world

  knowing.’

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  Chapter Seventy

  Heidi

  Now

  Has Kathleen really just said what I think she said? She’s

  destroyed Joe’s confession? There’s nothing to show the police?

  Nothing to help Alex? I feel as if I might be sick.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I hear Ciara ask as I try to fight the

  nausea in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘What I mean,’ Kathleen says, ‘is that I have burned whatever

  it was my brother wrote about things he said he did in his

  past.’

  ‘But why would you do that?’ Ciara asks.

  I can hear the disbelief, the pain, in her voice.

  ‘It’s all very simple,’ Kathleen says.

  She’s trying to maintain a facade of cold indifference, but I

  see that she is trembling.

  ‘I saw the things he had written. That “confession” of his.

  And there was no way I was risking anyone else reading that.’

  I can’t hide the horrified look on my face.

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  ‘No!’ Ciara says, shaking her head. ‘No, you can’t have done that. You’d no right to do that!’

  ‘Had I not?’ Kathleen asks. ‘Do you think I want everyone

  and his mother talking about my brother in that way? I don’t

  care if he’s dead, I won’t have people saying he was some kind

  of p
ervert.’

  ‘He was more than a pervert,’ Ciara says. ‘He was a monster.

  He hurt us. Me. Heidi. Abused us. Raped us!’ The last two

  words are shouted.

  Raped us. The words out loud have a powerful effect on me.

  Like a punch in the stomach but one that releases all the hurt

  and anger that has just about been contained over the years.

  My fists clench. Tears run freely down my face, but I don’t care

  any more. I am not ashamed. I will not be ashamed any more.

  And at that moment I see a flicker of something on Kathleen’s

  face. I can’t miss it. She’s not that good at hiding her feelings.

  And it all slots into place.

  ‘You already knew,’ I say, my voice little more than a whisper.

  ‘What?’ Ciara says. ‘No, she didn’t.’

  ‘She did,’ I say.

  Guilt is written all over Kathleen’s face. People will ask ques-

  tions. People will want to know how he managed to keep it a

  secret. Except he hadn’t kept it a secret, after all. One person

  knew, and that person, rather than confronting him and stopping

  it all, moved away from England and left me, left us, to our fate.

  ‘Didn’t you, Kathleen? You knew, all those years ago. You

  knew and you did nothing to stop it. We were just children

  and you let him do that to us. You’re as bad as he was.’

  Kathleen colours. For the first time the swagger she had when

  she came into the house leaves her.

  ‘I . . . I . . .’

  ‘No,’ Ciara says. ‘That can’t be true. ‘She would’ve stopped

  it, wouldn’t you?’ She’s addressing Kathleen now.

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  ‘I did stop it!’ Kathleen says. ‘Or I tried. I thought he did. I thought I’d got hrough to him. I told him . . . told him I knew

  what he was doing and I’d go to the police. Or worse, I’d get

  the boys onto him. They’d have sorted him out. He was terri-

  fied of that, terrified he’d get his knees done. Or a bullet to

  the back of the head. Said he’d stop. Said he’d never do it again.’

  Ciara’s face is rigid with shock. She sits down, head in her

  hands. She looks like she might be sick.

  ‘And then you took the word of a liar?’ I ask, but I don’t

  need her to answer. I know the answer. I know that the fear

  of a bullet to the head, or years in prison branded a nonce,

  weren’t enough to stop him and his twisted ‘compulsion’. ‘Maybe

  if you’d stayed, eh? Maybe if you hadn’t left and gone to England.’

 

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