Her White Lie

by Jackie Walsh

  ‘No, it shouldn’t take too long,’ she says, but I know the answer to that depends on what I have to tell them.

  When the detective agrees to call at five, I give her the address of the clinic and close my phone. I’ll need to prepare for this because, as I warned Tara, I don’t want to slip up. Detectives have a way of getting you to say things you didn’t intend to say. I know this because I never meant to tell them I put Valium into my whiskey the night I crashed my father’s car into a big oak tree. And yet I did tell them.

  I push open the door and walk into the kitchen. Both heads turn to look at me. My father is the first to speak.

  ‘Are you ready?’ he says, pulling his heavy weight off the chair with the aid of the table.

  I nod. Mam hands me a lunchbox then leans in to kiss my cheek. It’s the same routine every time.

  ‘Take care, Faye. Don’t forget to ring us.’

  ‘I won’t.’ I take the box and shove it into my overflowing bag before leaving the room. Already my brain is calculating what I should tell the cops this evening. I could act as dumb as an old fool or I could use this to my advantage. Drop Tara in it. I’ll have to be careful, though. I don’t want them finding out what happened or I’ll never practice as a doctor again. Not in this country anyway. Maybe Australia.

  * * *

  I thank my father for the lift, take my bag from the back seat, then walk up the steps to the front door of the clinic. Another Monday. Another week begins.

  ‘Good morning, Faye.’

  Elvis, the security man is on duty today. He’s always full of energy and smiles. Elvis is not his real name. He earned it by grooming sideburns the size of two small cats down his face.

  ‘Morning, Elvis,’ I say, my head held high. I walk down the corridor, the familiar walls, smells, sounds tapping into my conscience. Here we go again.

  Anna is sitting at the reception desk. I wave. She waves. Then I carry on to my room, second on the left at the end of the corridor.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tara

  There’s a bus broken down on the quays. Which is all anyone needs on a Monday morning. I push through the crowd exiting the bus and continue on towards the café. My head feels so much better today. It took the best part of yesterday before I could open my eyes without feeling pain. Lucas was great; he didn’t speak much and brought me lots of water and greasy food when I was finally able to stomach it.

  I enjoyed the night, everyone had a great time but I’m also glad it’s over. Now I can concentrate on the wedding. The dress, my hair… why did Avril Ryan ring my phone? What could she have possibly wanted? I managed to keep those questions from ruining the hen party but now they’re sitting right at the front of my head waiting for some attention. Maybe if I knew more about the woman I could figure out why she was looking to speak to me. But how do I find that out?

  With the bright watery sun blinding my vision, I continue on down the quays to the café. I should Google and see if I can find out where Avril Ryan worked before she was killed. It’s got to be somewhere on social media and that might give me a clue. Other than that, I’m at a loss. Detective Lee doesn’t seem to want to share anything with me – if she knows anything. Faye might be able to get more out of them. They’ll be more trusting of her. Dr Faye Connolly. I bet they wouldn’t believe she’d lie to them.

  The shutters are already up when I arrive outside the café. Muriel must be here already. I turn the key in the door and walk in to find her sitting at one of the tables drinking from a takeaway cup and writing in one of the ledgers.

  ‘Morning Muriel, everything okay?’

  ‘Morning Tara, yes, just getting a bit of work done early. I’ve to go to a funeral this morning and I wanted to get these orders out before I go.’

  The smell of coffee cheers me up so I go straight to the machine and make myself an Americano, with an extra shot.

  ‘Oh sorry to hear that, someone close?’

  ‘Not really but I have to show my face. The delivery from Cahill’s will be arriving between ten and eleven so make sure it’s correct this time.’ Muriel swallows more from her cup of tea, then stands. It always amazes me that someone who owns a coffee shop and brags about the quality of her beans never actually drinks the stuff.

  ‘I’ve left the checklist there for you.’ She points at a sheet of paper which she has placed on top of the counter. Muriel was not happy when Cahill’s bakery left her short twelve doughnuts last week. I’m not sure how she knew when she wasn’t here but she does a stock check every so often against the till sales and she discovered the error. She’s brilliant like that. She knows everything that goes on here. Which is why she’s the owner and I’m just an employee. Someday I want to own my own coffee shop. I’ve already mentioned this to Lucas and he says we can look into it when we get to Melbourne.

  Immediately, I feel excitement taking hold. This time next month I’ll be on the far side of the world. I picture myself lying on a beach wearing the big round Gucci glasses I got in a sale last month. My hair will be tied back, I’ll have on my red bikini and my skin will be golden brown. In my hand I’ll be holding a tall cold drink which I’ll hold against my forehead to cool me down. The realisation that this is actually going to happen makes me giddy with excitement as I plug in the till.

  But what if I can’t go? The fear hits me like a bullet. What if those detectives decide I must stay in Ireland until they’ve finished their investigation into the death of Avril Ryan? My heart sinks. What will Lucas do? Will he go without me? No. They won’t do that. They can’t do that. Not without some decent evidence… surely.

  With the excitement gone and my head throbbing, I reach for the machine and make a second cup of coffee. This is turning out to be a real nightmare. It could spoil my wedding, force me to make changes, to delay everything. To stay here, making coffee, while my husband takes a flight to the far side of the world. My trembling hand is twisting the portafilter into place when I hear the push of the door.

  The first customer has arrived. Hard as it is to do, I put my nightmare on hold and a smile on my face. It’s Sean, the solicitor who rents one of the offices above the coffee shop from Muriel. He is always the first through the door every morning. I gulp down some of my coffee and turn to say good morning.

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ he says, pulling his wallet out of his trouser pocket.

  ‘Why, are you expecting trouble?’ I’m trying to sound cheery, trying to ignore the worry coursing through my veins.

  Sean laughs too. ‘I’m always expecting trouble, Tara. I’m a solicitor, I deal in trouble.’

  Sean doesn’t have to tell me what he wants because it’s the same every time. A double strength latte made with almond milk. I’m reaching down to get the milk from the fridge below the barista machine when the thought suddenly hits me. Sean does deal in trouble. He’s the one I should be talking to. I wait until Muriel has moved into the back of the shop, taking longer than is needed to make his coffee.

  ‘Can I ask you something, Sean?’

  ‘Fire away,’ he says, checking his phone before putting it back into his pocket.

  My heart is racing. Where do I begin?

  ‘I might be in trouble,’ I say, placing his coffee on the counter. Sean taps his card and lifts the cup to his mouth. His eyes are focused on me as he takes a sip. I feel foolish, but I have to ask just to be sure.

  ‘Can the police stop me from travelling abroad? From emigrating?’

  Sean chuckles. ‘There are situations where they can, Tara, yes, but you’d probably need to have murdered somebody. Why are you asking? Did something happen?’

  ‘Well…’ I’m nervous to say it out loud. So I check behind me to make sure Muriel is still out of earshot then I lean forward and whisper. ‘They might think I murdered somebody or know something about a murder.’

  ‘What?’ Sean’s chuckle quickly disappears and now he’s looking at me in disbelief. ‘What are you saying, Tara? Did the police say that
to you?’

  Oh shit, Sean is definitely going to think I’m a fool.

  ‘No, not directly but they did question me about someone who was murdered. And I’m moving to Australia next month and I’m worried that it might…’ My voice sounds really agitated now and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. Sean puts his hand out and places it on mine.

  ‘First of all, Tara, no, you won’t be stopped from going to Australia, so don’t be worrying about that.’

  I take a deep breath and let the heavy burden float off into the air. Sean is about to continue when the door opens and in walks another regular. Mark from the holiday shop down the road. He shouts hello at the top of his voice and stares at the menu board even though I know he too will order his usual. Sean winks at me.

  ‘What time can you call up to me in the office to have a quick chat? I’ll put your mind at ease. You shouldn’t be worrying like that.’ He says this in a quiet voice so Mark can’t fully hear. I’m overwhelmed by Sean’s kindness and I feel like crying again.

  ‘Eleven. I’ll be on my break at eleven… or one o’clock. I’m finished at one today.’

  ‘One o’clock, Tara, I’ll make sure I’m free.’

  ‘Thanks Sean.’ I smile with gratitude and move my attention to Mark.

  * * *

  The rest of the morning passes with the usual Monday morning customers and comments. I didn’t really want to make a big deal about it to Sean but I do feel better now that I’ve leaned on him. At least now I don’t have to be worrying about moving to Australia. Or do I? I wonder if he will be so positive when he hears that Avril Ryan made a call to my phone. It’s bound to make a difference. Those detectives will probably never leave me alone now that they have a ball to kick. They’ll call and call and poke their noses into every corner of my life. Asking question after question. Shooting from every angle. I will have to stay strong. Defend my goal like a premier keeper. I cannot let my guard down even once because if they discover what I did… the game is over.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The water is rushing out towards the sea tonight. I’m standing on the balcony drinking hot chocolate. I don’t normally drink hot chocolate but the hotel gave us a few samples because we’re planning to serve it along with the champagne when the wedding guests arrive in out of the cold. Something different, they suggested. Getting married in the winter would not have been my first choice but Lucas is due back in Australia next month and it seemed the logical thing to do rather than drag him back here next summer.

  Faye and I always spoke about the summer sun shining brightly when we dreamed about our weddings. We had it all planned out. I would be her bridesmaid. She would be mine. I can still hear her laughing as she mimics herself walking down the aisle while humming ‘The Wedding March’. It was automatically presumed she would be the first to take the plunge. But here we are. And it’s me. I don’t feel like a winner, though. Instead I feel sad it didn’t turn out the way we dreamed it would. With Faye by my side.

  With my hands cupping the mug, I look out at my city. I need to frame this picture, to keep it forever in my head – the bridges, the buildings, the lights. Soon it will be a memory. The place I used to live. I will tell my new friends what it was like, what I loved about it and they’ll wonder why I left this place. I’ll tell them it was love. They’ll think I mean Lucas.

  Sean seemed quite concerned that the body found in Huntley Lodge dated back to when I lived there. He asked if that was a fact or just a possibility. I said I didn’t know. He thought it was very early for the cops to have that information, unless there was other evidence besides the post mortem that led them to believe she’d been lying in that dirty pit for the past three years. I told him that was around the time Avril Ryan went missing. But he said that didn’t prove she was killed then, they must have more. He went quiet when I told him that I was the last person she tried to contact.

  Sean asked me if I killed Avril Ryan. Not in an accusatory way, it was more of a joke but he still asked. He still got me to say ‘No.’ I told him the whole thing was a mystery to me and he suggested I forget about it and enjoy my wedding, while at the same time handing me his card in case I needed him.

  * * *

  In the background, I hear the unmistakable soundtrack of I’m a Celebrity… Get Me Out of Here coming from our apartment. Lucas loves watching it. Yearning for home, I guess. I’m not a fan of the programme. Some nights I join him to get a feel for where I’m going to be living soon but it’s probably not the ideal thing to be watching. I’m not able to look at people eating reindeer’s balls and elephant’s eyes. Ugh, not to mention the constant attacks from snakes and spiders. Lucas told me that there are plenty of snakes in Australia, sometimes they come into people’s back gardens or their outhouses. When he saw my face stretch in disbelief he laughed, telling me not to worry, it didn’t happen in the city where we’d be living. I hope he’s right.

  The chocolate drink has gone cold. I inhale one last view then go back inside to where the light from the TV flickers over Lucas’s face. His eyes are peeled to whatever drama is unfolding on screen and I watch as he stares, his innocence, his honesty, his kindness all showing in his beautiful face.

  I didn’t mention my conversation with Sean the solicitor to Lucas. I don’t think it’s fair to worry him more than I have to. This is supposed to be the most important time of our lives and I can’t let this event from the past interfere with the present any more than it has to.

  I might tell Faye what Sean said in case she’s worrying like I am. And Andriu. He’ll be home tomorrow. I could run it by him. Though knowing Andriu, he probably won’t give a damn about the cops. He was never really one to worry too much about anything. One time, two guys called to Huntley Lodge looking for Emily because she owed someone money. Faye and I were in a tizzy. We thought they’d come in and take all our stuff. We were both really afraid but Andriu walked out into the hallway. He told us to wait inside while he closed the front door behind him and dealt with the guys out in the garden. I don’t know what he said to them but they disappeared fairly quickly and when he came back inside he wasn’t a bit rattled. Faye and I were still shaking half an hour later. I decided then I was going to have to tell Emily that if she didn’t stop taking cocaine I’d have to let her mam know. I was not going to stand back and watch her ruin her life.

  I reach over to kiss Lucas’s lips.

  ‘I’m going to bed. I need an early night.’

  He moves his lips closer to me without lifting his gaze from the man on screen. In his fifties, with a dwindling celebrity status, he is jumping around in fear while trying to remove giant spiders crawling up the leg of his shorts.

  ‘Night,’ Lucas says, his face cringing at the unfolding torture.

  * * *

  Before switching off the light, I check my phone once more to see if Faye has called. She hasn’t. Maybe Faye has forgotten about it already or she just hasn’t had the time to call me. Her life is so busy, working in a hospital. The media is always reporting on how doctors don’t get a minute. Likening them to saints, especially young doctors. Apparently they put in seventy hours a week sometimes, or even more, sleeping in the hospital, eating in the hospital. It seems like a raw deal to me after all those years of studying. I think I’m a warrior if I do an extra shift at the café.

  I wonder what Faye is doing now. Is she saving some kid’s life? Consoling some upset mother who’s distraught that her six-year-old has to have their appendix out?

  I put my phone on silent and close my eyes. Faye won’t ring tonight. She probably hasn’t even had time to meet with the detective yet.

  My eyes are closed but my mind isn’t. I can’t stop thinking about Faye. All that she was to me. I wish she would come to the wedding. It upsets me to think she found it so easy to cut me out of her life, to forget our past, our friendship. I keep going over it in my head. How she stood beside me that night, telling me to be brave. I could not have got through it without
her.

  My mind is still twisting when the bedroom door opens, casting a ray of light across the dark room.

  ‘Are you asleep, Tara?’ Lucas whispers.

  ‘Not yet.’

  He walks over and sits down on the bed. He pushes my hair off my forehead and kisses me.

  ‘Are you happy, Tara?’

  ‘Yes, I’m happy, what makes you ask that?’

  ‘You seem a bit down lately. Are you sure everything is okay?’

  I look at Lucas and smile. ‘I’m okay now.’

  ‘Because you know if you don’t want to go ahead with the wedding I can—’

  ‘No, Lucas, no. Don’t say that. It’s not you. I love you. You’re what’s keeping me going.’

  ‘Is it the move, then? Are you having second thoughts about living in Australia? Because you know we can stay here, Tara. I could continue working in the Dublin office.’

  We’ve been over and over this. Lucas trying to convince me to move to Australia then telling me I don’t have to if I don’t want to. He still wants to marry me. He loves me and he doesn’t need to be worrying about whether I want to move to Australia or not. The thought of another year here frightens me more than any move.

  ‘Lucas, I can’t wait to move to Australia, believe me. It’s the most exciting thing I want to do… after marrying you, of course.’

  I’m yawning when Lucas leans in to kiss me. He seems happy with my explanation for now but I’m going to have to show a bit more excitement if I’m to convince him it’s the truth.

  He can’t see that someone who’s been dead for three years, someone I never even knew, is having this negative impact on my life. But it’s going to be hard. I keep asking myself: did I have something to do with Avril Ryan’s death? Something I don’t know about yet? I get the feeling those detectives think I did.