Her White Lie

by Jackie Walsh

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I love seeing the moon in the sky even though the sun is already shining bright above my head. It makes me think this day is going to be special.

  The traffic is very busy this morning. Car after car after bus after truck all lining up to go a half a mile down the road. I watch the faces of people behind the wheels. Some of them look bored stiff, some anxious and some happy. The happy ones are easy to spot because if they’re not actively smiling they’re singing along to whatever music is coming from the radio.

  Sometimes I can see people arguing and it upsets me. I turn away but the feeling doesn’t move as quickly. I’ve never been comfortable with conflict. I hated it when my parents argued. I would go to my bedroom or put my headphones in my ears until the winner emerged. Usually Mam. Thankfully, they didn’t argue often but when they did it made me nervous. I was afraid they would break up. That I’d become one of those children who had to decide who to live with. I worked it out once. I was going to spend the weekdays with Mam because I guessed she’d have the house and that was near my school. And Friday I would go to wherever my dad lived because he always got me food from the chipper on a Friday and I didn’t want to miss out on that. Things were so black and white then. When did they become so grey?

  There’s no arguing today, that I can see. I look up at the moon still refusing to go to bed and I smile. Today is going to be a good day. I’m not going to worry about anything. I’ll think only good thoughts. Sauntering towards the café, I’m within sight of the front door when I feel the smile slip from my face.

  What the hell are they doing here? Outside the café, I can see the unwelcome sight of the two detectives leaning against their car. Surely they can’t call to my place of work? Can they? And how the hell do they know I work here? I don’t remember telling them. Maybe I did, that morning in the apartment. Everything has become so confusing and I don’t know who I’m hiding what from half the time. But I don’t remember mentioning Muriel’s café, which means they’re checking up on me. Finding out what they can about the girl who Avril Ryan last phoned. The girl who lived in the house where Avril Ryan’s body was found.

  My stomach heaves. My body starts to freeze up. What now? A thousand thoughts jump to the front of my mind: Who? What? Why? When? Do they know what I did?

  My legs briefly buckle from under me but I manage to pull myself together and lift the dead weight of my body forward. When I approach them, Detective Lee steps away from the car and apologises for calling to my workplace but says they have to speak to me urgently.

  Her words take pride of place in my head. Every other sound – the traffic, the wind, the screeching of horns, the passing footsteps – has muted. If I cry, will the detectives think I’m guilty? I want to cry. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. For some reason, I think all the people in the traffic jam are looking at me. They probably know the two people standing over me are cops. Cops have a certain look, a stance, they come in twos. They make people nervous. They’re unmistakable.

  ‘Is it okay if we come inside?’ Detective Lee says.

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t. Whatever you’ve got to say, say it here.’ Did I just say that out loud? I’m sounding braver than I feel.

  ‘Well, you could come down to the station if that would be better for you.’ Her tone is laced with power. The ball is most definitely in her court. Shit, what do I do now? I certainly don’t want to go to the police station. What will Lucas think if he finds out his wife-to-be is being questioned at a police station – and so close to the wedding? A desperate feeling threatens my composure. Will Lucas still want to marry me?

  I’m shaking all over and my head is thumping. What am I going to do? I glance to my right. Through the glass window I see Muriel looking out at me. She certainly won’t appreciate me walking into work with two cops in tow. I’m about to ask them to wait until I speak to my boss when I hear a voice coming from behind me.

  ‘Is everything okay, Tara?’

  I look around and see Sean the solicitor standing behind me. His face is glowing, the watery sun providing him with what looks like a halo. He appears like Jesus rising from the dead. Immediately, I release the trapped tears and Sean puts his arm around me. I’m like a three-year-old crying in the teacher’s arms. Looking for a plaster. Where’s my plaster?

  Sean puts his hand out and gives the detective a card. ‘If you wish to speak to my client, call me and make an appointment.’

  My client. Why did he say that? When did I become his client?

  Detective Lee takes the card, reads it and says, ‘Well, if you think you need a solicitor that’s fine, but we weren’t going to keep you long, Tara, it was just a few quick questions.’

  Sean steps in front of me like a bodyguard protecting his celebrity client. I feel safe but I also feel like I’ve just blown this thing into a whole other dimension. What if they were about to finish with me? Ask one or two more things and then disappear forever.

  In the background, Muriel is straining her neck to see what’s going on and mouthing at me with concern. I hope she doesn’t come outside and join us, so I nod and fake a smile letting her know I’m okay.

  ‘We need to talk to your client as soon as possible,’ the detective says to Sean. He turns to me, checks his phone and we discuss a suitable time. Four o’clock tomorrow evening at the station.

  The detectives turn away from us and get into their car. I breathe with relief as Sean once again tells me not to worry. But that ship has sailed. I’m worried sick. My body feels like it has been thrown against a wall. The last time I was in a police station, I was getting visa forms signed for my journey to Australia. I was never there as a… what am I now? A person of interest? A suspect?

  With my world spinning on an axis of fear, I open the door of the café and walk inside. The person last served is walking out with their takeaway coffee, leaving myself and Muriel to fill the anxious space.

  ‘Are you alright, love? What happened? Was that the police you were talking to?’

  She moves out from behind the counter. I really don’t want to discuss anything now but I can’t ignore her either.

  ‘Yeah, it’s nothing; they wanted to ask me about an incident that happened in a house I lived in a few years back. Did the delivery from Musgrave’s arrive?’ I say, hoping she takes the bait and moves off the subject.

  ‘Yes, it’s out back. It’s not that house Avril Ryan was found in, is it?’

  Shit, she’s not letting up.

  ‘Yes, I lived there for a while a few years back. The police are asking anyone who ever lived there if they know anything. But I don’t have anything to tell them. I never knew her.’

  ‘According to her brother she was a lovely girl, loved her animals. She worked as a health care worker in an old folks’ home or something like that,’ she says.

  I’m listening to Muriel, aghast. Does she know Avril Ryan’s brother?

  ‘They are beyond consoling, God love them all,’ Muriel continues, moving towards the sink with a coffee tray. I’m stunned into silence. ‘They never gave up hope until they found her body. Terrible… terrible affair.’

  Wrapping the belt on my apron tightly around my waist, I pull and knot and take a deep breath. ‘Did you know the family?’

  ‘Not me personally. They were distant relations of Eamon’s.’

  Eamon is what Muriel calls her ‘part-time husband’. Sometimes they’re on, sometimes they’re off. He’s a very unassuming quiet guy if you ask me but Muriel finds enough fault in him to send him packing every now and then.

  ‘Which is why I had to go to the funeral,’ she says. ‘Eamon wanted to show his support even though he hasn’t seen them since he was a kid.’

  ‘Was anything said at the funeral about her death? Do they know how it happened?’ I say this with my heart thumping in my chest because I can’t believe my boss was at the woman’s funeral.

  ‘I didn’t go to the reception afterwards, but Eamon did. He
fell in late and I never got to ask him anything about it. But I’ll find out later if you want me to?’ Muriel turns her head sideways to look at me. She’s trying to gauge my reaction. I don’t want to seem overly interested so I continue as if she never said anything. I know Muriel will ask Eamon if he heard anything and she’ll be dying to tell me what she finds out, anyway.

  ‘The poor family, they must be devastated,’ I say. ‘I hope the police find out what happened to her so they can have closure.’

  I’m praying someone walks through the door and breaks up this conversation. The longer it goes on, the more chance there is I’ll tell Muriel that I was living at Huntley Lodge at the time Avril Ryan was murdered and that I’ve to go to the station tomorrow to be questioned further.

  When the door finally opens, two women from the beautician’s a few doors down enter. They’re lively, beautiful, and a total tonic from the gloomy atmosphere that I’ve created. They engage Muriel in conversation while I leave to attend to the delivery out back.

  When I’m out of sight, I take my phone from my pocket and check to see if Faye has called but my heart sinks when I see she hasn’t. I’m nervous about going to a police station, even with a solicitor by my side. Should I tell Lucas or wait until after I’ve been there? I don’t want him worrying unnecessarily. There’s nothing he can do. The only one who can help me now is Faye. She has to tell the detective that I didn’t know Avril Ryan.

  I dial her number but there’s no answer. Maybe she’s avoiding my calls, especially after her drunk episode on Friday night. She must be embarrassed about ringing me like that, struggling to put two words together. That’s if she even remembers making the call. She was so drunk it’s quite possible she doesn’t. Maybe Faye is not avoiding me at all. Just busy making life-saving decisions or delivering bad news to some unfortunate patient. I wish I could have done what she wanted and not mentioned her name to the cops. I know why she doesn’t want them contacting her. At least I think I do. But what if I’m wrong? What if Faye is hiding something else from the cops? Something that made her leave Huntley Lodge so hastily. I put my phone back in my pocket and think back to how everything changed overnight.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Then

  The café isn’t busy today but still I’m afraid to ask my boss if I can leave. I don’t know what excuse I’ll give, especially after being out of work for the past week. But I really can’t stay here and serve coffee when I’m suffering this pain. I keep making mistakes, handing out the wrong coffee or giving the wrong change and then when someone points it out to me I get all nervous and jittery and have to coax the tears back in behind my eyes.

  It’s not a physical pain; it’s worse than that and nothing will relieve it, not the two Solpadeine I just swallowed or the extra strong coffee I’ve been drinking all morning in an attempt to stay focused. This pain is dreadful, it’s cruel and the only cure for it is time.

  The damp cloth feels unusually heavy in my hand. Wiping it over the counter I watch the rings of stain disappear and wonder exactly how much time are we talking about here. A week, a month, a year? Exactly when will my mother’s death become a lighter load to carry?

  ‘Tara.’ Muriel calls me over to where she’s standing by the barista machine. ‘I think you should go home, love,’ she says.

  ‘But…’ I don’t know what to say. I’m exhausted.

  ‘Come back when you’re ready.’ Muriel smiles, puts her hand on my arm and squeezes. ‘It will take time, Tara,’ she says. ‘Take care of yourself and I’ll see you in a couple of days.’

  Moving to the back of the shop I unwrap the belt on my apron and let that word echo in my head. Time. Last week I hadn’t got enough of it and this week I have too much. Wouldn’t it be great to have a button, to be able to pause, rewind, fast forward? Or a special box to put time away in and take it back out when I need it. But there is no button, no box. Time owns me.

  * * *

  The sun is shining bright when I leave the café and it feels like an intrusion into my sadness. Why is everything not dull? I walk to the bus stop and stand with other silent voices and wait for the thirty-nine bus to take me back to Huntley Lodge. Dad was disappointed when I dropped out of college a few months ago. I think he thought I’d go back as soon as Mam died but I don’t want to. Not yet anyway, maybe next year.

  When I get to Huntley, it’s after lunchtime so I don’t expect anyone to be at home. Faye will be at college and Andriu at work. My plan is to go to bed, pull the duvet over my head and sleep, something I haven’t been able to do properly for weeks now.

  I turn the key in the door and step inside. To my surprise, Emily is standing in the hallway. She’s just about to leave but then I notice there’s an unusual smoky smell. Like something is burning or smouldering. It’s coming from the kitchen. Someone must have left a ring on.

  ‘What’s that smell?’ I ask. ‘And what are you doing here?’

  Emily sniffs the air. ‘I don’t know, it’s like something is burning.’ She takes a cream jacket from a pile of coats hanging at the bottom of the stairs and says, ‘I came over to pick this up. I left it here the other day.’

  ‘But how did you get in? Is my dad here again?’

  ‘No, Andriu let me in.’

  ‘Andriu?’ I’m confused now because I thought he’d be at work but I haven’t been paying much attention to the outside world of late. He might have mentioned something and I didn’t hear.

  Emily walks over and puts her hand on my arm. ‘Are you okay, Tara? You look worn out.’

  ‘I’ll be okay. I’m just tired. I’m going to bed for a few hours.’

  Emily smiles with pity before asking if I want her to stay. I don’t. Emily is the last person I want to see now but I thank her and watch her leave.

  A few minutes later, Andriu walks into the kitchen, where I am pouring hot water onto a teabag.

  ‘Sorry about the smell, Tara, I burnt a pot of eggs earlier.’

  I attempt a smile and continue to make the tea. ‘I didn’t know a burnt egg could make such a dreadful smell.’

  ‘Would you rather a hot whiskey?’ he says, moving over to my side. He’s bare-chested, wearing a baggy pair of joggers. The woody smell from his shower gel blurs the burning smell for a brief moment.

  ‘What?’ I say, confused.

  ‘You look so sad, Tara. Let me make you a hot whiskey and then you should go to bed and try to sleep.’

  Two hot whiskeys later, my eyes can no longer stay open.

  * * *

  It’s after eight when I finally wake. My head still feels like it doesn’t belong to me but I get out of the bed and put my dressing gown on over my underwear. I wish Faye was here so I could talk to her. She’d make me feel better like she always does. But she’s on student placement and has an overnight at the hospital tonight.

  I drag myself downstairs in the hope of killing a few hours watching something on the TV. I’m settled onto the sofa in the living room flicking through the TV channels when Andriu arrives with two glasses and a bottle of wine. He seems to think alcohol is the only remedy for my broken heart which surprises me because he usually never promotes it. Especially when it comes to Faye.

  ‘Wanna talk?’ Andriu sits down on the chair opposite the little wooden coffee table that Faye’s mam no longer wanted.

  ‘It will get easier, you know,’ he says. Hearing his words brings a tsunami of tears to my eyes. I can’t help it. If someone says boo, I’m off.

  Andriu sits with me. He listens when I tell him how much I miss my mam. We open a second bottle of wine and before I know it, I’m lying on the sofa ready to fall asleep again. My head is spinning from the drink. Faye is so lucky to have a considerate, caring man like Andriu in her life. I close my eyes.

  * * *

  ‘Get out… Get the fuck out!’

  I’m woken by screams coming from upstairs. I sit up suddenly. I’m going to be sick.

  ‘You cheating bastard… Get out. Get o
ut!’

  I rush out to the hallway and get hit in the face by a flying T-shirt. Faye is tossing all Andriu’s clothes over the bannisters onto the floor in front of me. I’m holding my mouth closed, trying to stop the vomit from rising. I rush to the kitchen because I’m not attempting to go upstairs into the unfolding nightmare.

  An explosion of puke lands in the sink, once, twice… Christ, I’m going to die here. Sweat drips from my forehead. There is still a massive row unfolding above my head. From the banging and crashing it sounds like she must be breaking everything. Whatever the fuck happened, Faye is not happy. In fact I’ve never heard her this distraught in my life. Her hysterical voice is crashing into every wall in the house and I can’t move to help her. All I can think about is how ill I feel.

  I turn the tap on. I’m unable to wish or think or help… I look out through the window to the statue at the bottom of the garden, to the overgrown shrubbery. Something looks different. Cupping my hand below the flowing tap I lift some water to my poisoned lips and drink it. I’m standing still but I can feel everything changing around me.

  Chapter Thirty

  This morning was endless. Coffee after coffee, cake after cake, sandwich after sandwich. No phone call from Faye. My anxiety danced through my body all day, shooting off the charts one minute, taking a rest for another before bouncing back into action.

  Muriel is no fool; she kept looking at me, saying nothing, watching me check my phone every few minutes. Faye never called. The sooner Andriu arrives, the better. I’m looking forward to seeing him at the airport tonight. Amy has agreed to drive me there to pick him up at seven thirty. It’s so long since I’ve seen him.

  At least then I’ll have an ally. Andriu will be able to confirm to the detectives that Avril Ryan wasn’t a friend of ours. She was never even in the house. He’ll be able to tell them we never heard of her, that someone else pushed the lid off that slurry pit and put her body inside.