Her White Lie

by Jackie Walsh

  A shiver runs down my spine when I picture Avril Ryan’s body lying there. Her cold, wet, distorted corpse left to rot like a rat in a sewer. No one deserves that ending. The final goodbye should be peaceful, surrounded by people who love you. There should be no physical pain, just the angst of loss, lessened by the heightened belief that, yes, we will see one another again someday. A loved one should be holding your hand, tightly, helping you make the transition to the next world with dignity and peace. A smile where possible. Tears at a history well remembered. A life that was worth living.

  But Avril Ryan didn’t get that. Her life was robbed from her. There was violence, fear, evil. No one smiled through tender tears when Avril took her last breath.

  I swallow hard, knowing this could have happened at Huntley Lodge. It’s also possible I was in the house at the time, asleep upstairs, unaware of the body being tipped into the pit at the back of the garden. I need to tell the detectives that. They need to know that while I could have been there at the time, any one of hundreds of people could have done this. Someone who once lived at the house or someone who had partied at the house. There were lots of people at those parties. People who knew the unused pit was there. The detectives need to know that.

  The lunchtime rush is almost over, just a few stragglers without the chains of clock cards rushing them back to work. I’m usually quite chatty with the customers, laughing, joking, commenting on the latest breaking news. But not today. Today I just smile and put down a plate or lift a cup. My vibe must be easily read because no one is engaging me in conversation. A lot of the regulars are aware I’m leaving Muriel’s café in a couple of days. They know I’m getting married and moving to Australia. They are fully aware of my unfolding dream. They don’t know that dream is now balancing on a crumbling foundation.

  When the last of the tables have been cleared, I go to the barista machine to make myself a cappuccino to take out back. I wash the smell of disinfectant from my hands before lifting the mug. I’m not hungry today. The stress of the detectives wanting to speak to me has my stomach in a knot. Sean says not to worry, that the cops do this; they have to be certain that I know nothing of use to the investigation before they scratch me off their list. I hope he’s right.

  I’m just about to pour the frothed milk into the mug when the tinkle of the bell rings above the door behind me. Someone has walked into the café. I look at Muriel counting coins at the till to see if she makes a move to attend to the customer but she remains focused on the money. It’s up to me. I force a smile on my face even though one doesn’t belong there and turn to see the tall shape of a familiar man.

  ‘Andriu?’ I don’t believe it. Andriu is standing in front of me. I wipe my hands on my apron before pulling the hairnet from my head. I must look like crap. He looks great.

  The three years since I’ve seen this man have done little damage – some grey hairs sparkling at the edges and a suggestion of age wrinkling the corners of his eyes but other than that, he looks exactly the same. Piercing dark eyes, fine bone structure and a row of perfectly managed teeth. His smile wraps me like a hug. I feel like the cavalry has arrived. But what is he doing here already? I’m supposed to be picking him up at the airport later.

  ‘Andriu.’ I rush into his arms and fight the tears that spring forward with relief. Andriu doesn’t know what’s going on yet. Or so I think. Maybe he does. It’s possible the police have contacted him already.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here… I thought I was to pick you up later. Did I get the time wrong?’

  He looks around at the empty café.

  ‘No, I took an earlier flight. How are you?’

  ‘I’m great, great,’ I say, before remembering that I’m not. I don’t know whether to get straight into it with him or wait until we’ve at least said our hellos properly. ‘And you… you look great.’ I step back to have a better look.

  I look at Muriel who is discreetly surmising the situation.

  ‘Is it okay if I have my break now?’ I say, knowing she won’t mind. Muriel nods, lifts her till tray and walks towards the back room.

  ‘I’m just about to have a coffee, Andriu. Can I get you one?’

  ‘Whatever you’re having,’ he says.

  We’re both sitting with our coffees and I’m preparing to tell Andriu all about Lucas and the wedding and Australia when my mouth opens and says: ‘Have the police been in touch with you?’

  ‘What?’ Andriu leans back slightly. He looks shocked by my opening line. I’m a bit shocked myself so I take a deep breath and hug the mug in my hand.

  ‘Something happened at Huntley Lodge, Andriu. A woman’s body was found and now they want to talk to whoever lived there at the time.’

  Andriu says nothing, so I continue. ‘A woman in her thirties – she’s been missing for three years and now her body has been found in the disused pit at the bottom of the garden at Huntley Lodge. Do you remember it, the big steel doors in the ground under all the brambles? Can you believe it? Jesus. And all the parties we had there.’

  ‘What?’ He eventually speaks, his eyes lighting up like I’ve just told him the most incredible news. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes, and the police are on to me because this all happened when we lived there.’

  Andriu chuckles. ‘That’s impossible. Are you having me on, Tara?’ He smiles as if waiting on the punchline.

  I fill him in on what I know so far. Andriu soon realises there is no punchline but it’s difficult to gauge his reaction. I’m in a panic and yet he seems to be laughing it off like it’s nothing at all. Cool Andriu. Still nothing fazes him.

  Eventually I move on to the subject of Faye and Andriu’s mood shifts slightly. He’s not chuckling now.

  ‘Have you heard from her?’ I ask.

  Andriu shakes his head before speaking. ‘She did try to contact me once or twice at the start. She sent a few messages but I didn’t reply. I thought a clean break was the best thing for us… How is she?’

  Hearing him mention her name brings back a lot of memories. Sad memories. Andriu broke her heart. The sound of her crying that night – it was torture listening to her pain travelling through every room in the house. Suddenly I feel like I’m betraying Faye.

  ‘I don’t really know. I haven’t seen her in a long time. I spoke to her on the phone for the first time a few days ago. I think she’s okay.’ I remember the sound of her slurred words. ‘I hope she’s okay.’

  ‘Why? Did something happen?’ Andriu says, keeping his eyes on me as he lifts his mug to his lips. I don’t want to tell Andriu that Faye was drunk and upset when she rang me; it’s none of his business.

  ‘No, nothing. Just the Huntley Lodge thing.’

  ‘Do you think she had something to do with it?’ he says, knocking me for six.

  ‘Faye? What are you talking about? Why would Faye have anything to do with it?’ My voice sounds a bit defensive.

  ‘No, just when you said you hope she’s okay, I thought maybe you…’

  ‘No. God, Andriu. Faye didn’t have anything to do with it.’

  Andriu places the mug back down on the table, his eyes following his action before he lifts his steady gaze to me again.

  ‘Oh well, that’s good,’ he says, nonchalantly, but freaking me out at the same time.

  ‘Why do you think she could have had something to do with it?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that. It’s just she had gotten so weird and paranoid before I left.’

  He rubs his hand through his hair, saying, ‘To tell you the truth, Tara, Faye changed. She’d become possessive or crazy, something I couldn’t put my finger on, but she was different to the Faye I had grown to love.’

  ‘But you were the one who cheated on her, Andriu.’ I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud but I can’t let him forget what drove her over the edge that day. She was right to be paranoid.

  Andriu pulls back in the chair. ‘Wait a minute, is that what she told you? There was more to
that than meets the eye… You don’t know what she was like, she changed, Tara. Faye had become very nervous, jumpy, like she was waiting on something bad to happen. I had already made my mind up that I was going to take the job in London even before that night.’ He leans forward slightly, a half smile appearing on his face. He’s locking his stare on me, wanting me to agree with him. But I don’t. I know Faye was heartbroken but she wasn’t mad.

  ‘I decided to go before things got even more difficult,’ he said.

  I think back to that time, was there stuff going on that I didn’t notice? I was so involved in myself, my own sadness. Had I missed something. Had Faye been in trouble?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Faye

  Today wasn’t too busy. I’ve had busier days in this clinic. The appointments were at a minimum which I was thankful for. I’m still in consultation room number four but this time there are two detectives sitting in front of me: Detective Siobhan Lee – who seems to be the boss – and her partner, Detective Mullins.

  ‘Thank you for seeing us, Faye. It’s important we get to speak with everyone who lived at Huntley Lodge.’

  I nod and keep my eyes locked on hers. Detective Lee shifts in her chair and takes out a notebook from her pocket.

  ‘I’ve already spoken to one of your housemates, Tara Moore,’ she says.

  Again I nod.

  ‘She told me you were living in the house with her alongside another tenant, Mr Andriu Fitzpatrick.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Have you spoken to either since the body was found?’

  I want to say no but Tara probably told her we’ve been in contact so I decide I’d better not lie so soon into the conversation.

  ‘I spoke briefly to Tara but she didn’t know anything either and I haven’t seen or heard from Andriu in… gosh, it must be three years or more.’ I make it sound like I’m only calculating that figure now. The detective doesn’t need to know that it’s exactly three years, nine weeks, two days and about nine hours since I last saw him. The day I chucked him out of the house. The day I came home and found the box of condoms on top of his bedside cabinet. The box was open. There was a wrapper on the floor by the bed. It wasn’t there when I’d left for work the previous evening because I always make sure the box is inside the cabinet.

  The detective doesn’t need to know that before I discovered the discarded wrapper on the floor, I found Tara Moore unconscious on the sofa downstairs. Barely dressed. She doesn’t need to know I covered her in a blanket and lifted the two empty glasses from the table and the bottles off the floor in case she rolled off the sofa and hurt herself.

  The hate is taking over again. I can feel it rising in me, drowning me. It will make me lose control and I might say something that I shouldn’t. Casting my eyes to the ground, I stick my finger into the side of my shoe as if clearing something away and I take a deep breath.

  ‘Sorry, something stuck in my shoe,’ I say before lifting my head and looking at the detective.

  ‘Do you know where Andriu is now?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Okay, not to worry. So, Faye, can you cast your mind back to three years ago when you lived at Huntley Lodge?’

  I’m nodding, waiting on further direction.

  ‘Can you remember anything suspicious at all? Anyone unusual coming to the house or anyone acting out of character?’

  Mullins coughs into his hand, taking my focus away from Lee.

  ‘Can I get you some water?’ I say, standing to walk to the water cooler in the corner of the room.

  ‘Stay where you are, he can get it himself,’ Lee says, looking over at Mullins like he’s a little kid.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he mutters and looks back at me.

  ‘Where were we?’ I say. ‘Oh yes, anything suspicious, anyone out of place…’ Smacking my lips I look to my right, to my left. ‘Anyone suspicious?’ I repeat. ‘I would say at least a hundred different people came through that door in any one month so…’ I let that hang in the air for a minute before adding. ‘Do you have a name? Or a picture or…’

  ‘Avril Ryan,’ Lee says.

  I continue to play dumb and yet the anger in me is still very much alive. I try to block out the moment I put two and two together. Tara and Andriu. They had sex. Everything pointed to it: the drink, the condoms, the half-naked bodies. Did they think they were actually going to get away with it? That they could keep their sorry little affair a secret from me… with my IQ? Are they really that thick? I knew someday an opportunity like this would come my way.

  ‘Faye…’ Lee interrupts my train of thought.

  ‘Sorry… I’m trying to think. Did you say Avril Ryan?’

  ‘Yes.’

  And here it is. Sitting on two chairs in front of me. My opportunity for revenge.

  It’s a self-harming of sorts. I know that but if I can release some of the anger I have for her, let it flow, maybe then I won’t feel as bad. I know it could backfire on me. But to hell with it. I want my revenge. I will take the blade and make the cut.

  ‘I’m pretty sure Tara Moore knew an Avril Ryan,’ I say.

  The room falls silent then. I have given the detective exactly what she wants. She can’t thank me for it because she can’t show her excitement but I know she’s holding it in. Detective Lee is looking straight at me and I am looking right back.

  I’m fully aware of the trouble this will cause. It’s a lie. A great big lie. But I don’t give a shit. In fact, I feel better already.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Tara

  There’s a thick fog floating on the surface of the River Liffey like it’s trying to hide something. I make my way down the quays, pushing past the crowds that are walking too slow for my liking. I want to get home to Lucas. I want to see his face and hug his strong body. To be reminded of my future.

  Muriel came to my rescue earlier, calling me back on duty before the conversation carried on any further with Andriu. We hugged and he agreed to meet Lucas and me in Reilly’s pub on the corner of our apartment block on Friday night. Amy will be there too.

  Andriu said he’s looking forward to meeting Lucas but I’m not as excited anymore. I’m thinking, maybe I should have left my past where it was and not invited Andriu to the wedding. At the time, I thought it would be nice to have someone from those halcyon days at the reception, but that was before the body was found. Now, having him around only reminds me of the investigation and how close I’m sailing to the wind.

  I didn’t like what he said about Faye either – that she had gotten weird, implying she had gone a bit mad. It’s probably Andriu’s way of dealing with the way he treated her, running out on her. Some men get like that when they do something wrong. They become allergic to blame, citing the woman’s madness for their lack of judgement. I saw it happen when Mam’s brother Derek was caught offside with his young secretary. He decided it was his wife’s fault, said she was mad, that she drove him to it. And even though he was her only brother, Mam didn’t fall for his nonsense. She was so angry that day, and it wasn’t long after her diagnosis so there wasn’t a lot of anger left in her, but she summoned whatever there was and read him the riot act.

  He lives on his own now. No wife. No secretary. No sister. I sent him a wedding invitation, Derek plus one, but he replied saying he’d be coming on his own.

  With my hands tucked inside the pockets of my jacket, I step onto O’Connell Bridge and pray there’s still a wedding for Uncle Derek to come to. My step quickens the closer I get to home, and I think of Faye, what she suffered back then and how useless I was for her. I should have noticed if something was wrong. I should have been there for her.

  * * *

  Lucas is whistling when I walk through the door. Well, at least someone’s happy. He’s standing over the cooker pouring cream into something simmering in the pan. It smells delicious, and I tell him so. When he turns to smile at me, it cheers me up and I decide to be happy too.

  ‘W
hat is it?’ I say, accepting his kiss before leaning over to look into the pan. Lucas has always been the main cook in this relationship. It’s not that I’m a bad cook but I look bad beside him because he cooks everything from scratch. Nothing gets onto his menu that isn’t directly delivered by nature. Whereas I often tend to just go for whatever is quickest and easiest.

  ‘Chicken tagliatelle,’ he says, stirring the pot. ‘With spinach and peppers and…’ I kiss him on the lips before he gets to finish. Lucas drops the spatula and holds my face, kissing me harder, deeper, arousing a need in me.

  I pull away when I realise I’m crying. Tears are rolling down my face.

  ‘What is it?’ Lucas says. ‘What’s wrong, Tara?’ His gaze changes to one of worry.

  I don’t want this. I didn’t want Lucas to be worried about me but I’m unable to hide my fear. ‘It’s nothing, sorry, Lucas, I’m just a bit tired and nervous and…’

  Lucas takes a deep breath. I can tell he’s getting a bit fed up with me. I don’t blame him. His wife-to-be should be melting in his arms or jumping around with excitement not crying and moaning and freaking out over everything. I have to let him know my worry is genuine.

  ‘Those detectives came to the café today.’

  Lucas pushes the pan off the heat and wipes his hands on a tea towel before leaning against the countertop.

  ‘What happened?’ he asks.

  Wiping the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my cardigan, I look at him. ‘They said they want to ask me more questions and now I’ve to go to the station tomorrow evening with Sean the solicitor from upstairs, and Andriu thinks Faye might—’

  ‘Slow down, slow down, Tara. One thing at a time. What happened with the detectives?’

  While I tell Lucas about the police, he finishes the dish in the pan and plates it up for us both, topping it with some freshly chopped green stuff. Then he opens a bottle of wine and we sit at the small two-person table that Lucas insisted on buying when we got this place. I thought we’d never use it. I didn’t realise how romantic living with Lucas was going to be. He loves making dinner, lighting candles, decanting wine. I’m so spoilt, I’m so lucky, oh God, I’m crying again.