by Jackie Walsh
‘Tara, you wanted to see me. Come in,’ he says, moving out from behind his desk and pulling a chair out for me to sit on. Sean sits beside me on a dark wooden chair that screams designer. I messaged him earlier to see if he had a few spare minutes to talk to me. I don’t know what to do about what I found out in the paper, about the cops not pursuing users of the ‘Cabhrui’ website.
‘Have you seen this?’ I say, handing the paper to Sean and pointing at the relevant section. Sean reads it while I inhale the mild woody scent of his aftershave.
When he finishes, he leans back in his chair and scrunches up his face briefly before saying, ‘So, you do know something about this website.’
My face is reddening. I can’t see it but I can feel the heat flushing over me. I’m so embarrassed I didn’t tell him when he asked me after we left the station the other night.
‘Sean, I’m sorry. I got such a shock when the detective mentioned the website that I couldn’t think straight but the thing is…’
Sean leans forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. He’s looking intensely at me, waiting for me to continue, to explain myself.
‘Sean what would you say if I told you I did use the services of the “Cabhrui” website?’
‘I would say don’t mention it to the detectives. It’s up to them to find that information out. Don’t go handing it to them.’
‘But it says they’re not going to pursue any charges if—’
Sean interrupts me. ‘Tara, this is a trap.’
I nod, hoping he’ll elaborate.
‘If Avril Ryan was a facilitator for this website, they may be going on the assumption that she was blackmailing somebody who used it or someone was blackmailing her. It might be fine for other people to come forward and say they used the site, but Tara, I would not advise you to.’
I’m getting nervous, feeling weak; this is all very frightening. Why not me? I grip my hands together to stop them shaking.
‘You were, remember, one of the people living in Huntley Lodge at the time of her disappearance. You were the last person Avril Ryan tried to contact. Your number was on her phone. Don’t put fuel on the fire. Don’t mention the website. If they discover it some other way, we will deal with that then but for now say nothing.’
I’m taken aback by this advice. So I ask him. ‘But what if they find out the truth and discover I lied?’
‘That won’t make any difference to the facts, Tara. This is about managing the truth. Not lying.’
I don’t know what to think. I have to do what Sean is saying because he’s the one who knows how it all works but it seems so wrong. I thought that if I told them, they might leave me alone. Avril’s unanswered phone call to me could be explained. But Sean is right. If blackmail was involved it wouldn’t look good for me.
I’m trying to think if I have anything else to ask him when a sudden bolt of dread flashes through me. Faye. Could Avril Ryan have been blackmailing Faye?
‘Are you alright, Tara, what’s going through your head?’
‘Nothing… it’s just…’ I don’t know whether to mention this to Sean but if I keep holding back on him he’s not going to be impressed.
‘Well, my friend Faye, she helped me, she’s a doctor. Maybe…’
‘Maybe what, Tara? Avril Ryan was blackmailing Faye?’
I nod to let him know that’s what I was thinking. Sean stands up.
‘Tara, that is your friend’s problem and I don’t mean to sound callous here but I represent you. My job is to give you the best advice that I can and for now I’m telling you not to give that information to the detectives. You’ll be out of here in a few weeks, Tara, don’t give them a reason to delay your leaving.’
My teeth chatter. I rub my hands up and down my arms trying to warm them as an icy wave shivers through my body. My mind is a mess, full of too many thoughts. Thankfully, Sean is able to direct me. If it wasn’t for him, I would surely have fallen into the trap and added to their list of reasons for suspecting me.
‘Did you find out any more about what Muriel said, about Avril Ryan being harassed, the trouble she had in her past? Do you think the detective knows about that?’ I say, lifting my bag from the floor and making to leave. I know how busy this man is. People come and go from this office all day long. I serve coffee to half of them.
‘Again, not your problem, Tara, but I’m pretty sure the detective knows all about that. The family would have told them. Now, rumour has it you have a wedding to get ready for.’ Sean smiles and sits down behind his desk.
I thank Sean before walking out of his office even more confused than I was when I walked in. The old wooden stairs creak as I make my way downstairs and out through the door onto the busy street. I’m trying to push my fears out of my head but now I can’t help thinking about what Andriu said about Faye. How she had become weird. Asking if I thought she could be involved in the murder. Andriu must know something about Faye that I don’t. Something that made him leave. I need to talk to him to try to make sense of this.
It’s okay for Sean to say that Faye is not my problem. He doesn’t know that she is. I was the one who dragged Faye into all this. I gave her name as the support medical person that would assist me. The suppliers of the Nembutal insisted I had medical expertise with me in case something went wrong. I shouldn’t have been so abrupt with Faye on the phone when she called me last week but I was annoyed she had told the detective I knew Avril Ryan.
I push open the door of the café for what I sincerely hope will be the last time ever.
The moment of happiness that embraced me this morning seems so far away now. My mind is bending with endless scenarios and Faye is not the only one I’m worried about. I’ve yet to ask my dad if he knew Avril Ryan.
Chapter Fifty
Dad is standing with his back to me on the porch polishing the letterbox. He has headphones in his ears so he doesn’t hear me calling him while I walk up the pathway. He jumps when I tap him on the shoulder.
‘Jesus,’ he says, ‘you frightened the life out of me.’ He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, taking the polish and cloth with him as he pushes the door fully open.
When I step inside the house, his hard work becomes apparent. There’s a beautiful fresh smell of vanilla and everything is gleaming.
‘Gosh, Dad, you’ve been hard at it. The place looks great.’
The hallstand, usually covered in letters and crap, is completely cleared and there’s a candle burning in a glass ornament in the centre of it. I can tell the doors have been washed down because the usual scuff marks around the handles are nowhere to be seen. The kitchen is also spotless when I step inside. The smell of disinfectant saturates the air making me cough briefly. I hate that smell.
When I see a vase of flowers at the centre of the table, I begin to question what’s going on. My father never bought flowers in his life. Even for Valentine’s Day. He always bought my mam perfume or chocolates, saying flowers were a waste of money.
So what is this? Is there someone else involved, a woman maybe? I’m about to jokingly ask but before I get a chance to say anything he walks over to the vase in the middle of the kitchen table and tells me that Mrs Higgins from two doors down sent the bouquet to brighten the place up for the wedding. I’m biding my time before asking him if he knew Avril Ryan because I want to sound casual rather than jumping straight in like I’m working for the prosecution.
‘She mustn’t have had any faith in me,’ he says.
‘Well you’ve certainly done a good job, Dad, thanks.’
‘More cards have arrived.’ Dad takes a bundle from the table and hands them to me. I put them in my bag to open with Lucas later. Then I make my way upstairs to admire the great job he has done cleaning the bedroom that the bridesmaids and I will be getting ready in on Saturday morning. Amy and Emily will be arriving here at seven for breakfast and bubbles before the hairdresser arrives. The make-up girl is booked in for eleven. I hope she has time to do the three of us
before the car arrives at one.
The dresses are hanging from the wall, where I left them. Taking a deep breath, I unzip the bag covering my dress and hold it open to look inside. My heart lifts with joy. It really is beautiful. My hand glides over the white lace and I feel a twinge of pain in my heart. I miss Mam. I wish she was here now. She’d love the dress. I know she would.
‘Do you need me to do anything else?’ Dad says.
‘No, everything looks perfect.’
Before going back downstairs, I check the second bathroom to make sure he waved his magic wand over that and I am not disappointed.
‘And your suit?’ I say.
‘Hanging up, ready to go. The only thing left for me to do is prepare my speech which I’ll have a go at later. You won’t be wanting anything too long?’ he says, following me down the stairs.
‘God no, just a few words Dad, and as I said before, only if you want to.’
Back in the kitchen, I’m checking the list on my iPhone, making sure I’m leaving nothing out when out of the blue my father asks, ‘Will Faye be at the wedding?’ He’s opening a cupboard and putting the polish inside. I’m completely shocked because my father has never mentioned Faye since the day my mother passed away.
‘Er, no, actually, I don’t really see Faye anymore.’
‘Ah that’s a pity,’ he says, but my curiosity doesn’t want to leave it at that.
‘Why are you asking about Faye?’
‘I was just wondering would she be there. I haven’t seen her in years and she was such a good friend of yours…’ Then he pauses before saying, ‘A great friend, I would say… I thought she’d be there. I never got to thank her.’
I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say except, why now? Why is he asking about Faye now when he hasn’t mentioned her once in the last three years? Does he know something?
‘Is Lucas excited?’ he asks, changing the subject.
‘Yes, he’s really looking forward to it. Imagine, it’s his first Irish wedding and he’s the groom. Hah!’
‘He’s a lucky man.’
I laugh out loud but I’m not laughing inside because I want to bring up the subject of Avril Ryan without sounding like I’ve an agenda.
‘Have you been playing any chess lately?’ I ask, taking a glass from the cupboard above the countertop. Even the glass is spotless.
‘No, I haven’t played much this year. There are a lot of new kids on the block,’ he says, rubbing his elbows. ‘Real whizz kids, too smart for the likes of me.’
My heart is beating fast now. I want to ask but I have to make sure I don’t upset him.
‘You know the woman who was killed at Huntley Lodge, the body they found there two weeks ago? She used to play chess. Maybe you knew her?’
‘What was her name?’
‘Avril Ryan.’
‘Avril Ryan… Do you know what club she was with?’
‘No.’
My father is sitting at the table, his face hidden behind the flowers so I can’t read his expression.
‘Is everyone coming to the wedding?’ he asks, moving swiftly off the subject of Avril Ryan.
‘Yes, so far we haven’t had one person who can’t make it.’
‘I guess that would be the time of year. A lot of people would be on holidays during the summer months.’
‘Probably.’
Dad doesn’t seem to want to talk about Avril Ryan. Which surprises me, because she played chess just like he did. I thought he’d be more interested for that reason. I can’t imagine it’s a huge community, so it’s possible their paths did cross. After a few more comments about the wedding and next week’s weather forecast, I want to bring the subject of Avril Ryan back into the conversation, but he cut me off so short the first time, I decide not to.
Chapter Fifty-One
Lucas laughs when I tell him about the possible chess connection between my dad and Avril Ryan. Pouring wine into a glass he tells me I’m losing it. The steak Diane which he has cooked smells delicious and for once I’m feeling hungry. Besides drinking about ten cups of coffee today, I don’t remember eating anything.
‘Well, he didn’t really answer me when I asked if he knew her. He just asked me if I knew what club she was with and when I didn’t have the answer he changed the subject. But he never actually said he didn’t know her.’
I’m starting to hear the madness myself and I laugh along with Lucas. ‘I am mad, I know. Are you sure you still want to marry me?’
‘Well I bought the flights,’ he says, causing me to spit out the wine when I burst out laughing.
‘You know, this will probably be our last meal here together. We’ve the rehearsal Thursday, I’m staying at Dad’s on Friday, and tomorrow night Amy is driving me to Dad’s with all the stuff we need for the morning of the wedding.’
‘And Wednesday, I’m having a couple of pints with the blokes from work,’ Lucas says.
‘Is that your last day?’
‘Yes, I’m all yours after that. A whole month before I have to go into the office. It will be strange going to work without a jacket.’
‘So, cheers.’
Lucas clinks glasses with me then turns to glance out at the city. ‘I’m gonna miss this place.’
‘Me too… and I’m really going to miss my dad.’
Lucas smiles and clinks the glass again. ‘He’ll come and visit… we’re going to have a great life, Tara. Australia will be as good to us as Ireland was. I know you’re going to love it there.’
I smile at Lucas, at his innocence, his faith, his excitement, all oozing from those big blue eyes that I’ve become so familiar with.
‘Do you think we’ll ever come back?’ I say.
‘Whatever you want, Tara. I told you, if things don’t work out I’d be willing to return here with you.’
If I hadn’t got a head full of worry, I’d believe I was the luckiest woman in the world. But I have and I’m scared.
‘I’m going to do my best to make it work, Lucas.’
‘I know you will.’
When the meal is finished I put the plates in the dishwasher and wipe down the hob. Lucas is sitting on the sofa looking at the TV.
Now is my chance to pack a few things to bring to my dad’s, so I go to the bedroom and take a case from the top of the wardrobe. A photograph falls down from under the case. I take it in my hand and turn it over to see who it is. Faye stares back at me.
The photo was taken on the wall outside my house when we were little. Even then, she had her arm around me. We were so innocent, making funny faces at the camera. I rub my finger over her face and whisper, ‘What happened to us, Faye?’ I put the photo on my bedside cabinet wondering how it ended up on top of the wardrobe.
I convince myself that it must have been in the suitcase when I moved here from my dad’s house. It seems strange that I’m only finding it now. Maybe it’s a sign, telling me to ring Faye. To ask her if she’s okay.
Without thinking twice, I dial her number. With the phone to my ear, I wait for it to ring but I’m asked to leave a message as the contact is unavailable. Faye must be in some part of the hospital with no coverage. She could be in an operating theatre for all I know, saving someone’s life. That’s Faye. I hate to think she’s worrying and has no one she can talk to about this. She needs to know she can talk to me.
‘Faye, it’s me, Tara, ring me when you get this message. We need to talk.’ I put the phone down on top of the photo and hope she might ring back.
Andriu is right about one thing; Faye did go off the rails a bit. Especially that night when she had the big row with him. She barely spoke to me after that.
The night she told me she was leaving Huntley Lodge came as a massive shock. I had just lost my mother and was about to lose my best friend. I couldn’t get my head around it and I was so absorbed in my own pain, I failed to notice Faye’s.
Was Faye being blackmailed? That would drive anyone mad. Especially as she was studying medicin
e. The white coat and stethoscope were only a few years away. If it got out that she helped me assist my mother’s passing, her career would be over.
But would she not have told me if she was being blackmailed? Especially when it was my fault?
Not if she killed the blackmailer.
Stop, Tara Moore, don’t be so ridiculous. You know that didn’t happen. But something did happen and the only way to find out is to ask Faye.
The sound from the TV travels into the bedroom, cheering, shouting, music. Suddenly there’s a different sound, a ringing. I turn away from the wardrobe and see my phone flashing on the bedside cabinet. I rush to grab the phone and look at the screen. My excitement is short-lived.
Why the hell is he ringing at this hour of the night?
Chapter Fifty-Two
Faye
My father said nothing when he pulled up outside the clinic this morning. He just sat silently waiting for me to get out of the car. Usually he utters a few words before I go through the big blue door.
He’s fed up with me, I can tell. Fed up with the endless lies, the manipulative stories. He was so disappointed when he found out I was drinking at the weekend.
The stress was written all over his face – his skin greyer, the lines on his forehead thicker. His eyes did their best not to meet mine as he looked from the side mirror to the rearview mirror, feigning concern he might be blocking someone behind us.
It was hard to watch him like this. Like he had given up all hope and was now just going through the motions until it all ended, wherever it was going to end. Good or bad, it was clear he was losing the will to care.
I wanted to tell him I felt different now. Something had happened, a breakthrough he might call it. A correction of sorts. I had been mistaken about the world I was living in. I had been lied to, given false information that pushed me down a slippery slope, where I glided through muck, clung to roots, slipping time and time again.