The Silent Friend, page 22
Chapter 36
9 MONTHS AFTER
Laura
If Declan was to be believed, he’d been a bit of a party animal in his younger years, by which Laura supposed he meant when he was at university. He’d gone to Trinity rather than Queen’s in a deliberate attempt to get away from home and sow some wild oats. That was how he told it, anyway.
Whatever he’d got up to at uni, he threw a party every year, either on his birthday or Pat’s. He liked to consider them lavish, but they were just an excuse for Declan to get his whole family and as many of his friends as possible under the same roof for a few hours.
In the end, there wasn’t a lot of preparation for Laura to help Dec and Pat with. They only had to pick up the cake. The previous year, they’d celebrated Patrick’s birthday in a community hall somewhere near Enniskillen, where Pat was from, and there had been a lot to organize, not least because it was eighty miles away and many of the guests, including Laura, needed accommodation. Laura and her mother had made a lot of the food. Thankfully, this year that hadn’t been necessary.
Declan’s fortieth birthday party was being held five miles away from the centre of Belfast in a golf club that could be booked for private functions. Guests bought their own drinks at the bar and the club provided the catering, which made everything easier. The head chef was a local celebrity that Pat had been raving about but Laura had never heard of.
‘The chicken fajitas are to die for, apparently,’ Pat informed them from the passenger seat as they headed to the golf club in Declan’s car. ‘Slow down, Dec. The cake’s in the boot.’
‘I can make chicken fajitas!’ Declan exclaimed. ‘Why would you need some top chef for that?’
‘I doubt he buys the tortillas and the seasoning mix in a packet from the supermarket, though,’ Pat pointed out.
‘Aye, fair enough.’
‘That’s it! On the right. Turn right! You’ve missed it, you bollix! I told you to slow down.’ Patrick said all of that without taking a breath or raising his voice. Laura was amazed at how they were able to bicker and banter and yet it never turned into an argument.
‘I’ll pull a U-ey.’
‘You can’t. There’s a roundabout further along the road. OK, well you can, clearly. Right, so. Well, it’s on your left now.’
The twenty-seven-hole golf course was spread out across woodland and a huge lake. The views, even from the car park, were pretty good, but from the huge dining room upstairs, they were absolutely stunning. Patrick set the birthday cake on a table in the corner, angled so that everyone would see it. The tables were beautifully laid out with candles, Irish linen tablecloths and serviettes and place cards with the guests’ names written in calligraphy. Balloons were tied to the backs of the chairs. Laura took some photos of the lake and of the room before they went downstairs to the bar to wait for the guests.
Laura’s mother had already arrived and was standing at the bar with two of her older brothers, including Declan’s dad. Declan’s mother was there, too. It was early evening, and some of the club members were still at the bar, enjoying a beer after playing a round of golf, but Laura’s uncles looked to be on the whiskey already.
‘Hello, dar-ling,’ Noreen trilled loudly. Laura thought that the greeting must be more for the benefit of the people at the bar than for her since her mother had never called her “darling” in her life. She preferred to call her “dear”, which she knew Laura hated. Noreen gave her an air kiss somewhere near one of her cheeks.
‘Mustn’t smudge my lipstick,’ she whispered in Laura’s ear.
‘Hi, Mum. You look nice.’ Noreen was wearing a fuchsia summer dress with matching hat, handbag and lipstick. She looked overdressed for a birthday party at a golf club where the only dress code was no jeans or trainers.
‘Noreen.’ Declan nodded at his aunt. ‘I’ll get the first round,’ he said to Laura. ‘You having a beer?’
All of Laura and Declan’s uncles and aunts and most of their cousins had arrived with their families before Connor arrived, carrying a huge present that partly concealed his face. He was dressed in smart navy trousers and a light blue shirt that accentuated his blue eyes. Last time Laura had seen him, he’d been wearing shorts and a T-shirt. She smiled to herself. Connor scrubbed up well.
Connor obviously knew some of Declan’s friends and he chatted with them before coming over to greet Laura, who was talking to one of her cousins. He kissed her cheek and she inhaled his lemony smell, which she remembered from the evening they’d spent on the terrasse in Le Vieux Lyon. Her cheeks were burning and she knew that her face now matched her fiery hair.
When everyone trooped upstairs to the dining room, drinks in hand, she found herself seated next to him, which she knew had to be Declan’s doing. They talked about all sorts of things as the waiters and waitresses served the starters and they tucked in. Connor told Laura that he was a full forward in his local hurling team and then he gave her a rundown on the rules because she’d never been to see the Irish field game. Laura said she was going to her first Zumba class the following Wednesday. It sounded a bit lame to Laura given that Connor played his sport at inter-county level, but he listened attentively and said all the right things.
Laura told him about her phased return to work and about her idea of starting a monthly book club. After discussing it at length that morning with Orla after Story Time Extra, her plans were now beginning to take shape. Laura had always wanted to belong to a book club.
‘I like reading,’ Connor said. ‘Will it be a particular genre?’
‘Well, hopefully if we get a few members with different reading tastes and we take it in turns to suggest books for everyone else to read, there won’t be just the one genre. Part of the fun is reading books you wouldn’t normally have chosen.’
‘Will there be booze?’ Connor asked. ‘Is it a female-only group or are men allowed?’
‘There are only two rules: members must read the book each month and drinking wine at each meeting is compulsory. At the minute, there are only two members: my colleague Orla and myself. You’d be welcome to come.’
‘Well then, make that three members.’
‘Great! Orla plays the guitar, by the way. Do you still play?’
‘Aye, I do, but just for myself, like. At home. I’ve not been on stage since … you know.’
‘Are you not working in the music industry anymore then?’ Laura asked. ‘Sorry. Am I being nosy?’
‘Not at all. I’m still earning money from mechanical royalties, but not from public performances, obviously, so I’ve been doing a bit of work for a friend on a building site. The manual labour has done me a lot of good,’ he added. ‘Plus it’s giving me pecs.’ He made a joke of pushing up his shirt sleeves and flexing his arms to show off his muscles.
‘I think those are your biceps.’ Laura laughed.
‘I was about to say, and biceps, young lady. I know my way around my own body, so I do.’
The main course came. Laura had taken Pat’s advice and gone for the fajitas whereas Connor had ordered sausages and champ, the Northern Irish spin on bangers and mash with scallions mixed in with the creamy potatoes. Laura hadn’t felt this hungry for months and thought that she could devour both meals given the chance. Her face felt like it might split from smiling so much. She remembered how easy the conversation had been with Connor the evening before the concert. She was just thinking that she hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in ages when Connor asked a question that floored her.
‘So, are you planning to go back to Lyon this August?’ he asked.
Laura choked on her beer. Why had he asked that? Why on earth would she want to go back to Lyon? ‘Wh-what?’
‘You know, for the one-year anniversary commemorations.’
‘I didn’t know anything about it,’ Laura said. ‘I suppose there would be some sort of ceremony.’
‘Yes. For the families and friends of the victims. For the survivors, too. It’s a big deal, I think.’
There was a pause while Laura let this sink in. Then she asked, ‘Are you going?’
‘I don’t want to, but I’ve been asked to play in this gig they’re doing for charity. A couple of big bands. Foo Fighters and Coldplay. They want Tom, Rich and me to play a song to kick it all off.’
‘How do you feel about that?’ She sounded like Robert. Her psychiatrist often asked her that question.
‘Scared. Nervous. Reluctant. The concert is going to be held at La Voie Lactée. They’re refurbishing the concert hall and they want to open it with this event.’
Laura shuddered. ‘Really?’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but she understood Connor’s reluctance to participate. It was an awful lot to ask of him. She couldn’t imagine ever going to another concert, let alone one in the venue where the terrorist attack had taken place.
‘It would be weird the three of us playing without Niall,’ Connor continued, ‘and it would be taking stage fright to a whole new level.
‘What do Tom and Rich think?’
‘They’re keen to do it. They want to do an acoustic version of “Don’t let this be the end”. It’s the song we were playing when—’
‘I know. I remember.’
‘I don’t want to go. At the same time, I don’t want to let Tom and Rich down. And you know what they say about when you fall off a horse.’
‘I don’t think this is anything like falling off a horse.’
‘No, you’re right. Bad analogy. Anyway, I can’t think of a better way to honour Niall’s memory. He was my best mate. I just don’t know if I’m up to it. I was wondering … would you consider going with … No, forget that. I’ve no right to ask.’
‘What? What were you going to ask?’
‘I was going to ask would you like another beer to go with your dessert?’
‘Oh.’ Laura’s half-pint was sitting in front of her, nearly full. She looked at it, and then at Connor. ‘Yes, please,’ she said.
She watched him through the glass panels in the heavy wooden doors as he headed for the stairs to the bar.
Was he about to ask her if she would go to Lyon with him? But the more she thought about it, the more improbable that idea seemed. He’d have Tom and Rich for support. He’d hardly need her. And anyway, how could she possibly set foot in any concert hall ever again, let alone La Voie Lactée? It had taken her months to go to the library, and nothing bad had happened to her inside that building. Even when she had plucked up the courage to go there, she’d had a panic attack outside and almost bottled out. The library was only a few minutes’ walk down the road whereas to get to Lyon, she’d have to get on a plane. There was no way she could go.
Connor’s words echoed in her head. I can’t think of a better way to honour Niall’s memory. She should be thinking of her friends. She should go to Lyon to honour Claire’s and Ava’s memories. And to support Connor.
Noreen barged in on Laura’s thoughts as she sat down in Connor’s empty seat. ‘I’m on my way to the loo, dear. Then I’m going to nip downstairs and buy some more drinks. Do you want something?’ She placed her hand on Laura’s arm. ‘A drop of alcohol might loosen you up a bit. You’ve got a long face like you’re at a funeral, not your cousin’s party.’
Laura almost retorted that her mother looked like she’d dressed for a wedding, not her nephew’s party, but she bit her tongue in time. It didn’t do to argue with Noreen. Laura knew from lifelong experience that she couldn’t win.
‘No, thank you,’ she said pleasantly. ‘Connor has gone to fetch some beers.’
‘Ah, Connor, is that his name? Lovely-looking man. Easy on the eye. Don’t go getting your hopes up, will you? You’ll end up getting hurt. He’s too old for you and way out of your league.’
And in a cloud of potent perfume, she was gone. Laura saw Connor hold the door open for her as he came back with their drinks.
The mood wasn’t the same after that. Conversation with Connor dried up. Laura painted a smile on her face as Declan cut the cake and opened his presents. She’d bought her cousin a beer-making kit as he’d often said he’d like to have a go at brewing his own. Connor’s enormous present turned out to be a state-of-the-art coffee machine, which Laura thought must have been expensive.
‘I think I’ll call for a taxi,’ Laura said to Connor as the other guests filed out of the dining room to the dance floor downstairs.
‘Would you like to share one?’ Connor asked. Laura hesitated. ‘It’s OK. My intentions are honourable,’ he said.
On the way home, Laura barely spoke. She berated herself for allowing her mother’s snide remark to ruin her and Connor’s evening. She wondered again if Connor had wanted to ask her to go with him to Lyon. That made her think of the support portal. She’d become a member and posted on the forum in order to find people who could relate to her experience. She’d found Sandrine, who had been very supportive.
Perhaps Connor felt that she could relate to what he’d been through. Tom and Rich had fled from the stage and managed to escape as soon as the first shots burst out, so they might not be as traumatized as Connor. That would explain why they both wanted to play at the anniversary concert whereas Connor wasn’t as enthusiastic. He’d held his best friend until he’d bled out and died. Claire was shot dead in front of Laura’s eyes. She and Connor had the same wounds, the same scars.
As the taxi pulled up in front of Laura’s place, she turned to Connor. She didn’t know why, but she badly wanted to tell him something – the secret she’d been keeping all this time. All of it, not just the truncated version she’d told Sandrine.
‘The terrorist made me choose,’ she said. ‘He made me decide who got to live: Claire or me.’ She heard Connor’s sharp intake of breath.
‘What did you say to him? I mean, what were your actual words?’
Laura lowered her head to avoid Connor’s blue gaze. When she spoke, it was no more than a whisper. ‘I said, please don’t shoot me.’
Please don’t shoot me! The plea echoed in Laura’s head. Had she known when she said that what would happen? Had she deliberately implied that Zak should shoot Claire? Or had the words slipped out before she’d had time to think? Was she simply begging for her own life? After pushing it out of her mind for so long, Laura no longer knew for sure what was going through it at the time.
‘He gave you no choice at all,’ Connor said. ‘If he’d made you choose between Claire and Ava, that would have been a horrific decision to have to make. But nobody in your situation would have sacrificed themselves. That bastard was playing a cruel, sick power game. You couldn’t win, no matter what you said.’
Tears pricked Laura’s eyes and as she went to wipe them, she realized Connor was holding her hand. She squeezed his hand to thank him.
‘And actually, you didn’t choose for your friend to die,’ Connor continued. ‘You implored the terrorist to let you live. I expect when you cried out, it was simply out of fear, Laura. It was instinctive.’
Laura was on the verge of breaking down, but did her best to hold it together. ‘I keep asking myself if there was something I could have done that might have saved both of us, you know?’ she said. ‘If I’d reacted differently when Zak ordered me to choose, maybe the outcome would have been different. Perhaps Claire would still be alive.’ A quiet sob slipped out before she could add, ‘I’ll never know if my words sentenced her to death. Maybe I should have stayed silent, refused to respond.’
‘If you’d said nothing at all, he might have shot both of you. Did you ever think of that?’
Laura shook her head. When she could speak again around the tightness in her throat, she looked at Connor again and said, ‘Can I give you my mobile number?’ Her mother would have called that brazen, but Laura no longer cared what Noreen thought of her.
Connor slid forward on the seat and took his mobile out of his trouser pocket. Laura gave him her number and Connor punched it in.
‘That way if you decide to go to Lyon, you can let me know. I wouldn’t blame you if you chose not to. But if you do go, I’ll go, too.’
And with that, she got out of the cab and shut the car door without giving Connor a chance to respond. She felt her cheeks flaming for the second time that evening as she walked away, towards the entrance door to her building, willing herself not to look back.
Chapter 37
10 MONTHS AFTER
Sandrine
Sam burst through the front door. His cheeks were red and he was out of breath. He’d said he would come home for lunch that day, so Sandrine had been expecting him, but the bemused, angry look on his face took her by surprise.
‘What on earth is the matter?’
‘I’ve just seen Maxime,’ he said, kicking off his shoes.
‘Where? Isn’t he at school?’
‘He was in front of the school. I saw him when I drove past. He didn’t see me.’
‘He must be on his lunch break.’ Sandrine went into the kitchen and Sam followed her. She looked at Max’s timetable, pinned to the fridge with magnets. ‘Look! He has two hours off. From midday until two. What’s the problem?’
‘He wasn’t alone.’
‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? If he was with friends perhaps the bullying has stopped.’
‘Not friends.’
‘Then who?’
Without answering, Sam strode out of the kitchen and along the hallway to Max’s bedroom. It was Sandrine’s turn to follow him. Sam threw open the bedroom door and looked over his shoulder at Sandrine.
‘We need to find out what’s going on,’ he said. ‘We need to check his room.’
For a moment they stood in the doorway, about to cross a line by stepping over the threshold. They’d never pried into Maxime’s personal life; never gone through his things. They’d always trusted him. They’d never had any reason not to. This bedroom was his space. His secrets should be safe here.
