Let Them Lie, page 11
How will I tolerate this visit? E. is starting to look more and more like the Harpy. If she’s not careful, maybe she’ll end up the same way! She better not start issuing orders if she knows what’s good for her. C. tries to act as though we’re the best of friends but we both know this is a LIE. B. I tolerate like a foul stench in the knowledge that it will soon pass.
Noticing that the following pages of the notebook were stuck together, Aoife went to get a nail file to separate them. By dint of careful effort, she parted the pages. To her astonishment, everything between the stuck pages had been ripped out. She counted the torn fragments; fourteen pages were missing. The remainder of the notebook was blank. Tears of frustration stung her eyes. What had happened? What was in those missing pages and why had her father ripped them out? If indeed he had.
She reread the diary. Once more she tried frantically to convince herself that the diary was a work of fiction. But it contained too many references to actual people and events. The initials used were those of his sisters and his son and daughter. A. had to be Agnes. It was impossible to deny that her father had written it, but perhaps it was a coping mechanism, an outlet for her father whenever he felt overwhelmed. He suffered from the legacy of an abusive relationship with a very controlling mother, and the pressure of family life made him feel unable to cope, so he invented a means of releasing his pent-up emotions. He imagined killing these girls and that imagining allowed him to be a good family man.
It was like a man who turned to violent porn to cope with a sex life that wasn’t fulfilling his needs. He would never act out the dark fantasies in the real world. No, he wouldn’t, couldn’t! Her father didn’t live in the time of online fantasy sites, so he created his own weird but essentially harmless world. Possibly he injected realism by latching on to actual disappearances of girls and making himself the star of the drama.
Desperately, Aoife tried to cling on to this explanation. She didn’t know her father well, but the idea of him killing people was ludicrous. It was unfortunate that she’d ever found the diary. This raised another question – who buried the diary? Why not simply destroy it? She had no answers. Still, her theory of her father imagining killing women to help him cope with his frustrations, although repellent, was something she could choose to live with as any other explanation was unbearable. But an insistent voice buried in the depths of her mind asked: ‘What about the trinkets?’ She knew the dolphin belonged to the girl called Anika and the other girl killed wore a Claddagh ring. These so-called keepsakes were in the box. Were these trinkets part of his sick fantasies? But did these girls actually exist? This was another question she couldn’t answer.
And what did he mean about Emma ending up the same way as the Harpy? The diary said his mother died in the summer. Aoife leafed through the pages, her stomach clenched. She read over the passages about the mother’s death. Was there a suggestion he had done away with his mother? He referred to her helplessness with pleasure. And the gloating way he described her lying dead on the bed after eating her last meal was sinister. Oh God, could he have murdered his mother? From what she knew of that woman she could hardly mourn her, but yet to kill your mother!
She poured herself a large glass of wine. This was crazy – rushing from one bizarre theory to another and without any real evidence.
She was spending too much time alone with this. It was time to bring in a fresh perspective. She decided to ring Kate to persuade her to meet up in the city. Her busy sister occasionally escaped family commitments and came to Dublin for some retail therapy. Kate was happy to hear from her and agreed to pop up on the train to meet her on Friday evening. Aoife even managed to persuade her to stay over until Saturday evening so there would be lots of time to talk. Kate probably thought her little sister wanted to talk about her broken engagement. She felt duplicitous letting Kate believe this, but she badly needed to talk to her – to sound her out about their father, perhaps even to reveal what she had learned about him. Sipping her now lukewarm coffee, Aoife debated over what she would reveal. Perhaps she would play things by ear – no point in upsetting her sister when she didn’t need to.
She thought again about her explanation for her father’s diary confession. If it was a fantasy, then what did the items in the box represent? She went back to her desk and looked at the innocuous biscuit tin again. It was old, and most of the lettering faded away. She couldn’t tell the brand of biscuits. She removed its contents and examined them. The little dolphin earring was cheap and made of hard plastic. It was cute but unremarkable. The Claddagh ring was a little dull, but she could tell that it was gold. Reluctantly she tried it on her little finger. She shivered and wrenched it off. The scarf felt like silk but it was synthetic; the colour was bright, gay, against the cold metal of the box interior. She examined the tube of lipstick, a bright pink, but couldn’t bring herself to rub it on her skin. The most sinister item was the lock of dark hair tied with a shoelace.
Aoife desperately wanted to believe her reassuring explanation for the events described in the notebook, but her head presented her with insistent nagging doubts. Unless she made some effort to find out who owned these items, she might never sleep again. She could at least find out if girls went missing around the time of Sam’s birth. She had all day to fill in, so why not investigate? Her laptop took a while powering up and then she typed, ‘missing women in Ireland’ on the search engine. She clicked on a Garda website and saw lists of men and women missing in Ireland over several decades. As she read through the various cases, she felt sickened at the possibility that her father could be responsible for some of them. In recent years, many of the missing men and women were foreign nationals. What human tragedy lay behind their disappearance?
She searched back through the years. 1978 was the year Sam was born so she checked out that list.
Her heart stopped when she saw the name Anika and looked at the smiling face of a young girl. That was the name her father mentioned in the diary. So, the name in the diary was related to a real girl who went missing. Did that mean her father was responsible for her death? It would be comforting to believe he just borrowed from reality but she could feel her hope ebbing. She stared at the beaming face and felt her stomach lurch as she noticed a dolphin earring dangling from one ear. Fighting the need to be physically sick, her unwilling eyes read over the details. The girl was Dutch; she went missing whilst backpacking in Ireland in April 1978. She scoured the internet for any more details. She came across accounts in local and national papers. It all fitted – her nationality, her name. God, even the dates fitted. Sam was born on the 3rd of April. Everything in the diary was true. Her mother was busy with her first child and had no time for her husband. He felt alienated and angry. Instead of showing his anger to Agnes or their child, he vented all his poison on an innocent stranger. This time she couldn’t hold back as the contents of her stomach met her teeth.
CHAPTER 17
Garda Siochána
Missing Persons
Anika Bakker from Middleberg, Holland
Date: Missing since 26th April 1978
Born: 24/4/1955
Age: 23 years
Height: 5ft 7
Hair: brown
Eyes: brown
Build: slight
Nationality: Dutch
Anika was on a backpacking holiday around Ireland. She arrived on the 24th of April and spent two nights in Dublin in a city-centre hostel. On the 26th of April, she travelled by train to Sligo, intending to explore the northwest of the country. She had made plans to meet friends in Galway on Thursday the 4th of May. When she failed to turn up, her friends became concerned and contacted her family in Holland. The Garda were contacted, and Anika was reported as missing.
The last sighting of Anika was on Thursday the 26th of April, on the Sligo/Bundoran road. She was observed attempting to hitch a lift. Anika was wearing a bright-blue ski jacket and carrying a dark-coloured rucksack. If anyone has any information on the whereabouts of Anika, please contact the Garda station in Sligo or the Garda Confidential Line.
Aoife put the missing girl’s name in the search engine and found newspaper reports that made her stomach twist.
Sligo Champion May 1978
Gardaí are appealing for the public’s help in their search for a missing woman, Anika Bakker aged 23. She was last seen on the Sligo/Bundoran road on Thursday the 26th of April. Anika is a native of Middelburg, Holland. She is 5ft 7 tall, of slim build. She has brown eyes and long brown hair usually worn in plaits. When last seen, she was wearing blue jeans and a bright-blue ski jacket. Anika’s family and friends are eager to hear news of her whereabouts. If you have any information, please contact the Garda Station in Sligo, or ring the Garda Confidential Line.
Sligo Champion July 1978
Vigil for Missing Backpacker
A candlelit vigil will be held on Thursday, 7th July at 7 pm in the Wine St car park in memory of Anika Bakker. Anika has been missing for over two months. The local community will be joined by the family and friends of the missing woman. Local priests and ministers will lead prayers for her safe return. Organisers of the vigil say they want to show their solidarity with her distraught family and friends. Anika was last seen on the 26th of April and despite an extensive Garda search has not been located.
Irish Times 1978
Anguish of Family of Missing Backpacker
Anika Bakker, a graduate of Groningen University in Holland, went missing while on holiday in Ireland. She arrived in Dublin on the 24th of April and contacted her parents to say she planned to stay for a few nights in a city-centre hostel. The hostel confirmed her arrival, and the staff and fellow hostellers remember her talking of plans to travel to the west of the country. On Thursday the 26th of April she took the morning train to Sligo. She had told friends that she wished to spend a few days travelling around the northwest of the country, arranging to meet up with them in Galway on May 4th. When she failed to arrive, they contacted the local Garda. Anika has not been located to date.
Irish Times 1987
Remembering Anika Bakker
Lotte Bakker, sister of missing backpacker Anika Bakker, speaks of the heartbreak endured by Anika’s family since she went missing 10 years ago. Anika was just 22 when she planned to celebrate completing her degree in Economics at the University of Groningen by taking time off backpacking around Ireland. Ireland had a special place in her heart, and she had fond memories of holidaying with her parents in County Cork as a child. She arranged to spend a week on her own exploring the northwest of the country and planned to meet up after with old friends from university in Galway city. She rang her parents when she arrived in Ireland and told them she was staying in a Dublin city-centre hostel for two nights before catching the morning train to Sligo.
The hostel confirmed her arrival, and the staff and fellow hostellers remember her talking of her plans to travel to the west. She mentioned her desire to explore Donegal and Sligo and then travel on to Galway to meet friends. She was last seen wearing a bright-blue ski jacket on the Bundoran road at around midday. That is the last reported sighting of her.
Lotte says her family, particularly her mother, are heartbroken. Even though ten years have passed, her mother still cannot bring herself to give up hoping that her lovely girl will come home. Her father Pieter died two years ago and his wife, devastated by the loss of both husband and child, is desperate for any news about her eldest daughter. Lotte was a teenager when her sister went missing. She described Anika as a loving person, an animal lover and a keen athlete. She especially enjoyed swimming and surfing. Lotte said she looked up to her big sister and her loss has created a gaping hole in her life that is impossible to fill.
Anika had her entire life ahead of her. After completing her degree, she received many job offers before finally accepting a position in Amsterdam. She loved to travel and planned to save up for a trip to Southeast Asia.
Recently, her friends from school and college held a memorial to celebrate her life. It was a wonderful evening, a bittersweet experience for her family. She is gone, but not forgotten by her legions of friends.
Lotte believes that someone may have some information about her sister, and she begs them to come forward. ‘What my family has endured is harrowing,’ she said. ‘My mother needs some peace, to know what has become of her beloved daughter. Her greatest fear is dying without knowing what happened to Anika.’ Lotte asks anyone with any information to please come forward. ‘Maybe you have noticed someone behaving oddly in the locality or even in your family. If you have any information at all, please bring it to the local Garda,’ she implores.
She went on to say the Garda have been very supportive and the local community in Sligo and people throughout Ireland have shown great kindness to her family. She wanted to thank all those who wrote letters to comfort them.
Lotte consented to this interview, as anniversaries are opportunities to encourage members of the public to search their memories for any piece of information that might be useful.
Aoife couldn’t bear to read any more. It was enough to know that the girl in the notebook was a real person with a life, a family and a future until she had the misfortune to meet Manus O’Driscoll. Her head began to spin, and the walls of the flat closed in on her until she was desperate to flee from it. But where to? Wherever she went, her thoughts and her dirty knowledge would follow her like a satanic shadow. Instead, she brought a bottle of wine to bed and drank straight from the bottle, staining the white sheets red as she gulped it down like medicine.
CHAPTER 18
After work the following day, Aoife prepared the guest room for Kate and made chilli for dinner. Her sister had got an afternoon train and hoped to be at her flat by seven at the latest. While cooking the rice, she contemplated what to say to Kate. Perhaps she should just get her talking about her childhood and how Dad had been as a parent. Referring to her father as ‘Dad’ now repulsed her. Her memories of him had been few but treasured and probably embellished with recalling.
It was like he was one of those creatures in video games her students played – Nephilim – half-demon half-angel. How did this monster square with the father she loved? She remembered helping him off with his wellies in the evening when he came in from the farm and him encouraging her to pull so hard that she fell over laughing. He had never spoken to her harshly and slipped her sweeties whenever she got a scolding from her mother. On reflection, he acted like a big brother, hiding her when she was in trouble and warning her when the annoying Baby was looking for her. These memories she had cherished, but she barely knew him. If she closed her eyes, the only other images that came were of his back as he headed out to the fields or him sitting watching the news as he smoked cigarette after cigarette. After her search online yesterday, she knew she should check out dates of girls missing around the time of her and Kate’s birthdays, but she hadn’t the stomach for it.
Her phone rang: it was Kate outside her flat. She raced downstairs to let her in.
After they hugged, Kate held her shoulders in her small capable hands and stared deep into her eyes as she asked, ‘How are you coping, pet?’
For a terrifying moment Aoife thought that somehow Kate must have found out about the box, but then realised her sister was referring to her broken engagement.
‘I’m fine, really I am. Come on in, I bet you’re starving. How was it on the train?’
‘Actually, the train was fine. I got a seat and even dozed off for an hour, so I feel great. What’s for dinner? It certainly smells fantastic.’
Aoife cracked open the bottle of red that Kate had brought and got her sister to set the table while she dished up.
They chatted about their work and the family in Sligo until they finished eating.
‘To tell the truth, I’m worried about Sam,’ Kate confided as they brought their glasses of wine to the couch and sat, stretching their legs out.
‘Why, is there something wrong with him?’ Aoife asked sharply.
‘Nothing I know about, but he hasn’t been the same since Nell died. I suppose it was a reminder of when Polly died – you remember the collie Dad had. It died a few days after the funeral, and I remember how upset Sam was when he buried that dog. He showed more emotion about the dog than when he heard Dad died. I think the dog dying allowed him to express the pain of losing Dad.’
‘Where was it buried, Kate?’
‘I don’t know – somewhere in the back garden. To be honest, everything was a bit of a blur back then. Can you remember Polly at all?’
Aoife had an image of an old dog stretched out in the sun beside her, as she lay on the grass reading a book about horses, one of her long-lost passions. Polly had been ancient and not like the playful puppy that she dreamed about. She had a vague memory of her father promising her a puppy whenever Polly passed away. He told her that poor Polly would be jealous if some young pup usurped her position in the family.
‘Aye, I remember her, but she seemed so old and was always sleeping. I don’t remember playing with her – she was just a presence in the yard.’
‘Ah well, she was more of a working dog than a pet, but she was so attached to Daddy, always following him around the yard and greeting him every morning at the crack of day.’
