Let Them Lie, page 29
‘We may go for a drink afterwards,’ Agnes confided, blushing a little.
By the time a car arrived, driven by a dapper elderly gentleman, she was wearing a pretty summer frock and had a pale blue cardigan slung jauntily around her shoulders. Aoife felt a wash of protectiveness as she watched her slip into the white Golf.
Sam was amazed when Aoife told him their shy mother was dating. ‘I’m glad she’s having a little fun. God knows she hasn’t had much of a social life.’
‘Will I see if Kate wants to come over, now that we can talk in peace?’ Aoife said. ‘Or maybe you need a break from all this?’
‘Aoife, I haven’t had a break from “all this” as you call it for twenty years – yeah, call her.’
Kate answered at once. ‘Yes, Aoife, what is it?’ She sounded wary.
‘Mam is going out this evening, and Sam and I wondered if you’d like to come over.’
After a brief pause, Kate said, ‘I’ll be there in about a half an hour,’ and ended the call without saying goodbye.
Sam went back outside to finish a few jobs. The house, uncharacteristically silent, made Aoife conscious of how rarely her mother left home. She had gone into purdah after the death of Manus. How heart-breaking that the few tentative steps she was taking into life again were about to be crushed by the juggernaut heading their way.
She tidied the kitchen to pass the time. On hearing Kate’s car pulling up outside, she put the kettle on. Her sister greeted her coolly, glancing at her with wary eyes. Aoife busied herself making a pot of tea, and was pouring out when Sam walked in. They sat down, each careful to avoid touching each other. It was like they had a contagion they were desperate to avoid.
‘Where’s Mam gone?’ Kate asked. ‘It’s not like her to be out two nights in a row.’
‘We think she’s on a date,’ Aoife said.
‘You’re joking! Mam out on a date? I don’t believe it!’
‘Well, maybe a date is putting it strongly, but there is this guy from the Active Age Group who has been friendly and asked her out to see a movie.’
‘Wow!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘Good for her.’
‘She even put on make-up – I swear she was giddy as a teenager.’ Aoife continued, happy to keep the light atmosphere going.
‘Well, there will be an end to all that if you get your way, Aoife,’ Kate said.
At that, silence settled over them and they sat avoiding each other’s eyes.
At length, Sam spoke up abruptly. ‘Well, we better get started, hadn’t we? We must come to some decision.’
‘Look, lads,’ said Kate, ‘I was thinking about it all – and you don’t have any proof. All we know is that Dad had a crappy childhood, and his way of coping was writing about murdering people. He made it more real by using real-life disappearances to hang his fantasies on.’
‘Well, how do you explain his reaction when Sam found the box?’ Aoife demanded. ‘Why did he attack him?’
‘Because Dad was ashamed – he didn’t want Sam to know about this dark side of his life. And he was afraid of Mam finding out. She had Dad on such a pedestal, and he couldn’t bear her to know about these sick fantasies. That’s all they were. Aoife, you and Sam have conflated all the stuff in the notebook to mean more than what it is – the delusional fantasies of a man tortured by an abusive childhood.’
‘OK, so you’re suggesting he made the whole thing up,’ said Aoife. ‘The diary was a complete fantasy inspired by real-life events. Then how do you explain the trinkets in the box? We know Mary Bernadette had a Claddagh ring – how do you explain that?’
Kate nodded. ‘But don’t you see, that’s just it. Dad wanted to make it feel real, so he bought things that would make it more credible to him. It makes sense, you know it does.’
‘And what about the initials PF engraved on the ring?’
‘He could have heard about that on the news.’
‘And had PF engraved on the ring? How could he risk asking any engraver to do that?’
‘Well, he wasn’t in a stable state of mind, was he?’
Sam looked at Kate bleakly. ‘I wish what you’re saying were true, but when I confronted him he throttled me, and for a minute I thought he was going to kill me. I had his finger marks on my neck for days, terrified that Mam would see them.’
‘I know you don’t want to believe all this, Kate, but we have to accept facts,’ Aoife said. ‘The Guards can investigate, see if the things in the box belonged to any of these missing women and then we can know the truth. There are too many coincidences. Maybe you have lingering doubts, but Sam and I don’t. Do you think we want to believe Dad was this monstrous person? But he was and I think deep down you know that.’
Kate didn’t respond but her eyes filled with trears.
‘Kate, will I fetch the box?’ Aoife asked. ‘After all, you haven’t had much time to examine it.’
‘I never want to see that bloody box again! If I could send it to hell to join its author, I’d be delighted!’
‘So you do accept Dad committed the murders?’ Sam said.
‘Let me see the box again, so I can convince myself it’s real.’
As Aoife fetched the box, Sam asked, ‘Did you get any sleep at all after we left, Kate?’
‘No, not for a moment, but then I’d say you’ve been staring at the ceiling a lot over all these years, Sam. I’m truly sorry you didn’t feel able to talk to me and share the load.’
‘Ah, how could I do that? What would be the point of ruining your life too? Besides, I was afraid of going to prison for killing Dad.’
‘Sam, that was an accident, self-defence.’
‘You said it yourself yesterday – that I could be jailed for manslaughter. And how could I prove it was an accident? I left him alone to die. I didn’t get help to save him.’
‘Jesus, Sam, I can’t imagine the hell your life has been.’
Sam nodded and relapsed into silence.
Aoife returned and placed the box carefully on the table. ‘Do you want time to read the diary again, Kate?’
Kate reached for the box, stopped, shuddered, and shook her head.
Aoife sat down. ‘OK, we have to decide what to do. As things stand, I believe we must put all this information in the hands of the Garda. It will be horrific, but we have no choice. I’m no lawyer but doesn’t it make us accessories if we sit on this?’
Kate spoke, her voice shrill. ‘But Sam is already an accessory! He could get into serious trouble because he kept all this information hidden, not to mention his fight with Dad. Aoife, how will going to the Guards help anyone? OK, it will give the families closure but it will inflict a new nightmare on them too. And it will create new victims. How can we do this to Mam? She deserves better. Aoife, your intentions are good but the price we will pay for your peace of mind is too high and I for one don’t want to pay it.’
Aoife opened her mouth to argue. But she was stilled by Sam’s raised hand.
‘Wait a minute, both of you. I can see you can argue this out all night and every night and never agree. But, as I’m the one most affected by all this, I should get to make the final decision about what we do. Kate, I can see why you want to bury this but, with respect, I don’t think you understand what keeping a secret like this does, how it eats you up inside and squeezes everything else out, so you feel like a rotting husk. I haven’t lived these past twenty years, just existed. I’ve paid a terrible price for my silence. And Aoife, I know you will feel tormented by your conscience if we keep our secret. It would drive a rift between us all, a rift that would hurt Mam and destroy our family.’
‘And Aoife’s choice wouldn’t destroy the family?’ Kate said with savage sarcasm.
‘I know, Kate – you’re right, it would. I am not arguing that going public is the least destructive course of action – but I want you and Aoife to recognise that keeping silent would not be an easy path to follow. It would be a burden we three would have to bear together. A heavy burden of guilt and pain. A cross to bear. I know. I have lived that.’
‘OK, so what are you saying, Sam?’ Aoife said.
‘What I’m saying is that I get to decide what to do. I’ve earned that right, don’t you think? And I am the person it would most immediately impact.’ He stared grimly at his sisters and they each dropped their gaze. ‘So are we agreed?’
The two girls nodded and wordlessly they got up and hugged each other tightly.
CHAPTER 51
April 2017
Aoife had been expecting the phone call. She had been expecting it from the day her mam received her diagnosis. She became ill in January. At first they thought it was the after-effects of bad flu, but she became sicker, losing all her energy and zest for life. She waited two months for a diagnosis. They said she had lung cancer. Years of sitting side by side with her chain-smoking husband had taken their toll. Kate had commented bitterly that Manus had killed her from beyond the grave. Her daughters accompanied her to the consultant, and she took the news with courage. Her health spiralled downwards rapidly, and her remaining months were a round of painful treatments. Most of her care rested with Sam, but Kate was available to offer him relief. Aoife buried herself in work, coming home every weekend to help nurse her mother.
Now listening to Sam’s low voice saying Mam was dead, the ache of loss settled over her like a dark cloud. He told her that the hospice would release her body in the evening, and she would come home.
‘Don’t come down until morning, there’s no point,’ he said.
Feeling unable to argue, she agreed.
‘Drive carefully,’ he reminded her and then there was silence.
In the morning, she rang the principal, explaining she wouldn’t be coming to work as her mother had died. As she said those words, her insides shivered a little. She promised to pass on funeral details and then packed some clothes, with something dark to wear to the funeral.
On the drive home, Aoife remembered an earlier journey home, an innocent time when all was well, and all the ugliness in the future. She arrived at the house at midday. No one was home. She read the note propped up on the table. Sam and Kate were at the hospice. She considered driving in to meet them, but was reluctant to face the reality of her mother dead, in the place where she had tried so hard to be cheerful and patient and where she relinquished her tenuous hold on life.
She set about getting lunch together and was surprised to find several tins of tomato soup in the larder. Mam would never countenance bought soup, never mind tinned soup – how things had changed! Feeling disloyal, she opened the tins and poured them into a saucepan to heat. There were brown rolls in the bread bin. They were a little stale, but she was ravenous. She was sitting there, eating her soup and tearing off chunks of bread when Kate and Sam arrived. They hugged and Aoife offered them lunch.
Afterwards, they cleaned the house and cleared out the living room to make way for the coffin. Agnes had chosen it weeks ago; saying she wanted no fuss and no silly expense either. It was a simple bamboo affair. The house was gleaming when the undertakers arrived. With Sam’s help, they carried the coffin into the room they had prepared. They briefly discussed the funeral arrangements and left.
Aoife joined Sam and Kate as they stared down at their mam. She was wearing her favourite dress, her soft grey hair fluffed gently against her face. She looked like Mam, but Mam with all the animation and light drained away.
‘She looks peaceful anyway – after all the pain she’s finally free,’ Sam said.
‘Did she wake before ... ?’ Aoife asked.
‘Mam died just after ten yesterday evening. She never woke. We were with her and held her hand as she slipped away. It was peaceful, Aoife.’
‘I wish I could have been there,’ Aoife said, her eyes smarting. ‘Does Phil know?’
Phil was the companion of Agnes’s last year. She had refused to call him her boyfriend, just her friend.
‘Phil was with Mam at the end,’ Sam said. ‘We called him when the staff told us she was dying. Poor man, he was glad we called him.’
‘What time are the aunts coming?’ Aoife asked.
‘They said they would travel down together in Emma’s car. I think they’ll be here around seven. What time did you give for the wake, Sam?’
‘Five o’clock onwards and then the funeral tomorrow at eleven. I said just family before we go to the church.’
‘What about food for the wake?’
‘Don’t worry – the neighbours have been great – they will be dropping around food at four and the Caseys have given us a big Burco boiler, so we don’t have to keep boiling kettles for tea.’
Soon the house filled with neighbours offering sympathy and bearing plates covered in tin foil, containing sandwiches, cakes, and scones. The kindness of the greetings of these old neighbours of their mother warmed the house. They extolled her virtues and excused their modest food offerings as being a poor imitation of Agnes’s beautiful baking. As the evening wore on, there was a steady stream of visitors offering condolences, sharing stories and reminiscing.
Jack turned up and whispered in Aoife’s ear, ‘Sorry for your loss.’
She smiled and, squeezing her hand, he held it a moment too long, winked at her and disappeared out the door. She found his sympathy oddly comforting. He was kind, she reflected, underneath his devil-may-care facade.
Her fingers ached from being gripped by countless hands. But there was comfort in the intense, heartfelt offerings of sympathy. A steady procession of people trooped in to view the body and speak of how peaceful she looked and what a beautiful corpse she made.
The aunts arrived on the dot of seven. After paying their respects to Agnes, they moved to the sitting room where they feasted happily on tea, sandwiches and cake. They enjoyed catching up with neighbours and old school friends, or more likely the children of old school pals. It was a trip down memory lane for them. Aoife suspected they were wondering about their own final send-off – after all, they were all getting on in age. When you’re old, did the inevitability of death ease the fear?
At ten o’clock the crowds had thinned out, and only close friends and family remained. Father Francis arrived and led a decade of the rosary. Afterwards, he squeezed her arm and left.
Downstairs, Emma signalled imperiously and, when her niece drew near, demanded sherry. As Aoife poured out a sweet, a medium and a dry sherry, she felt a sense of déjà vu. She carried the drinks to her aunts, who were sitting in the warmth of the sitting room. With the lights dimmed, the firelight gave them a look of elegance and glamour as from a bygone day. The illusion shattered when Emma snapped at Baby for hogging the fire and Baby whined that Emma was rude and selfish. Clarissa, ever the peacemaker, moved up to make more room. Siblings didn’t grow up; they stayed caught in their childish dynamic till death claimed them. Would it be the same for her and Sam and Kate?
Sipping their drinks, the old ladies spoke kindly of Agnes, especially Clarissa, who truly appreciated the qualities of her sister-in-law. At midnight they got up and headed for the local B&B.
Emma, her voice slurring slightly, said, ‘We’ll be over in the morning before the coffin is closed to say the last farewell.’
Phil went up to sit with their mother while they saw the aunts off. They gave him some time alone with her, and then he came down and shook each of their hands.
Aoife walked him to the door.
‘She was a lovely woman, Aoife,’ he said. ‘We had some good times before she got ill. I don’t know if you know I was married before – my wife died of cancer too. I was fond of her, but Agnes, well, Agnes was special. I wish I’d had more time with her.’
‘She cared about you too, Phil.’
‘Ah, I know she did – but, you know, I think your father was the love of her life. She didn’t have to say it, yet I knew. But, you know what, being second best was good enough for me. Agnes didn’t have the last anniversary get-together as a kindness to me. But she remembered your dad’s passing and marked it in her way.’
Then giving her a warm hug, Phil left and drove away.
Once the last stragglers had gone, they cleaned up and by unspoken assent Aoife and Sam sat up with Agnes’s body all night. They waked her with words of love and appreciation, recalling her warmth and constancy. It was only right that their mam should have their undivided attention on this last night in the house where she spent all her married life.
In the morning, they changed into sober suits and waited for the undertakers. At eleven, the men arrived and closed the casket, and prepared to lift it onto the hearse. Outside, more neighbours had arrived.
Aoife spotted Sorcha and her heart tilted sideways as she saw Connor. He nodded to her and lowered his eyes quickly. They got in their cars and followed the hearse to the church. The service passed in a blur. Sandy sang a psalm and Colm, Kenny, Kate, and Sam read the bidding prayers. Father Francis spoke briefly but sincerely of Agnes, calling her a woman of grace and kindness personified.
The graveyard was cold and, watching her mother lowered to the ground, Aoife’s heart ached. Then Clarissa, dear lovely Clarissa, broke into quavering song with ‘Amazing Grace’ and everyone with a note in their head joined in with her.
The family lined up so that all the mourners could shake their hands. It heartened Aoife to see several work colleagues and the principal in attendance. Sam invited everyone present to join them in McCoy’s for a bit of lunch.
Lunch was strangely festive, with neighbours meeting up, and old friends reconnecting. For the first time in days, nobody spoke of Agnes. When the bill arrived, Sam, Aoife and Kate split it three ways.
The aunts hugged their nieces and nephews, told them to keep in touch and left.
Then Kate told Kenny to drive the youngsters home as she planned to spend the night in her old home with Sam and Aoife.
