The Secrets He Kept, page 18
‘Fine,’ Burke says, pushing back from the table and moving the conversation on. ‘Joyce McCarthy said she heard on the news that Claire had been killed and presumed Kenny was being taken care of by his father. Here. At this house.’
‘But if she’s nothing to hide why didn’t she just go to you guys?’
‘She said she wanted to speak to Kenny first, that was her priority.’
Tom pulls his chair in closer, resting his elbows on the table before joining in. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I know it’s a lot to take in.’
‘What did Kenny say about it? Does he know her? Did he meet her?’
Burke shuffles her feet, gliding her hands across the table again before lifting her gaze to me. Every time she looks at me I think she’s going to accuse me of something. ‘He says he doesn’t know her, didn’t even know she existed.’
‘Do you believe him?’ I ask.
Tom quickly turns his head and stares at me like I’ve just said something rude to the cop.
‘It’s a valid question, Tom.’
‘At the moment we have no reason to disbelieve him but this investigation is only starting.’
‘Did she say what happened? Why Kenny isn’t living with her?’
‘Joyce McCarthy maintains that Kenny was taken from her at birth by her mother who told her he had died at birth. Then she was sent to live with her uncle in the USA which is where she lived until coming home for the first time last week.’
‘But…’ Tom is speechless.
‘Their mother is dead… look, it’s a lot to get your heads around so I’ll leave it at that for now. In the meantime, can I ask you to pay attention to what Kenny does or says. If he says anything that reveals he already knew the woman before she called to the house last week or anything you think might help the investigation, give us a call on this number.’
She hands Tom a card, another card. I think we have three of them already.
‘Okay.’ He takes the card and glances at it. I’m sitting here not wanting the detective to leave already. Why doesn’t she question Kenny again instead of asking us to spy on him? Or listen and watch carefully as she puts it.
‘Is she still in custody?’ I ask, standing up along with everyone else.
‘No, she left the station two hours ago.’
‘But…’ My heart stops. ‘So she’s back out on the street?’
Burke straightens her back and moves away from the chair. ‘We have no reason to hold her.’
‘I thought she killed the woman… her sister, isn’t it?’ I’m getting flustered now and losing my ability to remember the details.
‘These are only allegations, we have no evidence yet, no reason to hold her.’
‘What about stalking our house? What about that? What if she comes back?’
‘She shouldn’t come back we’ve made that very clear to her. If she does, you have the number.’ The two cops are moving into the hallway now as a file load of questions build up in my head.
When the door closes behind them, I grab Tom’s arm before he goes inside and tells the boys I’m home. ‘Tom.’
‘Ye.’
‘Well… can you tell?’
‘Tell what Sally?’
‘Which sister you were with?’
‘No, that was seventeen years ago on a drunken night in a dark alleyway, I can barely remember what I looked like.’
A dark alleyway, how fucking romantic. ‘And you never saw her afterwards.’
‘No, Sal, just that one night… I’m sure she told me her name earlier on in the club, the whole team were the centre of attention after winning the championship. The girls were all over us and…’
‘Well, she certainly remembered your name.’
It wouldn’t have been hard to track Tom down. The team photos were all over the Evening Herald, their names, the club. But why didn’t she contact him when she found out she was pregnant? Unless she didn’t want him to know. So why now?
‘Do you think you should have a word with Kenny, see what you can find out?’
‘I’m not sure, Sal, I think we should leave it to the police.’ He pushes open the door and calls out to the boys. ‘Mam’s home.’
That’s one way to end the conversation.
Cian jumps from the sofa, runs and hug me. ‘Mammy, mammy, mammy.’ Aaron pulls himself up off the floor and walks over, dragging a small bean bag with him. Releasing Cian from my hug, I put him on the ground then kneel to give Aaron a hug.
‘They were fighting over that earlier,’ Amber says, nodding at the bean bag that Aaron doesn’t want to let go of. He puts one arm out to hug me. Holding him close I squeeze him a little tighter than I should, inhaling his innocence before releasing him back into his own little world. Pale blue eyes dominate his chubby face, blonde hair hangs like puppy tails across his forehead.
‘Cocoa.’
‘Of course, Aaron, Mammy’s going to make you cocoa now… do you want some, Cian?’
Cian jumps. ‘Yes. Yes. Yes.’ They follow me into the kitchen, sit at the table and wait for their hot chocolate with marshmallows floating on top. Aaron always wants five exactly, no more, no less. Cian likes as many as I can fit in the mug.
‘I think I should have my own TV in my room.’ Amber walks into the kitchen claiming it’s impossible to watch her programmes with the twins playing in front of the television. And if Kenny can have one, why can’t she?
I never wanted a situation where everyone stayed in different rooms watching television instead of mixing with their family but things have changed. Once again I must lower my standards, I tell her I’ll think about it.
‘Maybe your dad can pick one up at the weekend.’
Amber thanks me then rushes out of the room before I can change my mind or attach conditions to it.
The smell of chocolate fills the air reminding me I haven’t eaten yet. When the boys are in bed I’ll ring for a take-out.
With the marshmallows on board I hand the boys two mugs asking them to be careful not to spill any when Kenny walks into the kitchen.
‘Oh sorry… I didn’t know you were in here.’ He turns to walk back out.
‘Kenny, come back.’ He stops and turns to look at me. ‘You can come in here whenever you like, you don’t have to wait until the room is empty. If this is going to work you’re going to have to feel at home. I want you to feel at home, so come on in, whatever it is you want, take it.’
Slowly, his eyes travel around the room like he’s reassessing his needs.
‘Would you like a hot chocolate?’
Kenny watches the boys pick marshmallows out of their mugs.
‘Don’t worry… I won’t give you a Thomas the Tank mug.’ He smiles at me. The kid has a lovely smile.
‘Okay, thank you, Sally.’
I watch him trying not to slurp from the mug. I want to ask him if he knows Joyce? What he thinks about her story? But he’s just a young boy, drinking hot chocolate at the table with his three-year-old half-brothers, making them laugh with his funny faces.
* * *
Later that night, after Amber made me sit and watch her try on every dress in her goddamn wardrobe before settling on what she’d wear to Sarah’s party, I rest on the sofa with a glass of wine in my hand. Kenny is in his room, no howls of pain so far tonight.
Tom was itching to go for a pint with the lads, he didn’t ask but I could tell, so I suggested he go out for a while. Truth is, I needed a break from him. I wanted him out from under me. I want to relax on my own, in my pyjamas, on my sofa with red wine. The remote in hand and a mind that needs to be ignored. It’s impossible to do that with Tom in the room.
I thought about asking Donna to come around for a drink but I dropped that idea as soon as it arrived in my head. Knowing Donna, she’d sit at the end of Kenny’s bed and drag his whole life story out of him. Probably have his bag packed and a one-way ticket to Joyce the mystery mother’s manor in the USA. No. It’s best I sit on my own tonight. Especially with that hair show on tomorrow night. I need to get to bed early.
I’ll only have the two small glasses, which is what I’m doing when out of nowhere a thought crashes into my head. She must have told him. Joyce. She must have told Kenny who his dad was.
Tom is adamant Claire McCarthy did not want Kenny to know about him, so who else could have told him? She must have got in touch with him before now, contacted him from the States to tell him who his father was. It had to be her. Suddenly I feel a little scared of the hot-chocolate-slurping kid in the room a few feet away from me. If he’s lying about that, what else could he be lying about?
Glass in hand, I quietly step out into the hallway and hold my ear against the door of the playroom. The only sound I can hear is the muffle of the TV on low. I consider knocking on his door, then decide against it. I’ll talk to Tom tomorrow, see if he can get the truth out of Kenny because I don’t think he has so far.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
‘It’s important, Tom. I don’t need you fucking this up.’
‘I won’t, I know what I’ve to do, first you, then Amber.’ Ellen is to be here at six thirty and wait until Tom is back from picking Amber up from the party at ten. ‘And I’m not to leave the house once I get back from dropping you to the RDS until I collect Amber.’
‘Good, just make sure you stick to that.’
‘I will, Mammy.’
‘Don’t mock me, Tom, I didn’t ask for any of this.’ A quick reminder of whose mess this is and he’s back in his box.
Tom must perform like an army recruit in his final exam. There’s no room for error. Kenny is not to be left here on his own until I’m certain he’s telling the truth. It might sound overly dramatic, do I care? No.
Amber has appointments the whole afternoon, nails, hair, make-up. My own hair will get done sometime during the day, whenever the chance arises. Sienna said she’d do make-up for some of us before we go home to change. The hair show starts at 7 p.m.
It’s unfortunate that the two events landed on the same night. I would have loved to drop Amber to Sarah’s party, even though it’s only two blocks away. As it stands I’ll have a mere fifteen minutes to change before I’m back out the door. Thank God for Ellen.
Maybe Tom and Ellen can have that all important what-the-hell-happened? chat tonight while they’re on their own. Tom hasn’t properly discussed the situation with his mother yet, so this will be their opportunity.
It just goes to show, ye think ye know people. I would have bet my house on Ellen being a lot nosier, that she’d ask a lot more questions about Kenny and how he came to be, but she hasn’t. In fact, it’s slightly worrying. Did she know already? Don’t be stupid, Sal, now you’re definitely letting your mind wander.
Tom is in the kitchen cooking sausages for his enlarged family, the sizzling smell filling the whole house. Amber comes rushing down the stairs.
‘Ma.’
‘What is it, Amber, I’m in a hurry.’ Pulling my jacket on, I look in the mirror and make a plan to fix what I see looking back at me while I’m in the car on the way to work.
‘Money.’
‘What about money?’
‘I need some.’
‘Ask your father. I’m in a hurry.’
‘Ye know him, Ma, he’ll have a fit when he hears how much I need to get ready for the party.’
‘Well, he’s right.’
Actually, Amber’s right. Tom will go on and on about how many rounds of golf he could play for the cost of getting highlights, or how many pints he can get for the price of a false tan. I don’t want Amber to have to listen to that bullshit. Not at the moment. It’s important she gets to enjoy this party, take her mind off what’s going on at home.
I become aware of the closed door beside me housing Kenny and whisper the
instructions.
‘There’s money in the bottom drawer of my jewellery box, Amber.’
‘Thanks, Ma.’ Running back up the stairs Amber shouts for her father to cook her two sausages and I head out the door.
* * *
The salon is already buzzing when I arrive. Hoping to finish earlier than usual to facilitate the staff getting to the hair show on time, Megan has timed the appointments so we can be all out the door by five at the latest. It’s so busy I have no time to feed my worries. But they linger at the back of my head, a dark cloud waiting to drop its rain on me.
‘Do you think Anna has a chance?’ Marie says, both of us pushing the dregs of two chicken wraps down our throat that were bought in a hurry from the Spar shop on the corner.
‘Yes, I think her presentation is fabulous, have you seen it?’
‘No, but I heard it was good.’
Megan is referring to Anna’s entry into the ‘Fabulous Hairstyle’ section of the show. She’s one of three categories the salon qualified for. The ‘Fabulous Hairstyle’ category, the ‘Long Hair’ category and the ‘Best Salon’ category. It’s the first time we’ve qualified for three so we’re hoping to come away with at least one trophy tonight.
The black water flows between my fingers, colour disguising the passing of time on Mrs Rooney’s head. Rinsing until the water becomes clear, I wrap her hair in a towel and bring her back to her seat.
Megan catches my eye while I walk back, throwing her eyes to heaven at all the bodies gathered at the reception desk waiting to check in or check out.
In the mirror, I see Anna work away on the opposite side of the salon. It’s impossible to keep my eyes from scanning her body. Looking for bruises, cuts, swelling. Very little of her skin is showing, her clothes cover her like a wannabe nun.
Anna sees me looking, fuck. ‘Nice skirt,’ I mouth before turning away. God, I’m paranoid. It’s not like I could do anything to help her. Except let her know I’m here if she needs me. But that’s not even true. I’m barely here for myself at the moment.
Pulling the plug on my hairdryer for the last time today, I finally receive a bit of pampering. The salon was so busy, no one got a minute to blow-dry my hair so I did it myself during my break. Sienna is now attempting to make my face look its best. Which it hasn’t for a long time.
With my make-up done, I look at my face in the mirror. It resembles nothing like the turmoil boiling inside of me. Thanking Sienna for her work of magic, I leave the salon and head for home.
CHAPTER FORTY
Amber looks eighteen. I hardly recognize her when she comes down the stairs. Her hair flows in waves around her heavily made-up face. False eyelashes dominate the look. I don’t want to tell her she looks beautiful, which she does. I want to tell her, take that off you, bring back my baby. But I won’t. I would have loved to have my mom to compliment me when I first started going to parties.
‘Amber! Wow.’
‘Do you like it?’ she says, looking in the hall mirror while rambling on about who did this and who did that.
‘You look so grown up.’
‘Thanks, Ma.’ It wasn’t meant as a compliment but if it makes her happy.
‘You look lovely too, Ma.’ Amber moves closer to me, her eyes inspecting every inch of my face. ‘I like the brown eye shadow.’
‘Thanks, love.’ She’s still in her tracksuit, she hasn’t put the dress on yet. Hopefully I’ll be gone out the door by then. The thoughts of seeing my baby strutting her stuff in a twelve euro barely-covers-the-essentials dress, doesn’t appeal to me. I’ll let her father deal with that one.
With little more than half an hour before I have to leave, I check in on Tom who’s feeding the boys in the kitchen. Aaron stares at me, trying to figure out if it’s really me under all that make-up. Tom says, ‘Woohoo,’ while placing two plates in front of the boys.
‘Where’s Kenny?’
‘He had a football match, someone is dropping him home.’
Home, the word hangs in the air. With no time to wallow in my torture I kiss the boys and tell them we’ll do something nice tomorrow. It’s important I keep things as normal as possible for the boys, spend more time with them. So much is going on I have to make sure all this turmoil does not affect them. I don’t want them to ever feel neglected.
‘Can we go to the playground?’ Cian says, stuffing something that resembles a vegetable into his mouth before spitting it back onto the plate.
‘We can go anywhere you want.’
* * *
Our World, that’s the theme this year. The sign shines bright across the entrance to the venue, the coloured words floating on the backdrop of a deep blue sea. It’s impossible to go anywhere without being alerted to the dangers facing the planet. What we should and should not do to save it. I think of my world, what I should be doing or not doing, how far am I willing to go to save it.
The magnificent space looms in front of me when I enter. Sound echoes in every direction. In the distance, I see Anna put the finishing touches to her entry. The model’s hair wraps like coloured feathers through carefully manipulated hairbands that Anna made herself.
‘The Peacock’ is its name and I have to hand it to the girl, even though she has spent most of the past year throwing up from late nights in dingy venues, she’s really pulled it off.
It does look like a peacock. Plumes of colour jut out in full circles around the model’s face. How she manages to keep it all in place amazes me.
‘I think we’re over here,’ I say to Marie, pointing towards Anna. We both walk in her direction.
Behind Anna’s station we sit at a round table and wait for the rest of the staff to arrive. Sienna is first, walking in like she owns the place. Head held high, her pink dress flowing like candy floss. Sienna’s hair is back combed so it’s bouffant on top of her head, and wrapped with a yellow bow. Walking with the confidence of God, she arrives at the table.
‘Looking good, ladies.’
‘Sienna, you’re like a fucking model. How did you do all that in such a short space of time?’
‘Dedication, Marie, dedication.’
‘You look fab,’ I say, feeling like an old woman in the dated black dress that gets pulled out of the wardrobe for every occasion. It’s beginning to look navy I’ve washed it that often. Pulling at the end of the dress, I promise myself when everything dies down, when my world is handed back to me, I’m going to go on a shopping spree. I’ll buy myself some nice fashionable clothes like all the other staff wear. I used to be so fashion conscious and fussy about my image. I used to be a lot of things.
