The social media storm peaks on Tuesday when Ronan issues proceedings and then wanes overnight with no further information to sustain it. I bluster my way through the reprieve with polite chit-chat at work and extra care and attention at home. Still, we all have an eye on the ticking time-bomb, watching to see if it will be detonated or defused. Each hour carries itself with a level of suspense that is all too familiar, a trauma I never dreamed I’d have to relive. Every phone call, every email, every passing gaze in the street has the potential to be the one that finally exposes me. And behind it all is the fear of Shauna’s next move, of the testimony that could destroy me.
CAROL’S CHOSEN A SMALL CITY-CENTER brasserie with the sort of unassuming grown-up chic that always has a price. She’s there when I arrive, waving over from the low-lit seclusion of a corner booth. She looks great, dark curls soft around her shoulders, skin painted with a healthy glow. But despite the obvious maintenance, the changes in her face are evident—the creases around her eyes, the slight sag of her jaw. Time comes for us all regardless.
It’s only in the faces of my teenage peers that I see the reflection of my own mortality. It’s that moment before my eyes acclimatize, when I see the middle-aged woman as the world sees her. Before she morphs back into Carol, once eighteen, forever her unique self. I have few day-to-day markers of my advancing age, with my university job and my younger wife. And yet, I have so much life lived already, so many reminders packed away in the past.
“It’s good to see you,” says Carol.
“You too.”
Her smile is so sincere I can almost believe in those cheekbones.
“And thanks,” I say, “for this.”
“Oh, I would have done it sooner, if I’d known you wanted to. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years.”
“Really?”
“Yes, of course. I mean, obviously none of us could forget what happened, but it was only when I got close to Shauna…”
She searches for the right words and I hold my breath coiled in my chest.
“I know how much you meant to her.”
The pain inside tightens until it is too much to bear and tears blur my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, grabbing a linen napkin.
“It’s OK,” she says. “This is bound to drag up old feelings.”
I dab under my eyes while Carol smiles sympathetically.
“Will we order?” she asks.
I look at the menu of shaved asparagus and scallop ceviche as ambient jazz plays in the background. Carol orders wine and I slide my afternoon research over to tomorrow’s schedule. By the second glass, I’m relaxed, and I’ve heard enough about her kids and my forgotten Highfield classmates. I want to get down to business.
“How is Shauna?”
“She’s … OK.”
“Ronan didn’t say much. Is she married? Kids?”
“No kids, but she did marry.” Carol looks up from her baked celeriac. “Didn’t last.”
“Oh,” I say more enthusiastically than I intended. “I didn’t know. That’s awful.”
“It was. He was a bit of a fucker in the end.”
I’m relieved to hear the “he” part of it. For some reason, that doesn’t feel as much of a betrayal.
“I don’t think she ever got over you.”
“What?” The walls close in as I stare at Carol and try to work out if this is a joke.
“Like I said, we’ve been close for the last ten years or so.”
“But…”
The words don’t come. I wouldn’t know what to do with them anyway.
“You don’t mind that she told me, do you?” asks Carol.
“Sorry, Carol. Shauna told you what exactly?”
“That you were in love.”
Now the tears come for real and there’s not a thing I can do to stop them. The denial, the betrayal, all the pent-up emotions flow out of me, down my cheeks and onto my Jerusalem artichoke. Carol hands me her napkin and waves for another bottle. I take my time to let it all out, breathe deeply and wipe my face. Then I finish my wine before I attempt any further conversation.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask.
“Because I think you deserve to know.”
Carol always did speak her mind, I’ll give her that.
“Thank you.” I smile my appreciation as the wine arrives and the waiter refills our glasses. “But you know I’m married, right? It’s not like we can do anything about it.”
“Oh god, I’m not suggesting that. I know you’re married to…”
“Alex.”
“Yeah, Alex. No, I’m not trying to break up your marriage, Jesus.” She laughs. “I just thought you should know. And I don’t suppose you’ll hear it from her. She’s a very private person now.”
“Yeah, Ronan said. Is that all I’m going to get?”
“It’s the truth.”
“And what happened to make her so … private?”
“Oh Lou, what a question,” says Carol. “You know most of it. It took her years to get past it. And then when things didn’t work out with Nigel…”
Nigel, I think. She married a Nigel?
“… she stopped seeing people.”
“Except you?”
“And Ronan of course. Other people didn’t want to hear what she had to say. There’s such a culture of silence in that family, you wouldn’t believe the things they’ve swept under the carpet.”
“Alcoholism, affairs?”
“Yeah,” says Carol, leaning toward me. “And that was just the start. After everything, their parents acted like it had never happened. None of them were allowed to talk about it and it was years before Ronan understood the full extent of it.”
I can see now that even Carol’s still dealing with the fallout.
“It must have been hard for you,” I say, “to turn your back on Highfield.”
“Meh,” she says with the flick of a wrist. “I only have boys, I didn’t have that dilemma.”
“But your family…”
Carol puts down her fork and looks me in the eye.
“I am not my family.”
I’m so shocked at the force of her reply I don’t know what to say.
“I think I owe you an apology,” she says, and then laughs. “Probably several. Jesus.”
She takes a deep breath.
“Do you remember my grandmother’s earrings? The ones I tried to blame you for stealing?”
“Yes.”
“My parents wanted me to make a statement to the Guards after, you know … that night. They said that Sister Shannon saw you at my locker the day they went missing. That you must have stolen them and then returned them to my bag a few days later.”
“Oh my god.”
“Yeah. They wanted me to say under oath that I definitely left them in my locker and I was certain they’d been stolen. That was a turning point for me. I liked you, believe it or not, and when I saw that the headmistress herself was prepared to perjure herself against you, well, I started seeing things very differently.”
Of all the revelations I’d anticipated today, Carol Sheridan standing up for me against Highfield was not on the list. I reach across the table and take her hand.
“Thank you,” I say. “I had no idea.”
She smiles and then changes the subject. We chat about old classmates, Stephanie and Aisling, and Melissa, a household name now that she presents a Saturday-night talent show on ITV. She’s also well known for a string of failed celebrity relationships and the work on her face she swears she hasn’t had done.
“Oh my god, did you read the story about the bee sting?” asks Carol. “On her lips!”
I laugh, not because it’s especially funny but because this is the Carol I remember, purveyor of scandal and slander dressed up as camaraderie.
“And that,” she air quotes, “‘wardrobe malfunction’ she had at the BAFTAs? Trust me, nobody was tuning in to see a forty-six-year-old nipple.”
“It was a good nipple though, I’ll give her that.”
Carol laughs and then stops, wide-eyed.
“Did you and her ever … you know?”
“Jesus, no.” I grimace and shake my head. “I only had eyes for Shauna.”
“So it really was true love?”
“Yeah, I think it was.” My smile fades. “Until…”
Carol’s eyes flick evasively to her dessert and I grab my chance to ask the one question that’s on my mind, the reason I’m here in the first place.
“Carol, do you know what Shauna’s written in her testimony?”
I freeze in anticipation as she looks at me curiously.
“You know you have absolutely nothing to worry about, right? She’s doing this for you as much as for Ronan or his client.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Everything that happened, it was because you were trying to tell the truth and nobody would listen. Shauna wants to exonerate you once and for all. She wants redemption.”
Her words fill me with joy and sadness at the same time, but I still don’t understand. If Shauna wants to absolve me, the last thing she can do is tell the truth.