‘I could ask you a million questions,’ said Jessie, as she sat down, ‘except now that I think of it, there’s only one: why? Why were you doing this?’
At the far end of the sofa, Lorna looked like a prisoner bracing herself for interrogation. Stripped of her normal fizz and bluster, she seemed frail. She could refuse to answer, or she could lie and obfuscate. Still, Jessie sensed she was willing to talk.
‘It wasn’t what I wanted,’ she said. ‘Whatever else you think, you’ve got to understand that. At the start, I didn’t even know.’
‘Are you kidding me?’
‘Please, Jessie. Hear me out, would you?’
‘Why do it, then?’ she said, as she put out her cigarette.
‘Because we were desperate. We needed the money.’
‘Come on, Lorna, there are countless ways of getting money. Most folks could do with more cash, but they don’t go into the drugs business or exploit immigrants.’
Lorna gave her a waspish look. ‘I don’t think you’re in any position to give lectures on financial management.’
‘Fair point,’ said Jessie. ‘Let’s not get distracted, though. If you were short of funds, why not go to the bank?’
‘Because it was the bank we owed the money to.’
The story that unfolded was one of bad luck and worse judgement. Simon and Lorna had remortgaged Clevedon to fund its renovation. They’d also borrowed heavily to open the café and revamp the amusement arcade. They’d been confident the figures supported their investment. Okay, they’d massaged them a little to impress the bank, but they’d remained adamant that, all going well, their gamble would yield a hefty return. All had not gone well. A series of sodden summers had hit their income, while the house had become a money pit, every job costing twice as much as they’d budgeted for.
‘Why didn’t you scale back your plans, then?’ said Jessie. ‘I mean, look around you. Every single item in this place is top of the range. I know I sound like Mam, but was all that spending really necessary?’
‘It’s easy to say that now,’ replied Lorna. ‘At the time, we thought we’d just have to ride it out. We told ourselves that everything would come good eventually. The way we saw it, our plans remained sound and the setbacks were only temporary.’
And you didn’t want to lose face in the town, thought Jessie. You couldn’t bear any of the local rumour merchants thinking you were struggling, especially when your persona was built on being the woman who worked hard and persevered. The woman who’d married well and made the most of every opportunity. That this sounded so basic didn’t make it any less true.
At some point, Lorna and Simon’s bank had changed its operations in Ireland and sold its bad loans to another company. It, in turn, had sold them to an out-and-out vulture fund, one of those places where sentiment is forbidden. There were no more polite chats with the bank manager. No cups of milky tea and plates of custard creams. No generous restructurings. The fund was determined to squeeze them until they squeaked. Their only point of contact was a call centre in Pittsburgh where smooth-voiced agents recited the rules and figures. There was no leeway, no nods and winks, just a teetering pile of debt. The pressure was relentless. If Simon and Lorna didn’t meet the repayments, the house and businesses would no longer be theirs.
‘Correct me if I’m wrong,’ said Jessie, ‘but aren’t there protections in place to make it harder to repossess family homes?’
‘We were deep in arrears. Believe me, Jessie, we got advice. Whatever way we looked, we were screwed.’
Being the queen of the brave face, Lorna had continued to work in the shop and arcade. She’d even done the occasional shift in the Seashell. Her hair had been blow-dried, her nails manicured. Outwardly, everything had been fine. Simon had focused on ways of finding cash. If you asked Jessie, it would have made more sense to reverse their roles. Lorna was undoubtedly the more resourceful of the two. Reluctant to interrupt her sister’s flow, she kept this assessment to herself.
‘As time went by,’ said Lorna, ‘I began to despair. Simon insisted that he was making progress. He told me he’d heard of someone who could help. If “help” is the right word.’
‘I take it the someone was Dave.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Is that his real name?’
‘It is, yeah. Dave Hodnett’s his name.’
‘What happened then?’ asked Jessie.
Lorna looked down at her lap. ‘That was when Lam arrived.’
‘Lam?’
‘He was here before Quan and Linh. That was how . . . that was how it started. The cannabis, I mean. But, again I swear to you, I didn’t know what was happening until it was too late to do anything about it.’
‘I take it Lam was a prisoner too?’ said Jessie.
‘I don’t like—’
‘You mightn’t like the word, but it’s the right one. Don’t forget I’ve seen the conditions in those sheds.’
‘I suppose,’ said Lorna.
‘So, just to be clear about this: are you saying that Simon didn’t consult you? That everything was in train before you knew what was going on?’
‘Listen, I can see why you mightn’t believe me, but I’m telling you the truth.’
‘Could you not have objected? Growing weed is one thing. Keeping people prisoner is entirely different.’
‘I did. I told Simon I didn’t want to have anything to do with it. He said there was no other way. It was our absolute last resort. The fund was about to take us to court. Everything would have been gone. We were frantic with worry.’
Dave, it turned out, was an enforcer, a middleman. He worked for a larger operation in Dublin.
‘Who runs the larger operation?’ asked Jessie.
‘It doesn’t matter. We don’t have any contact with them.’
‘Of course it matters. Do you know who he works for?’
‘I do, only . . .’
‘Only what?’
‘Okay, I’ll tell you. You’ve got to trust me, though, when I say I didn’t know at the start.’
‘Go on,’ said Jessie.
Lorna pressed her fingertips together. ‘It’s a name you’ll be familiar with. Vincent McPartlin. But, like I say, we only found that out later and—’
‘You’ve got to be joking.’ Vincent McPartlin was the criminal who’d been under discussion on the night of Jessie’s TV disaster. He was the hardman’s hardman, a ruthless gangland figure who’d left a trail of blood and ruined lives behind him. From what she’d read, cannabis was only part of his drugs roster. His gang also dealt heroin and cocaine.
When her sister didn’t respond, she tried again: ‘I thought McPartlin was locked up again.’
‘He’s in Mountjoy,’ said Lorna, her voice muffled. ‘Apparently, his eldest son is running the show.’
Jessie took a minute to process the information. Or maybe she took longer. Time felt distorted. Little wonder that Dave, brash, cocksure Dave, had got his kicks from making fun of her. She’d derailed a conversation about his boss and made a fool of herself in the process. Oh, the hilarity.
She remembered the evening the family had learnt about her skipping out on her landlord without paying the rent. In particular, she recalled Lorna’s theatrical performance and her sermon about being responsible with money. Had that been a deliberate tactic? Deflect, deflect, deflect. Or had her sister become so detached from reality that she no longer recognised her own hypocrisy?
‘Have you any notion how dangerous the McPartlins are?’ Jessie said eventually, her voice louder than was wise.
‘Like I told you, we’ve never had to deal with them. Dave arranged everything.’
‘You know as well as I do that Dave is the McPartlins. All he’s missing is the name.’ She reached for her cigarettes and lit up. ‘Does “everything” mean Lam, Quan and Linh?’
‘Yes.’
‘Great. So you’re doing business with some of the nastiest scumbags the country has ever produced. Way to go, Lorna.’
Noticing the increase in tension, Quan’s head jerked up. He’d plainly been following everything they’d said. This shouldn’t have been a surprise. It had been apparent the previous night that, while he was hesitant to speak English, his understanding was good.
‘I’m sorry, Quan,’ said Jessie. ‘I’ll keep it down.’
‘She was kind,’ he said, looking at Lorna. ‘Not like the others.’
‘Thank you,’ whispered Jessie’s sister. ‘I tried.’
‘All the same, you tolerated what was going on.’
‘In a few months it would have been over.’
‘And what would have happened then? Would they have been moved on to another one of Dave’s enterprises? New county, same exploitation.’
‘No,’ said Lorna, her voice stiffening. She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Dave assured me that their debt would be paid off by then and they’d be free to go.’
‘You’re too smart to fall for that,’ said Jessie. ‘Besides, were you not frightened of getting caught? I mean, there was Dave strutting around the town when he’d no obvious business in the place. You know what Clooneven’s like. Did you not think people would say, “Hold on a minute – who’s your man and what’s he up to?”’
‘He wasn’t here that often and he tended to avoid most people. He made an exception for you . . . because he’d seen the telly clip, I guess. You seem to amuse him.’
Jessie blew out a stream of smoke. ‘What about my question? Were you not scared that someone would cop on to what was happening here?’
‘Of course I was,’ said Lorna, her words embedded in a sigh. ‘In particular, I was worried about Mam or Dad coming over and spotting something.’
‘Why ask me to babysit, then?’
‘Because you were cheap and because I couldn’t see you traipsing around out the back. You’d never shown any interest before. I assumed you’d sit here with your nose pressed to your phone or a book.’
Presumably Dave Hodnett had thought something similar. Worse, he’d probably considered her too dizzy, too stupid, to notice that anything was amiss. He hadn’t bargained on the observational powers of an honest four-year-old.
‘How much longer were you planning on spending in the drugs trade?’ she asked.
‘You make it sound like we’re dealing crack. I’m sure you’ve done far more than smoke weed.’
The honest answer was, yes, she had. Short of heroin, Jessie had tried most of what had been available. The last time she’d done coke had been with Oisín, Phelim’s former friend. Looking back, she hadn’t just been reckless, she’d been arrogant.
She pulled on her cigarette. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’
‘Obviously, we weren’t going to keep on doing this. Once we’d made enough money to sort out some of our debts, we’d have called a halt.’
‘Does Dave know that? Because he doesn’t strike me as the sort of guy who’d say, “Hey-ho, job done” and walk away?’
‘I told Simon I wasn’t willing to continue. I told him I’d take the kids and leave.’
Lorna’s movements, Jessie noticed, had become increasingly jittery. Her hands were shaking, while one knee jiggled up and down. Dave, Ger and Simon had been gone for quite a while. Either Linh was impossible to find or something else had gone wrong. She watched a clump of ash fall to the floor then reached over, stubbed out her cigarette and closed her eyes.
As disgusted as she was by what had happened, she also felt the slightest stirrings of sympathy for her sister. Was that wrong? Lorna had been in a precarious position; everything she’d worked for had been in jeopardy. Dave and his criminal friends had taken advantage of the situation because there was always a Dave, someone who saw opportunity in another person’s difficulty. Someone whose desire for money or power was so all-consuming that they viewed other people as expendable. Someone with no mercy, no boundaries. Oh, and there was always a Simon, someone who was willing to push aside his morals when life became tough.
That, she figured, was how bystanders became criminals. After all, how many news stories had there been about previously clean-living girlfriends who were coaxed into storing drugs or guns? About men who lost their jobs and drifted into money-laundering?
Jessie only opened her eyes again because she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She hoped it was a message from Ger. Instead, it was an email from Kaitlin titled Amazing news about Bridget!!!! Jessie wouldn’t have put Kaitlin down as a four-exclamation-marks type of woman. She considered opening it, but this wasn’t the time. Short of Bridget being resurrected from the dead, she couldn’t imagine any news being that amazing. She’d read it later.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Lorna.
‘I’m not sure that I have a choice.’
‘You do.’
‘No,’ said Jessie. ‘I’m sorry, Lorna, I don’t. Even if I wanted to walk away and forget about it, Ger wouldn’t be willing to lie.’
That was the truth. Once again, she asked herself if involving him had been a mistake. Should she have tried to handle things on her own? But what would she have done about Quan and Linh? When it came to them, there was no room for ambiguity. They couldn’t have stayed here. She couldn’t have looked the other way.
Her sister stared at her, her gaze unblinking. A tear rolled from the corner of one eye. ‘What about family loyalty? You haven’t considered what this would do to Mam and Dad, not to mention the kids.’
‘I’ve thought about it all. Believe me, I have.’
Lorna looked away. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I would never have chosen for this to happen. Never.’
Jessie didn’t reply. Instead she sat in silence. She thought of her parents and Etty. She thought of Ethan and Zoë, of Ashling and Ivana in the café, and of Quan and Linh. She thought of Ger, Simon and Dave. She thought of Bridget and Norah. And she thought of her sister, unravelling beside her.
An hour later, the men returned without Linh. According to Dave, they’d been all over the area, first on foot and later in his car.
As he blew into the room, his eyes glittered with anger. It must have been clear to him that whatever hope he’d had of persuading Jessie and Ger to stay quiet had been shattered by Linh’s disappearance.
Jessie’s fears were rekindled. Everything she’d learnt about him suggested he was dangerous. Even if Linh had found someone to talk to, they might not have listened. And even if they’d listened, would they have known what to do?
She did her best to catch Ger’s eye, but Dave kept getting in her way. He was patrolling the room, tossing out insults. The atmosphere between the three men was toxic, with most of Dave’s anger directed towards Simon.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘We need to sort things and we need to sort them quickly. And what we don’t need is an audience. Where can we put these three?’
Her stomach turned over. ‘What do you mean? What are you planning on doing with us?’
‘You know you’re a complete pain in the arse,’ he said, taking a step towards her. ‘Do you ever stop asking questions?’ He looked at Ger. ‘How do you put up with her?’
‘Her question sounded reasonable to me,’ Ger replied.
Dave took another step. His breath filled her nostrils. It smelt like cat food. She saw his fleshy nose, the flecks of grey in his beard, the minute white scar under one eye. She felt the laser-focus of his stare. She tried to shuffle backwards but she was right up against the kitchen island and couldn’t move any further.
‘Don’t come any closer to me,’ she said.
‘I’ll do whatever I have to.’
‘Get away from her,’ said Ger.
Dave laughed. ‘Or what?’
‘Leave my sister alone,’ added Lorna. To Jessie, her voice sounded distorted, like an old-fashioned radio not quite on the station.
Dave tilted his head in Lorna’s direction. ‘I didn’t ask for your opinion.’
He took another half-step. By now, his body was almost touching Jessie’s. She was part frightened, part repulsed. Ger stepped forward, gripped a hand around Dave’s arm and pulled him away. Swiftly, Dave wrestled free, turned and attempted a punch. Ger was ahead of him, however, and landed the first blow. It connected but wasn’t strong enough, and Dave hit back. In a finger click, a brawl developed. They were punching and kicking. They were on the floor. They were pulling and dragging and struggling. It occurred to Jessie that someone like Dave would carry a knife.
Lorna screamed.
Simon roared, ‘Stop it, would you?’
Jessie wasn’t sure whether he was talking to his wife or to Ger and Dave. She was on the point of speaking when something about Quan distracted her. He was standing slightly to her right and, like her, was facing the back door. Although she didn’t have a clear view of his face, she realised that his body language had changed. His shoulders tensed. In another instant, he was swerving around the fight and dashing towards the door.
It was only then that Jessie saw the car sweeping into the backyard.