I will never take this for granted. I will never not appreciate the strong man who is lying by my side. I will never complain (well, not much) when Lily wakes in the night needing a feed, or a change or just a cuddle. I will never complain about the jammy handprints she has left on the carpet, or the times she manages to make such a mess of herself that a bath for us both is the only way to clean up.
I won’t complain about teething. I won’t complain about Alex sleeping on while I feed our baby and revel in her pureness.
I will enjoy every moment, because this is my second chance. This is my chance to experience the childhood I should’ve had back then. The childhood he stole from me.
‘You’ll have to be careful not to spoil her,’ Ciara said the last time we met.
I’d laughed, especially as Ciara, who declares herself to be the least maternal person in Christendom, had brought a teddy bear with her that was at least the same size, if not bigger, than Lily herself.
Ciara and me? Well, we’re not best friends or anything. But we’re trying. She spent five days in hospital after the attack. Kathleen had managed to break two of her ribs and puncture a lung. Along with the books, Kathleen had kicked her in the stomach several times. There were concerns about internal bleeding, but thankfully she was fine. She is making a good recovery, physically. And mentally, she’s getting there. With the help of Stella, of course.
And I’m trying, too. Because we both know what it’s like to have been hurt so badly. We carry the same emotional scars. We’re getting counselling. Going to support groups. Trying to meet once a week, for a stroll along the quay and then a coffee. It’s been four months since Joe died and the winter is giving way into spring. There’s a lightness to the air that I don’t think is entirely down to the change in the season.
Sometimes Stella comes to join us. Sometimes Alex meets us when he has finished work. He’s doing okay. He still feels some guilt about not calling for help for Joe, even though the doctors and the police have told him there was nothing that could’ve been done for him at that stage anyway.
Kathleen had done a good enough job to send Joe almost all the way to hell – just not quite far enough. She tried, of course, even after the assault, to pin the blame for Joe’s death on Ciara and me, and on Alex, too. Even though she knew she was facing jail anyway for the assault on Ciara, she still seemed determined to punish us.
But she underestimated the power of a guilty conscience. Poor Dr Sweeney – living with the secret got too much for him, especially when he saw Ciara, bloodied and bruised in her hospital bed. He’s a good man, I still believe that. He was trying to help in his own way, but he’ll pay the price for covering up for Kathleen, who seems not one bit sorry for the position she put him in.
Of course Kathleen had also underestimated the value of our testimony. Ciara and I had cried our way through several boxes of tissues as we had outlined the years of abuse we had suffered to the police. Ciara told me how she thought we might not be Joe’s only victims. That she thought Kathleen may have been targeted, too – but when the police asked her about it, she reacted with the same anger she had shown Ciara.
Marie was devastated, of course. I believe she genuinely knew nothing of her husband’s perversions. She has finally taken her wedding ring off and reverted to her maiden name.
As for Joe, his remains were exhumed and he was buried, alone, in a plot further down the cemetery. I’m not even sure where his plot is, but that’s fine by me. I have no desire to visit his grave. I think he’ll have a lonely rest there.
Me? I’m determined to move on. Ciara is, too. The house is on the market. There have been a few offers. Young families looking for a place to build happy memories. It will be gone soon and I hope all those painful memories with it.
The rest of our life awaits. Alex stirs in his sleep, turns over and wraps his arm around me. I feel secure. I feel loved.
I feel free.