May 2018
I fastened Grace’s seatbelt, as we waited for the plane to take off.
‘So I have a brand new grandpa and uncle,’ she said, and I knew she was struggling to take it all in. ‘I’ve never had a grandpa before,’ she said, holding her fluffy rabbit tight against her chest.
I was about to correct her. Tell her she does have a grandpa in Australia who she’d never met, but I felt sure it would confuse her further. She’d already been through enough with my breakup with Lawrence.
‘Are they nice?’ she asked, looking up at me.
‘Dillon is lovely.’ He saved my life. ‘And Grandpa writes books.’
‘Like Winnie the Pooh?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Cool,’ she said, closing her eyes.
I wondered if I’d arranged for her to meet Tierney and Dillon too soon. But it was too late now. The plane was moving down the runway.
I looked out of the window, the rumble of the plane’s engine causing a surge of apprehension. But I felt sure I was getting there – beginning to feel better. Everything had started to settle down, as though someone had stopped shaking the snow-globe with my life inside.
Angela and I were OK. She’d come round to see me about a month ago to tell me she was going to put her house on the market. ‘I need a fresh start,’ she’d said, and told me how she was moving in with her elderly mother, who needed her care. ‘My son often visits his gran,’ she’d gone on. ‘It could be a chance to make things right between us.’ I hoped it would be.
She’d handed me the slippers the man had refused. ‘Will you take them for Grace?’ she’d said. ‘Please.’
I’d taken them from her, and she’d thanked me as though I’d given her the gift.
Lawrence had introduced me to Farrah – for Grace’s sake. I didn’t like her, although if she’d been the kindest person alive I probably wouldn’t have. She suited Lawrence better than I ever could, in her figure-hugging dresses and heels. She’d added me on Facebook, and, against my better judgement, I’d trawled through her photos and found pictures of her with Lawrence and Grace in Disneyland, but my heart had taken such a bashing over the last few months, I barely reacted.
Zoe, no, Bridie O’Brian awaited trial. I’d learnt how she’d been in a psychiatric hospital for murdering Ronan Murphy. They’d been in a children’s home together – the building I’d seen in Dublin.
Now she was up on four counts of murder – Flora Phillips, Henry Derby, and the Greens – as well as the attempted murder of Dillon and me. Tierney hadn’t pressed charges.
I knew my mother had been her victim too, but the lawyer said it would be difficult to prove.
I’d contacted Jude Henshaw to explain what the letter from my mother had meant all those years ago – that when she’d told him that his daughter, Rachel, had died, she was telling the truth. He’d wept down the phone, and I’d cried too, but I couldn’t help thinking if he’d been the person he was now, back then, none of this would have happened.
I often wondered if we are three different people in our lifetime. The child. The adult. And the person we become when we realise the mistakes we’ve made.
***
I’d agreed to meet Dillon and Tierney at the cemetery near Evermore Farmhouse. It would be the first time I’d seen Tierney since Bridie attacked mem and now it felt surreal kneeling in front of the grave of ‘Caitlin O’Brian 1986–1990’ when I knew the child lying in the ground was Rachel Hogan – that Caitlin O’Brian was me.
A chill raced down my spine, and I felt suddenly weak and nauseous. Everything I thought I knew about myself was wrong. I wasn’t even sure if I could go on using the name Rachel, although a search of the Internet had told me I could use any name, as long as it wasn’t for illegal purposes.
But this had been illegal, hadn’t it? I would need to talk to a solicitor, when I could face it.
I ran my fingers over the inscription. How had my mother lived with such a dreadful secret? But the truth was she hadn’t. I’d discovered her trips every November, when I’d spent time with Jessica as a child, were to see the grave of her real daughter.
‘There’re talk of exhuming her body,’ Tierney said, and I looked up to see him standing with Duke. I smiled hello. He was my father, and I wondered if I would ever get used to that, or the fact he was Grace’s grandfather.
‘I heard,’ I said, rising and fussing over the dog. ‘What good would that do? My mother’s dead.’
He shrugged. ‘I hope they leave the child in peace.’
Dillon appeared and smiled first at Grace, who was picking daisies under a nearby tree, and then my way.
‘It’s so good to see you both,’ I said, greeting them with a hug. Now things had fallen into place, I realised, even more, how lucky I’d been that day at the pool. Bridie had intended to watch me drown.
Later at the farmhouse, once Grace was asleep, and Duke was lying by the fire, Dillon told me how he’d thought for a long time that his father – my father – was dead. He leaned forward and handed me a folded piece of paper. It was creased and stained dark red in places.
‘Read it, please,’ he said. ‘I hope it will help you understand why I left the day I found Imogen.’
I unfolded it and scanned the words on the page:
I must confess, before I leave this world, in the hope my God will forgive me.
I know my parents would say taking my own life is a mortal sin, but I have nowhere else to turn, and I hope my God will understand that.
Where to begin?
When Tierney and his wife took Bridie and me in, I thought everything would be OK. He was a kind man, although he had a pair of lungs on him – his bark always worse than his bite. His wife was kind too, always looking out for me.
When his wife left him, I became Tierney’s partner. However hard I tried, I couldn’t bear him near me, but he never forced himself on me.
I couldn’t bear living with him. I blame my awful past. I had to be rid of him, and if I could turn Dillon against him – convince the boy he was ill-treating the girls and me – he would help. The burns on my arms were my own doing – Tierney never hurt me.
One night I grabbed Dillon’s stick and crashed it over Tierney’s head. I wasn’t sure he was dead, but Dillon helped me take him out in the rowing boat, and push him into the lake.
But now the guilt consumes me. I can’t go on. I’m sorry.
Imogen
Dillon shuffled and twitched on the chair opposite me, nibbling on his thumbnail.
‘I walked in the back door and found her,’ he said. ‘I knew instantly she was dead. That she’d killed herself.’ There was a sob in his voice, but he took a deep breath and carried on. ‘The note was by her side, and when I read it, I panicked. If the Guards found out I helped her, they would have thrown me in jail. So I filled my rucksack with money from the pot in the kitchen, as much food as I could carry, and took off.’ He lowered his head. ‘I’m ashamed to say I didn’t think about you girls – that you were still in the house. I had no idea Rachel was dead. I just ran. And I beat myself up about that daily.’
‘You were just a boy,’ I said, leaning forward and touching his arm.
‘I joined the army, ended up in Sierra Leone. But even there, with all the bloodshed, it felt safer than home.’
Tierney poured tea into mugs from a spotted pot. ‘It turned out she’d convinced Dillon I was abusing her, told him I’d locked the kids in the cupboard – but it was never me, it had always been her. She had so many issues, poor soul. It wasn’t surprising, the awful life she’d led before I met her. Parents can make or break a kid.’
We sipped our tea in silence for some time, before I looked once more at Dillon. ‘So you helped Imogen throw your father in the lake?’ The words felt wrong on my tongue.
He nodded, and put down his mug. ‘She told me she’d struck Da with the stick I used to carry about, in an attempt to stop him hurting her. She said he was dead, and I must help her get rid of the body. She was in a dreadful state, said if I didn’t help, the girls would end up in care.’ He turned to look at Tierney, and with words I knew he must have said a thousand times, he said, ‘I’m so sorry, Da.’
‘It was a long time ago, son,’ Tierney said. ‘We’re different people now.’
I turned my tear-filled eyes on Tierney. ‘So how did you survive?’
‘Picked up by a fisherman,’ Tierney said, leaning back in his chair. ‘The water’s deep in the middle of that lake, some say it’s fifty metres, but I was lucky. I was washed up, still alive. But I was in a coma for months. Nobody knew who I was. When I finally came round, and got back here, everyone had disappeared. Took me years to track down Dillon, and later Bridie appeared, God help her. Of course, we thought you were in the graveyard.’
Another chill ran through me, and I covered my mouth with my hands. I wasn’t sure I’d ever come to terms with everything.
‘Eventually I did the place up,’ Tierney went on. ‘Gave it a new name – a new start.’
‘So what will you be doing now, Rachel?’ Dillon asked, his eyes meeting mine.
I shrugged. Thoughts of Suffolk had played around my head recently – it would be peaceful there, and, for now at least, I was planning to give up psychotherapy. And yet Ireland with its beautiful scenery and a new father and stepbrother to get to know was enticing too.
‘Who knows?’ I said, studying them both, and feeling relaxed for the first time in a long time. ‘I guess I’ll take one day at a time.’
The following day, once I’d hugged Dillon goodbye, Tierney walked with Grace and me up the drive towards my hire car. He was talking about his latest book, and I was glancing about me. Taking everything in so I could revisit it in my thoughts once I got back to Finsbury Park. My eyes skittered over the farmhouse, with jasmine growing around the door, the apple tree by the lake now bubbling over with blossom – it was such a beautiful place, and I couldn’t wait to return.
One of the doors of the double garage stood open. Inside was Tierney’s car, and next to it a black saloon, facing forward. I averted my gaze. I’d never got to the bottom of who’d rammed me off the road that day, or worked out who’d been watching me when I visited the grey houses with the red doors. I shook the fear from my thoughts. There were thousands of black saloons on the road, I told myself, refusing to let paranoia spoil things.
‘I can’t wait to read it,’ I said, realising Tierney had come to a stop, and was staring my way. ‘Will all this coming out about Bridie’s past reflect on your novels?’
He shook his head. ‘I worried for nothing, as it turns out. They seem to have gone up in the charts, rather than down.’
‘That must be a relief,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘I’ll send you a signed copy as soon as it’s published. And you’ll have to come to the book launch. I’d like to show off my new-found daughter.’
‘That would be brilliant.’
‘Well bye, Rachel.’ He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, then ruffled Grace’s hair, making her giggle. ‘I hope you’ll come again.’
‘Of course, you can bank on it,’ I said, with a smile.