Annabelle, Lottie thought. She wondered how she was, now that Cian had been charged with double homicide. She’d have to make contact soon. Thinking of what her mother had just said, she’d always known Annabelle hadn’t had the perfect marriage but she’d thought Cian, for all his faults, had been a good husband. Dead wrong there, Parker, she told herself. Circumstances had changed Cian, released in him something evil. And circumstances had most surely turned Bernie into what she had become. But Rose was deflecting the conversation, in typical Rose fashion.
‘This isn’t about Annabelle or Cian or anyone else,’ Lottie said, drawing her back to the topic in hand. ‘This is about my dad.’
‘He was the one who fathered a child outside of his marriage, so don’t go blaming me.’
‘But things must have been strained at home. Jesus, you took in another woman’s daughter. Shit.’
‘She was an addict. She couldn’t care for you. There was no help for her back then, just the asylum.’
Lottie stared up at the ceiling. Blinded by tears. Frustration? Anger? Sorrow? She had no idea.
‘No wonder I’m so fucked up.’
‘I thought if I let you have your father’s things, it would be the end of it. Instead you started on your mad witch-hunt. All those poor innocent people. Killed because of your meddling.’
Lottie dragged herself upright again. ‘You’re wrong there. Marian Russell started it with her genealogy investigations.’
‘But don’t you see, your snooping got Cian O’Shea involved to spy on you, and on me. And whether you care to admit it or not, Lottie, that led directly to the murder of the Moroneys. So don’t play the angel here. Shoulder some of the blame.’
Bristling from the harsh words, Lottie decided that once she was well enough, she’d visit Cian O’Shea in prison to see if she could succeed where others had failed. She needed to know who had got him involved.
‘I’ve heard enough now, Mo… Rose. I think you need to leave.’
Rose pushed away from the wall. At the door, she turned. Lottie stared at the once sprightly woman she had called her mother. Now that woman looked half her size and broken.
‘I’m going,’ Rose said. ‘I just ask one thing. Leave it alone now. Don’t go looking for more answers. It’ll only cause people pain. People who have spent their lives running away from it. Remember, you have your own children and your grandson to think of. You don’t want to bring more heartache into their lives.’
Lottie got up, cringing with pain. She stood as erect as she could.
‘For your information, I’m not finished with this. I intend to find my last remaining half-sibling.’
Rose laughed drily. ‘Don’t forget, you have two.’
‘Two?’ Lottie felt confused. Then it struck her. ‘Bernie Kelly can rot in jail for the rest of her life. I’m talking about her twin. I will find where this Alexis is and—’
‘You won’t. You can never fight her. Your father couldn’t.’
‘What do you mean?’ How did Rose always get the last word?
‘Your father couldn’t stand up to her. He was a tired and broken man, the poor eejit. It was Tessa that made him do it, but I firmly believe that Alexis was behind her, pulling the strings. Didn’t you wonder why Tessa had the gun? The gun that killed your father?’
Yes, she did.
‘Alexis put it all in motion and Tessa wore your father down. Tried to convince him it would be wrong to speak the truth. He was a wreck by the time… by the time… I could never prove it, but I always thought someone tied him up, put the gun in his hand and forced him. Why else was there a rope on the floor by his feet? The rope was taken away, and after the inquest, the gun disappeared too. Tessa had it all these years.’ Sighing softly, Rose added, ‘In the end, I don’t know if he even wanted to pull the trigger or not. But he did it.’
Feeling a weakness in her knees, Lottie sat back on the bed and studied her hands. She had no words left to utter. When she looked up, she was alone.
‘I don’t know who I am,’ she whispered to the rectangle of light shining through the gap left by the open door. ‘Who am I?’
30th October 2015
The Child
The day that woman, Tessa Ball, arrived to sign me out should have been a happy day. But it wasn’t. I was leaving the only place I knew as home.
So when she stood there signing the final form, my soul was as black as the leather bag she held scrunched under her elbow.
She should have left me to my own world.
That day she unleashed a force of vengeance on herself and her family that would take another twenty-odd years to come to fruition.
I’m happy now. I’ve completed my life goal.
I lived with people I knew could one day help me to do what I wanted to do. My mission: to wipe out the insanity that had condemned me and my mother to live without the life to which I was rightly entitled. Even when Natasha was born some years after my release from the asylum, I never wavered. I knew she would understand and help me. She was my flesh and blood after all, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t know who her father was. I would prove the strength of that bond to those who had never allowed themselves to believe in it.
I wonder what they’ve done with Natasha. I suppose they’ll try to make her stand witness against me. But my daughter will not betray me. That defiance, back in the cellar, was just fear. She thought the detective was going to kill us both. Poor girl. I had it all under control. I still do.
I’m back in here now. Well, it’s not St Declan’s, obviously; that’s closed down. Another St Declan’s, though I didn’t even ask the name. All the same to me. I’m to be left here until they decide whether I’m fit to stand trial.
I know I’m not that child who was thrust into a world of madness. I’ve been fully aware that every action I’ve taken in my life was well thought out and implemented with meticulous planning. I know I am not insane. But they don’t know that. I’ve learned to play many roles. And this is one I was destined to play.
The child born to a mentally ill mother; locked up for nearly twenty years for no reason other than to protect family honour. How could I be anything other than insane?
Flicking through the pages of the only book I was allowed to bring with me, I study the herbal illustrations and wonder if they will let me sow some seeds. I would like that. My mother, Carrie, would be proud of me.
Epilogue
31st October 2015
Knocking on Boyd’s door seemed more civilised than jamming her finger on the bell. Soft, tender knocks. Tap, tap, tap.
She waited. No shadow formed behind the glass of the door. No sound, no movement. Silence within while everyday sounds continued outside.
Leaning her head against the cool glass, she realised this had been a mistake. It felt right when she’d made her decision. The decision had come from thinking about the loneliness in her life; the lies her life had been founded upon; the quicksand of lies she was quickly succumbing to.
Surrounded by a beautiful family and still she was lonely. Some might laugh. Others might think she was crazy. Maybe she was. After all, wasn’t there was a little bit of insanity running through her veins? Or maybe she should take that DNA test, just to be sure. No, not right now. One day. Perhaps when Rose died and there was no else to get hurt, she’d get Jane to do the test.
Not now. No. Not now.
The need to feel herself wrapped in the arms of someone she’d come to rely on as more than just a friend had become so strong. So she had acted on it. No alcohol in her system this time. No happy pills. Just herself. And he wasn’t even home.
Story of my life, she mumbled sadly to herself, making her way down the path. Pulling her hood up against the biting wind, hefting her bag higher on her good shoulder, she walked out on to the street.
‘Hey, Lottie, where are you off to so fast?’
She stopped. Turned round.
He was standing at the door. Hair dripping, skin damp. Just out of the shower, most likely.
Why was she really here? Unable to form a coherent word, she said nothing. Just stood like an eejit, staring.
‘Don’t walk away now,’ he said, coming down the path in his bare feet. ‘Come in.’ He held out his hand.
No hesitation. She moved towards him and took it.
And for now, it felt so right.
She felt like she belonged.
* * *