‘Sandra, are you there? Can you hear me?’
‘I’m here, Karen.’ I sound crackly, barely audible. ‘I’m very frightened.’ I start crying, the tears streaming down my face. I don’t think she can understand what I’m saying, so I try again. ‘I’m scared, Karen. Edgar is making up lies. I think I’m going mad.’
‘It’s okay,’ she says.
‘It’s not okay, Karen. You don’t understand. He’s with somebody else, but he’s denying it.’ I remember what he said about the house in Greystones.
‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.’ Her voice is too calm.
I roar at her: ‘There bloody well isn’t. There’s nothing reasonable about any of this.’ I wipe the tears away, trying to pull myself together. ‘Karen, do you know about the house in Greystones?’
‘Yes.’
‘Edgar says it’s our house. Is that true?’ I’m full of fear for her response.
‘You and Edgar loved being by the sea.’
‘Is it true?’ I ask again, this time shouting.
She doesn’t answer, not immediately, as if she’s trying to work out what to say next.
‘Don’t you remember, Sandra?’ Her voice is softer. ‘You bought it with the money your parents gave you, after you came back from Europe. When you and Edgar moved to Blackrock, it was a weekend retreat for you both.’ Her words are drifting. ‘You haven’t used it much lately …’ She keeps talking, but I can’t make out what she’s saying, something about it being good to know it’s there if we need it. So, it’s all true. Edgar says it is, and now Karen – unless she’s lying as well.
‘Karen, I can’t talk any more. I have to go.’
‘Sandra, you don’t sound well. We’re all worried about you.’
I hang up the phone, like it’s the enemy. The car windows are steaming up again, but this time, I daren’t risk opening them. Instead, I put my phone back in my bag, taking out the diary. I flick through the pages, looking for my last entry. It doesn’t take me long to find it, but stuck inside the page is a black-and-white photograph. In it, there is a large dark shadow to the right, and I can see the back of a young girl. Looking closer, I can make out her face reflected in a window. I’ve no idea how old the photograph is, but something about it feels familiar. The sunlight is shining on the glass, fracturing her face into obscure shades of black, grey and white. I drop the diary, before the photograph falls out of my hand like the Devil card had done and once more I’m consumed by the dark.
I
THE BIBLE SAYS many things about sex. A man shouldn’t have sex with the daughter or granddaughter of any woman he has had sex with. But there are plenty of inconsistencies within the various versions, an error by a scribe here, a misinterpretation there, the belief that something is obvious when its absence leads others to think it’s fair game. Leviticus 20 doesn’t prohibit incestuous relations with a granddaughter. This is believed to be oversight, a corresponding document lost, but it’s irrelevant either way. People use the Bible to make any argument they want.
Unfortunately, Edgar is now trying to take charge, navigating between his idea of the truth and so many lies. Sandra is cracking. I feel her fear stronger than ever, her desperation: obliteration is close. The witch is following me again, watching my every move, sensing there might be another killing. It’s a favourite pastime of hers, stalking me when she thinks something is about to happen. She doesn’t let go easily. She still haunts the old house in Leach, even though it’s boarded up, rotting from the inside out. A house has a soul, you know, with history everywhere. It doesn’t take a lot to unlock the memories. The recall of a raised voice, the sound of a cane being lashed, harsh words – You’re a disgusting animal. You’ll rot in Hell. The devil has a place for little whores like you.
The witch always had things to say. She messed me up. I used to think she messed him up too. My incestuous step-father, grandfather, call him whatever you like. I dare say the witch hated sex. She probably couldn’t wait for my mother to perform, the herded goat to the slaughter. I’ve no doubt that between my mother’s death and my readiness, he travelled for his pleasures further from home.