The Doll's House

‘I still don’t see what this has to do with me.’


‘The truth, the twisted truth, is that nothing ever happens in isolation, Clodagh.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘Shortly after I called to see your mother, I realised she hadn’t told either you or Dominic the whole truth. She’d allowed both of you to believe your father’s death was an accident, not suicide.’ His voice starts to rise again, the bitterness returning. ‘She didn’t want to tell you he took his own life, that he hadn’t given a damn about any of you.’

‘What difference did it make to you? You said yourself you helped persuade him.’ I want to pull this man’s eyes out. ‘You always knew it was suicide, you encouraged it.’

He turns away again, looking to the door once more. It’s then I hear the sounds downstairs. Someone is moving around. I wonder about shouting, but think the better of it. For as Alister Becon looks from the attic door to me and then back again, he calls a name, one I don’t want to hear.

‘Martin, is that you?’ And another part of me dies inside.





74 Strand Road, Sandymount, Dublin


The knife in my hand feels like an extension of me, cold, sharp and capable of great harm.

It’s the strangest thing waiting for something to happen for a long time. When the moment finally arrives, it feels almost imagined. As if thinking about it over time has made its reality strangely unbelievable.

I don’t answer Alister when he calls – at least, not at first. Let him sweat. I enjoy the thought of keeping him on his toes, even if he doesn’t realise it yet.

Clodagh is with him. She was completely out of it before I left. I gave Alister plenty of time to arrive, for the two of them to get acquainted. Alister, the master planner: his arrogance will be his ultimate downfall.

I wonder what version of the truth he has shared with her. It won’t take a lot to bring him down. He doesn’t have the strength he used to have. And then it will be Clodagh and me – exactly as it should be.

It’s been difficult. There’s no denying that. Knowing I’m near the end of this whole bloody thing offers some relief. There can be no backing away now. The pathway is clear, although the end game was never in doubt. Alister might have had other ideas. He hadn’t been happy when I dragged my heels with things. All the time I spent following Jenkins and Gahan around, getting to know their latest dirty little secrets. I enjoyed setting one up against the other, a rare pleasure in the shitstorm of events. Playtime before getting rid of them. And now it’s Alister’s turn. He’ll be surprised, taking me for a fool along the way, his pawn to be manipulated – exactly what I wanted him to believe.

He calls again. I ignore him. He’s so used to getting other people to do his dirty work that he still sounds smug – but not for long.

The stairs creak under my feet, my hand sliding up the banister. The closer I get to the top, the more assured I feel. I’ll need to be fast, take him unawares. And then he, too, can feel his lungs fill with water, the survival instinct kicking in, the will to live strong, but not strong enough to save him.





Clodagh


Deep inside me, I’d known Martin was a part of this. Maybe that’s what happens when your past is clouded in mystery: you live in a half-light, tinged with denial of the things you don’t want to admit.

Denial or not, neither Alister nor Martin has me here for any good reason. However I’m connected to this, there’s no easy way of getting back from this place.

Alister calls to Martin again, and when he does, so many questions flood into my head. Had my father felt betrayed by my mother? Did she make him feel a failure because of it? Why the hell did I stay with this man, other than for Ruby’s sake? Like one train wreck following another. For the briefest moment, I see my father trying to place his hand on my mother’s tummy. Her pushing him away, as if he must not touch the life inside her. I can forgive my father his rage, but I can’t forgive him choosing to die. You deserted us too! I scream inside. What about me? What about Dominic?