The Doll's House

‘O’Connor, keep us posted during the day. Where’s Stapleton?’


‘Here, boss.’ Stapleton waved from the back of the room.

‘You’re in charge of the press. Feed those guys exactly what we want them to hear. Officially we’re following some definite lines of enquiry. Acknowledge that Gahan and Jenkins knew each other. The link should calm public anxiety, at least the jitters of anyone who didn’t know the men. It might shake some others.’ Butler looked around the room. ‘We need to get some more answers. Good ones. That means asking the right questions. Get out there and do what you do.’

If the rumours about Butler seeking a future career in journalism were true, O’Connor couldn’t help but wonder if his attitude would change once he was on the other side of the fence. Right now, the only news Butler wanted was good news, and faster than he’d been getting it.





Ringsend


The police pulled Stevie in this morning. I know because I followed him to work. He didn’t look so pretty in the face. Even if getting the shit beaten out of him is nothing unusual for Lover Boy.

He seemed shocked at first but he composed himself quickly. He’ll play it cool. Stevie was always the one with the cool head, streetwise, crap-wise, and capable of reading folks, especially their weaknesses.

Stevie doesn’t know that I know about his little run-in with Clodagh all those years back. I make it my business to know these things. Just as I made it my business to keep my eye on him. Some things are best handled by you alone.

McDaid being dragged in isn’t going to cause any change to my plans. He’s another pawn in this game of chess. The next marker feels safe right now. He thinks he’s off-limits. But no one is. It won’t be long now, and then it will be Clodagh’s turn. One should always keep the best till last.

They’ll have to be taken down close to one another. Anything else is too risky. I can’t take the chance of anyone working out my game plan. Not until everything is sorted exactly as it should be and precisely as I planned it. Destiny is funny, the way it has a whole momentum of its own.





Clodagh


When I come back from my regression, the first words out of my mouth are ‘The dolls know the killer.’

‘You’re talking about Emmaline?’ Gerard puts his thumb and index finger into his eyes, as if he is trying to think clearer.

‘Yes. Who else would I be talking about?’

‘What makes you think someone killed her, Clodagh?’

‘My mother said so, when I was inside the doll’s house. Only I don’t know who she was blaming.’

‘Explain to me how you felt when I was bringing you back.’

‘I felt like I was being pulled out of the room, sucked out of the darkness. I thought about the people I was leaving behind, my father, my mother, my little-girl self and the baby, that they were all trapped inside the doll’s house.’

‘And when you reached the staircase, the one leading to the garden, how did you feel then, Clodagh?’

‘The emotion felt enormous. I could barely hear you. When I got back to the garden, I could smell the sweet scent of summer flowers, then the faintest smell of vanilla candle wax. And then …’

‘And then what, Clodagh?’

‘I heard sounds coming from outside. A car passing by and the click of the gate.’

‘The gate outside?’

‘Yes.’

Gerard stood up. ‘But I’m not expecting anyone.’

‘Maybe I was mistaken.’ I start to shake. Gerard puts a blanket around me. He tells me this often happens. That my body is coming to terms with the emotions involved.

I say again, ‘Gerard, the dolls know,’ calm and clear.

‘Clodagh, the dolls are an extension of you. You do understand that?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

‘If there are answers, you already know them. You simply can’t remember them. It’s as straightforward as that.’

The shaking has stopped, but he asks me to remain lying down.

‘Gerard, is it possible I’m mistaken? Could I have imagined it all?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘But you said memories are stored completely intact in our subconscious. They’re more reliable than actual recall because our conscious mind alters memory over time. It adds in layers.’

‘I did say that, Clodagh, and it’s true, but the mind is fragile.’

‘Meaning?’

‘As I explained before, in hypnosis one has to be careful not to manipulate.’

‘Do you think you’ve manipulated me?’

‘Perhaps I’ve influenced you, inadvertently used the power of suggestion. I make a point of avoiding asking leading questions but outside influences can play their role too.’

I think about finding that old photograph, the one with my father and his old college friends. How, after Keith Jenkins’s murder, I’d seen his face at the door of my doll’s house.

‘Could I have superimposed images or ideas on my memory?’

‘Perhaps. It happens, especially if a client is under duress.’

‘I see.’