The Truth Will Out Read online

  Hardly champagne and strawberries but, my God, I’m desperate for you.‘Thanks, I’ll pass.’

  He had drained his glass, placed it on the dresser, then taken hers from her hand. Her heart was beating so wildly that her insides reverberated. ‘Did I tell you how stunning you are?’ he’d said.

  You lying bastard. I love it. ‘I remember you mentioning it once or twice.’

  ‘Did I tell you how you make me feel?’

  Please stop talking. ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘You are the best part of my day.’

  Okay, seriously, stop talking. ‘Thanks.’

  He’d touched her hand and pulled her close, and every hair had stood on end. He’d leaned in for an electric kiss and Susan had thanked God that she kept an extra pair of knickers in a secret pouch in her handbag …

  Someone beeped their horn, bringing her back to the present and far from erotic reality.

  ‘Mind where you’re going, ya thick!’ a faceless man roared, as he passed her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled.

  She was on Baggot Street so she parked the car and headed to Searson’s Bar, which had been the venue for her last dangerous liaison. She hadn’t wanted it to be and neither had he. They had just got lazy or maybe miscalculated. Maybe Fate had intervened or it might have been simple bad luck. They had been kissing across the table in a seductively dim corner when she had heard Andrew’s voice. She’d leaked a little wee and turned from the kiss towards the voice. Please, God, make me be hearing things.

  He had been standing in front of her in his business suit holding his briefcase, another man beside him, a colleague or business associate, someone she didn’t know.

  ‘Susan?’

  Every inch of her had frozen. Andrew had looked from his wife to his colleague; Tony was the name she remembered him using.

  ‘Tony, this is my wife, Susan.’

  Tony’s look of shock had said it all.

  ‘And I’m not sure who this is,’ Andrew had said, staring pointedly at Keith.

  Keith had stood up. At six foot five, and broad, he had an overpowering presence but Andrew, who was shorter and slighter, had punched him hard in the face anyway. Keith had taken the punch with the good grace of a guilty man. Andrew hadn’t waited for an argument, tears or even apologies. He’d turned and walked away, his colleague following two steps behind. Keith had sat and drained his drink, fingering his swelling eye.

  Susan had been in shock.

  ‘Susan?’

  She’d nodded.

  ‘Susan?’

  ‘Swords,’ she’d mumbled, after a moment or two.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Swords. He said he would be in Swords.’

  Keith had sighed, then signalled to the barman that he wanted another drink. The man had complied and Susan had thought that it was nice of him not to kick them out after what had just happened. She’d felt as if she’d received a whack from which there might be no recovery.

  The barman had brought over Keith’s drink.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Keith.

  ‘Sorry,’ Susan said. The man had smiled at her and walked away. At least he’s got a good story for the regulars.

  Keith had drunk deeply, almost inhaling the glass. ‘What now?’

  ‘Now I go home and face my husband,’ she’d said.

  ‘And me?’

  ‘You go home, glad it was my husband who caught us and not your wife.’

  ‘It’s over, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ she had almost laughed, ‘it’s definitely over.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘That makes two of us.’

  ‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ he’d offered.

  ‘No.’

  The excitement was gone. Everything she had felt for him minutes before had disappeared in an instant to be quickly and nauseatingly replaced with a mixture of dread, self-loathing and terror. What have I done? She had picked up her handbag and walked away. At the door of the bar she had turned to take one last look at the builder named Keith, who was not looking back. Instead he had been staring into the bottom of his empty glass, more than likely contemplating his lucky escape.

  That had been six months and four days ago. She had gone home to an empty house, her husband having packed a bag of essentials and left without a word or note, only to return one week later, the day before their daughter was due home from a school skiing trip. He had told her he had returned for their daughter’s sake and, although she had begged and pleaded, he had remained cold, uninterested, stoic. He didn’t want reasons, explanations or excuses; he didn’t want times, dates or details. In fact, he didn’t want anything but silence, a torturing silence that had run on for months.

  Searson’s was quiet and she was grateful that the barman who had witnessed her scandal didn’t appear to be working. Instead a woman served her a badly needed vodka and tonic. She retreated to a booth, deliberately passing the one that had been the scene of the beginning of the end of her marriage. She sat and put her bag under her feet. She stroked her glass before tipping its contents down her throat. She was on her second drink before she called Melissa and asked her to meet her. Her friend hesitated but Susan must have sounded so desperate and tear-soaked that Melissa told her she’d be there in an hour. Susan didn’t want to make a fool of herself by getting drunk so she ordered food. By the time she had finished her meal Melissa was sitting opposite her.

  ‘I’m sorry about the short notice.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I think my marriage is well and truly over,’ Susan admitted.

  ‘I take it the counselling didn’t go as hoped.’

  ‘It didn’t go at all,’ Susan said, sighing. ‘I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t admit what I’d done.’

  ‘And Andrew?’

  ‘He didn’t want to be there anyway. He’s never going to forgive me.’

  ‘And now you’re sure?’ Melissa said wearily. She couldn’t understand how Susan had allowed her husband to punish her for so long. Either get over it or get out of it.

  ‘I know him. We’ve been married twenty-six years.’ She shook her head. ‘Twenty-six years, and now when I look at him all I see is anger and hate. He’ll never give me the chance to explain. Sometimes I don’t think he’ll be happy until it’s torn me inside out. He doesn’t want it to get better. I just want it to end.’

  Melissa put her hand through her hair. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ She was glad her friend was hinting towards saving herself. But Susan had often talked about having had enough. I wish I could believe you this time.

  ‘There’s nothing to say.’ Susan laughed bitterly. ‘I wanted excitement and drama in my life and, well, I certainly got that.’ She downed another vodka before shaking the glass at the barwoman, who nodded. ‘My husband is determined that I suffer, and I do, but apparently not enough.’

  After that final drink she agreed to allow Melissa to drive her home. When they reached the house Melissa went inside with her. Poor Susan, she’s aged six years in six months. She’s suffered more than enough. Andrew, you wanker!

  Beth was at the cinema with a friend. Andrew was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper.

  Melissa was first to enter the room. Andrew stood.

  ‘Melissa.’

  ‘Andrew.’

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you.’

  ‘Susan needed me to bring her home. She’s in the loo.’

  ‘Oh.’

  They fell silent.

  ‘Coffee?’ he said, after a moment or two.

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Tea?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Water?’ He smiled at her.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, annoyed that he could find a smile for her while being so cold to the woman who had given him twenty-six years of her life. We all
make mistakes, Andrew. I’m sure you’re no angel either.

  ‘Sit,’ he ordered.

  She did so out of habit rather than any desire to please. ‘Andrew,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’ Again he smiled.

  Stop smiling or I’ll murder you. ‘I don’t believe in meddling in other people’s marriages – God knows, I’ve enough trouble dealing with my own – but what you’re doing to Susan is deliberate and cruel.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ he asked calmly.

  ‘I suggest you either attempt to work it out or leave.’

  He laughed. ‘It’s all so easy!’

  ‘Just talk to her.’

  ‘And what would you like me to say?’ He was still laughing, which annoyed her even more.

  ‘Okay, fine. Be a baby – but how about doing it somewhere else?’

  ‘This is my house,’ he reasoned, with a grin.

  ‘So let her go. Do something, Andrew, because your silence is destroying her!’

  ‘Thanks for your input, Melissa, I’ll definitely consider it,’ he replied, with the grin firmly fixed to his face.

  He might as well have found and flicked the switch marked ‘lunatic’ on the back of Melissa’s neck because she flipped. ‘You know, Andrew, it’s no frigging wonder Susan had an affair because you are one of the most selfish, self-centred and annoying fuckers I know. You’re a cold-hearted, money-oriented bullshit artist who has never had any time for his wife. So you’ll keep on punishing her until you decide to call time – but when you do, I honestly hope she hates you enough to really stick it to you. And if you think all of this is her fault you’re more stupid than I ever gave you credit for!’

  Andrew had stopped grinning.

  Melissa’s heart was racing. Oh, shit, I may have said too much.

  The downstairs loo flushed and a moment later Susan came into the kitchen.

  ‘Tea?’ she asked Melissa, ignoring her husband and the dense atmosphere in the room.

  ‘No, thanks. I’m leaving.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’ Susan nodded.

  ‘Thanks for calling,’ Andrew said.

  You smug bastard. ‘Go fuck yourself, Andrew!’ Melissa retorted – to Susan’s shock and, happily, her amusement too.

  Susan laughed all the way to the hall door.

  ‘Sorry,’ Melissa said sheepishly.

  ‘I don’t know what happened in there but I’m glad you said what you did. I’ll live on that for weeks.’

  ‘It’s like he knows exactly which button to push.’

  ‘It’s his gift.’ Susan smiled.

  ‘I really hope you’ve had enough.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Melissa and Susan hugged before she closed the door.

  Susan didn’t attempt to engage her husband and she was still laughing at Melissa as she filled her bath. Okay, Andrew, have it your way. I give up.

  29 June 1975 – Sunday

  HE’s back in the house. He was there on Friday morning when I woke. I heard him downstairs making breakfast. They were laughing together. I felt sick. I didn’t want to leave my room. Mam kept calling to me but all I wanted to do was cry. I didn’t go to work. I locked my door and hid under my blankets. I can’t believe she’s let him back. I hate her for it. I wish Dad was here. I wish she had died and left me my dad. HE hasn’t come near me. He knows. Mam told him to give me time. I heard her talk to him about me like I’m the troublemaker. She said something I couldn’t hear and he laughed. I hate them.

  I didn’t want to go to the carnival but Matthew had brought his ladder for Sheila so he used it to climb to my bedroom. I let him in but only because I can’t say no to him. I really just wanted to be left alone – besides I hadn’t even had a wash so I’m sure I smelt. He knew there was something wrong. I don’t like lying to him so I just said, ‘HE’s back.’ That was enough. I didn’t have to say any more. He hugged me for the longest time. I wish we could run away. I told him that too. He said maybe one day we would. I hope so. I hope it’s soon.

  He talked me into going to the carnival. I’m glad he did. It was brilliant. We met Dave at the top of the town and when Sheila climbed down the ladder we all caught a glimpse of her knickers. Dave and Matthew laughed at her because there was a bunny on them. I said nothing ’cause there was a frog on mine. She was like a bird released from a cage. She was dancing her way down the town. Dave kept running after her, trying to hold her hand, but after being confined to her room for nearly a week she needed to be free. It was after nine when we eventually got to Harrington’s field. It’s usually so bare and muddy, empty and depressing, but when we turned the corner it was full of people and lights, red, green, yellow and blue, all flashing in time to loud, pounding music. Everywhere you looked there were bumper cars, boat swings, carousels, aeroplanes, shooting galleries, ring-throwing tents, chip vans, ice-cream vans – there was even a Waltzer! The smell of candyfloss made Sheila feel sick. I think she’s still suffering from all the drink.

  Dave won a Scooby-Doo cuddly toy for Sheila. Matthew won me a fish but it died in the passenger seat of a bumper car ten minutes later. RIP. Still he was a brilliant bumper-car driver – we hardly got bumped at all, even though Dave nearly killed himself and Sheila trying to get at us. Matthew drove with one hand and had his other arm around me the whole time. The queue for the chip van was massive so we had ice-cream. Then we went on the Waltzer. I nearly died it was so fast. I thought we were going to spin right out of the field. Sheila puked. She missed Matthew and me but she managed to get most of it on Dave’s crotch. He seemed really pissed off and he cleaned it up with Scooby-Doo so Sheila wasn’t too pleased either. Dave took her home before eleven because she was scared if she left it any later she’d be caught.

  I didn’t want to go home so Matthew and I went and sat by the castle overlooking dark water. There was a car parked far behind us with its headlights on, lighting the water up in just one spot. We sat there for ages talking about where we wanted to go and what we wanted to be. I asked him, if we were still together in a year’s time, could I go to America with him? He seemed really pleased and started making plans. He’s even going to ring the American embassy!!! Then he told me stories about the places he’d been there, describing New York as bustling, crowded, heaving and electric, remembering in Boston the Harvard grounds, red-brick terraces and orange sunsets, and smiling about San Francisco, hills, cable cars, the famous Wharf and the almighty Alcatraz. It sounds so amazing. Matthew’s been to America lots of times and he said it’s way better than here. He said I could be anything I wanted over there, which is great as I’m not really sure what I want but he said I’ll know it when I see it.

  It was after twelve and I still didn’t want to go home. Matthew was worried that my mam would kill me but I didn’t care so I went home with him. His dad is away with ‘his bit’ – that’s what Matthew calls her. ‘His bit’! We walked through Devil’s Glen and it was pitch dark under the trees and only lit by a perfect half-moon in the rare moments of open ground. It’s weird but I didn’t notice the moon over the water earlier by the castle! Anyway, it was not a bit scary, even though we could hear little animals rustle in the undergrowth. I don’t even want to think about what they were. Actually, aside from tripping on a root and nearly breaking my knee, it was romantic.

  Matthew’s house is unbelievable. You could fit my entire house in his living room. His room is painted a dark blue with a white ceiling and white wooden door and window frames. He’s got four massive stacks of albums, piled so high the top one is hard to reach, and a really cool record player on his floor. The lamp by his bed shines a red light!!! Like the carnival. His bed is huge – it’s even bigger than my mam’s – and mine is definitely less than half the size. It was good, though – we both had loads of room to spread out. We talked for ages under the red light and he played a band I didn’t recognize. The record was scratched so he kept getting up to sort
it out but other than that they were really good. We kissed for a while and we hugged and then we went to sleep. It was really nice. I feel safe with him. I hope we make it to America. God bless America!!!!

  Okay, now I’m running on to Wednesday of the next week in my diary. I have to get a bigger one but this is important. I forgot to say on Friday night that Sheila and Dave had sex behind the bush where we’d hidden the ladder!!! She said it wasn’t planned, which was pretty obvious seeing as it was in a bush. She said she doesn’t know what came over them. One minute they were fighting over her puking on Dave and Dave cleaning up the puke with her Scooby-Doo. Then they were kissing, which was the usual, and then she doesn’t know – she felt something, something new. I asked her to explain but she went red and said she couldn’t and that some day I’d understand, which was pretty condescending for someone who wears bunny knickers. Anyway, she said that after that she couldn’t help herself and this is coming from a girl who swore she’d never do it until she left home because if she got pregnant her mother had warned her she’d be out on her ear. And she means it. Sheila’s mam is very religious and she has always maintained that she will not live under the same roof as a sinner, which is funny because she’s quite happy to serve them booze. Now Sheila is terrified she’s pregnant even though she did a lot of jumping afterwards and thinks she got most of his stuff out. Not a pleasant thought and something I could have done without hearing. I don’t know if I’ll be able to look at Dave in the same way. I’ll see. She also managed to cut her knee on a sharp rock and she tore her bunny knickers. She still made it home by eleven because it only took five minutes. She doesn’t think she’ll do it again unless she is pregnant – then she can do it all day long every day at the side of the road where she’ll be living! Even if she does do it again I doubt it will be outdoors. She’s been stuck in bed for the past two days with a really bad cold.

  11. I am I and you are you

  Harri’s headache began with a taxi ride to Dublin airport. This was followed by a mad dash through Customs and fourteen miles of airport lounges. In Harri’s case, any exercise, most especially running, caused profuse sweating combined with a disturbing inability to control her breathing. Her gasping entrance to the plane was met with several dirty looks from the other passengers, who had had the decency to embark on time. The familiar pain in her frontal lobe was exacerbated by a nasty bump on the head when an overhead locker mysteriously shot open as she passed it. Arse.