Page 51 of Final Betrayal

‘Talk to your mother. Alexis is the one who betrayed you and Bernie. She’s the only one who knows the truth, and when she feels like it, she will tell you.’

‘Alexis died.’

That stopped Lottie in her tracks. ‘When? I didn’t know. I’m sorry.’ She wasn’t, but it was the right thing to say. Alexis was her biological mother’s sister, and she had separated the twins as toddlers, taking Leo to New York with her and leaving Bernie to live half her life in an institution.

‘A few weeks ago. That’s why I came back. It’s eating me up. I have to know, and I thought Bernie could fill in the gaps.’

The door of the Indian restaurant opened and a man walked out with two bags of takeaway food. Lottie felt her stomach rumble. The sausage rolls had done nothing to fill the hollow.

‘You have phone calls to make. I wish you luck. Don’t come near me again unless it’s to tell me she’s locked up. Okay?’

As Leo returned to his rental car, Lottie felt a little bit of her heart break away. She’d lost one brother at the hands of a madman; was she about to lose another? She cared about Leo but didn’t want to show him. She had enough shit to worry about.

TWENTY-SIX

‘I was better off in jail,’ Conor muttered to himself as he stuffed his mother’s soiled clothing into the washing machine. At least inside there’d been a full laundry service. He put the morning’s wash into the dryer and hoped it worked properly or he’d have nothing to wear to work tomorrow.

‘What did you say?’ came the voice from the living room.

Nothing wrong with her ears. Not a thing. Even though she played the martyr and liked him to think she was losing her hearing as well as her marbles.

He didn’t answer. Let her think he hadn’t heard. It had been a long, miserable day and he wanted to crawl into his own bed without having to make up hers. But she was putting a roof over his head, as she’d told him a million times since his release, and he was expected to do bits and pieces around the house. He set the machine to a quick wash and opened the refrigerator. She had to have warm milk every night.

‘Oh no,’ he said to the bare door of the appliance.

‘What’s that?’

‘I’ve to go out to get milk. We’ve none left.’ He shut the door and grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair before going to the living room door. ‘Have you got any change?’

‘Why didn’t you make sure we had enough? It’s your responsibility now that I’m giving you a place to stay. You need to pull your weight. I …’

He tuned her out. Saw her purse on the mantelpiece. Took out a five-euro note.

‘I want that back when you get paid,’ she said.

‘Sure.’ He buttoned his jacket. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘It’s raining out. I can hear the wind …’

She was still talking when he pulled the front door shut behind him. He had no idea how much longer he could stick this life. It had been better in jail. And that had been total shit.

Katie whispered a kiss on Louis’ head and turned on the dim night light. He sucked hungrily on his bottle and she smiled. He was such a good baby really. Not a baby any more, she thought, as she recalled his first steps two days after he turned one.

She wondered what her life would have been like if Jason hadn’t been murdered. These days she found it hard to remember Louis’ dad. The only photos she had of him had been lost when she’d upgraded her phone. But she told Louis all about him. Made most of it up, if she wanted to be totally honest. She’d only been with Jason a few short months when he’d been killed. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant. But she’d kept the baby and never regretted her decision.

She thumbed the curtains apart and looked out. The dark evenings gave her goose bumps, and she hoped Louis was warm enough in his sleeping-bag and fleece blanket his grandad had sent from New York. The wind was rising and leaves whistled down to the ground from increasingly bare branches. She liked the new estate. It was quiet. Maybe too quiet. If it wasn’t for the wind, she’d describe it as deathly silent. Rain began to spill in diagonal sheets, sweeping the leaves down the road. Shadows danced in the rain and she turned away.

The sucking ceased, so Katie took the bottle from her now sleeping son. A finger of fear traced a line down the nape of her neck. She rushed back to the window and looked out. Was that a shadow she’d seen behind the wall across the road? Someone crouching at the entrance to the laneway that led to the rear of St Catherine’s retirement home? But there was no one there now. Why had she felt fear? As she turned back to watch her son, she remembered that she’d sensed the same feeling yesterday in the shop. Should she tell her mother? Good God, no. Lottie would go into detective mode and put a clamp on her freedom, even if she was only imagining things.

Pulling up the old chair she’d brought from her granny’s house, Katie sat down, drew her legs beneath her and snuggled under a blanket. She suspected that tonight she wouldn’t be able to sleep in her bed. She had to keep watch over her son. Because she was convinced that someone else had been keeping watch over her. And not in a good way.

Sipping a pint at the bar in the Parkland Hotel lounge, Tony Keegan was trying to ignore the wedding crowd singing loudly on the opposite side of the room. Stilettos and bling usually excited the hell out of him. Girls with caked-on make-up, mascara so thick it looked like ink, and fake-tanned legs hovered around encroaching on his thoughts. Despite trying to be oblivious, he couldn’t help the hard-on giving him an ache in his groin. His hair was still damp from the rain. It was a curse of a night to be out. He should feel pity for the anonymous bride who had to brave the downpour on her wedding day, but fuck her and her fairy-tale ideas. This was real life, where there were no happy endings. Not that he’d seen so far.

The pint tasted bitter. Probably dredged from the end of the barrel. He should send it back, but the girl behind the bar was already struggling with the crowd. She had good legs, natural. No fake tan for her. He found himself wondering if she had been to Spain on her holidays. That would be a nice escape. If he had the money. Which he hadn’t. And now Conor was back.

He took a gulp of the putrid beer and let out a loud belch. Awful. He raised a hand to summon the girl, but she either didn’t see it or just plain ignored him. She knew who the good tippers were. Not him. Clever girl. Didn’t change the fact that he still had to drink a pint of slop.

He drained his glass and stood. Despite the rain outside, he knew he would feel better out there.

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