Martin Edwards: I Remember You

‘The butterflies?’

‘Yes. He said tattoos on women turned him on, but I think it was something more than that. He wanted my body to bear his insignia permanently, so that although one day he would tire of me, I would never be free of him.’

A tremor ran through her body. He wanted to put his arms round her, but knew it would be the wrong thing to do.

‘I’ll never forget the pain. I thought it would never end and I screamed in agony — it was like an injection coupled with a dentist’s drill. But even worse was watching my body being disfigured forever on a psychopath’s whim.’

Harry flinched. He could almost feel the tip of the needle entering his own skin. So much for the romance of carrying your life history on your flesh.

‘And you got to know Finbar?’

‘Yes. He twitched at the mention of Cato’s name — no shame in that, most people did. He’d grown up in the same street, he knew what Cato was capable of. I could tell he fancied me, but he didn’t dare do anything about it. If Cato had found anyone messing around with me, he’d have gone berserk. A word out of place could cost a man his kneecaps. Try to take Cato’s woman and he’d have you begging for a swift end.’ She touched the place where her cheek was marked. ‘This scar is the legacy of a small disagreement we had. I had the temerity to argue with him about the armed struggle. He soon put me right.’

Nausea swamped Harry. ‘How could you stand living with him?’

‘Strange what you can get used to when you have no choice. Cato wasn’t a man you jilted. I once heard of a girl who did exactly that, before I met him. One night, a couple of masked men jumped out on her as she was walking home. They threw acid in her face and ruined it, as well as blinding her in one eye. Then they crippled her new feller for good measure.’

‘So how did you get away?’

‘He wanted me to do something, to stay in Belfast with a friend of his called Fitz. I was to go with Fitz’s sister one night to a bar in a Prot area. British soldiers used to frequent the place, you see. We were supposed to chat up a couple of them, let them think they were in for an easy lay. We had to invite them home, then lead them instead to Fitz’s flat.’

‘And?’

‘Cato never told me more than he thought I needed to know. All the same, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess what would happen to the Brits. He was ordering me to lead them to their deaths.’

‘And did you?’

‘No!’

Her denial was passionate and he did not doubt its truth. Next door he could hear Baz chatting to the audience. The party was in full swing.

‘So you disobeyed Cato?’

‘I pretended to be sick, feigned bad stomach pains. I managed to convince the doctor I was dying and he rushed me into hospital. Cato didn’t visit me. He’d wanted his killings to coincide with some bloody Republican anniversary or other. He left for the North, to make sure someone would die on schedule, whether I did his dirty work or not.’ She winced at the recollection. ‘First chance I got, I discharged myself from hospital, headed for Dun Laoghaire. I’d taken a case with me and I’d packed all the clothes and money I could lay my hands on — precious little it amounted to. I caught the ferry to Holyhead and hitched all the way to Liverpool. I reckoned it was time to begin again.’

‘So you became Penny Newland?’

She contrived a faint smile. ‘Because I found a bedsitter in Penny Lane. Could have been worse — I might have become Miss Upper-Parliament, if I’d lived a couple of roads away.’ The smile faded. ‘I had to bury the past. If Pearse Cato had ever caught up with me, I’d have been dead meat. And as soon as I got off the boat I couldn’t miss the story in the papers, about the murder of a young soldier over in Northern Ireland. He was called John Gilbert. The surname meant nothing to me then, of course.’

‘When did you get into local radio?’

‘At first, I tried what I knew best, working behind a bar. I served pints morning, noon and night till I’d saved enough to take a secretarial course so I could find myself a better job. A year ago I fetched up at Radio Liverpool and met Baz. The rest you know.’ She paused. ‘Or do you? Exactly what was it brought you here?’

A long trail, he thought. Debbie, of all people, had given him a clue; she’d spoken of the kind of man a woman could die for. Might a man who engendered such strength of passion also be one that a woman could kill for? He’d been thinking idly — perhaps enviously — of the devotion Penny showed at every turn to Baz. When Melissa told him Finbar’s acquaintance with Sophie did not in fact date back over the years, he had puzzled over the identity of the girl whom Finbar had hoped to meet at the Danger, after running into her again on the day of the fire. The day of his appearance on Pop In .

Could it have been Penny? She had an Irish accent and in the theatre bar Baz had implied that she’d dropped into the studio — in the way people often did — whilst Finbar was on the air. Harry recalled Finbar having a private word with Penny during the exhibition; he’d hinted he knew her. And Harry recalled what Debbie had said about changing her identity, making a new start. A new start — in a new land?

So he’d checked with Dermot McCray, who made gruff reference to rumours that Finbar had once tattooed the breasts of Pearse Cato’s girlfriend and that when she’d run out on the terrorist, he’d vowed to kill her. But she had disappeared for good.

Harry remembered Finbar mentioning a butterfly tattoo whilst he’d dozed in the flat on the night of the exhibition. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall details, but once back from the De Valera, he’d uncrumpled the picture Finbar had swiftly sketched to illustrate a story: something about a girl he had an interest in.

When Sophie told him about the song Finbar had chosen on impulse just before going on air, he had hardly needed to confirm that Penny Newland was the marketing manager’s secretary whom Finbar had, according to the receptionist at Radio Liverpool, spoken to on the last afternoon of his life. No prizes for guessing that he’d tried his luck with her. But at last that luck had run out.

‘Finbar brought me,’ he said, finally. ‘I felt I owed it to him, to understand why he was killed.’

Penny gazed at him steadily. ‘He was a selfish man. Not wicked, like Pearse Cato — I don’t claim that I rid the world of a monster, whereas I’d have been glad to fire the bullets that blew out Cato’s brains. When I heard the news he was dead, I could scarcely contain my joy. I thought I’d succeeded in destroying my own past.’

‘Your path and Finbar’s never crossed in Liverpool?’

‘Not once. I’d been told Melissa had a new man, but she and I never had much to do with each other. She sat at her desk outside the MD’s office and I was downstairs, so I didn’t hear the new boyfriend’s name and it never crossed my mind it might be Finbar Rogan. I hadn’t even heard he’d moved over to England; as far as I knew he was still plying his trade back in Dublin. That’s not to say I’d been able to put him out of my mind. After all, I carried his handiwork around with me every day of my life.’

‘Didn’t Baz ask questions about the butterflies?’

‘He’s always loved them — poor fool. So perhaps something good did come out of my time with Cato, after all.’

‘I suppose it was simply bad luck so far as you were concerned. You dropped in to Pop In and, lo and behold, who should be there goggling at you but Finbar Rogan.’

‘We knew each other at once. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was too crafty to greet me when Baz and Sophie were there, so he talked about a song called “Elusive Butterfly” and finally plumped for “I Remember You”.’