Liz Nugent - Lying in Wait

I rang Laurence at work and asked him straight out if Dessie had assaulted him. He sheepishly confirmed it.

‘But why didn’t you tell me?’

‘It would have ruined our trip.’

‘I’m so sorry, Laurence.’

‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault, but do me a favour and don’t go back to him.’

‘I… I won’t.’

‘Good.’

Mixed messages again. Laurence didn’t want me to get back with my husband.

I was still looking for Annie, but I was looking for a flat too. Yvonne told me my shoot in Rome had been a huge success, and I had more money than I’d ever had and more offers of work in Milan and Paris. Yvonne was worried that I’d move to London and change agent, and maybe I would have if I hadn’t still been looking for Annie. Also, I felt a loyalty to Yvonne. I would still have been in the dry-cleaner’s and living with Dessie if she hadn’t taken me under her wing. I hadn’t told her that Annie was still alive. I didn’t want her to know that her son had been wrong.

The weekend after I got back from Rome, Bridget rang to tell me that she’d got an office transfer to Mullingar in the meantime and that I should come see her there and stay in her new flat to continue my search for Annie. I agreed to go, and on the first Friday night of my visit, I admired her new home. It was a shared house on a new housing estate just outside the town. She shared with two other girls, who were watching Blind Date on TV. We took a bottle of wine up to her room, where she had a pull-out mattress for me on the floor. I drank too much and told her that Laurence had come to Rome with me. I immediately regretted it.

‘He… what?’

‘I was going anyway, and he said he needed a holiday, so he just booked the same flight as me. It made sense. I should have told you before, but I didn’t want you jumping to conclusions. I mean, we met for a drink one night after you split up…’ With every word, I was making it worse, over-explaining everything. ‘But there’s nothing going on, I promise. You believe me, don’t you?’

I didn’t know until then that it was possible to tell the truth and still feel like a liar. She was distant with me for the rest of the weekend. She said she had a cold the next day, so I went around the town on my own, showing Annie’s photo, asking if anyone had seen her. I got more or less the same response as I’d had in Athlone. Annie looked like someone they used to know. What was wrong with her mouth? Why was I looking for her? Had I reported it to the guards? This time I didn’t go into any explanations.

I went back to Bridget’s house wet, cold and disheartened. She spoke little to me that evening. Eventually, I broached the subject of Laurence again.

‘I should have known,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. He was always so much nicer when you were around. And he spent so much time and effort trying to find your sister’s murderer. I always thought it was ridiculous. Like you were playing at being detectives.’

‘It isn’t a game!’

‘The two of you have made a fool out of me. You can lie to yourself that he’s not interested in you, but look at us.’ She pointed to the mirror behind us. ‘Who would you choose if you were him?’

‘Please, Bridget, he’s never made a move on me, I swear—’

‘Give him time, he’s just waiting. God knows, he wouldn’t want to do anything inappropriate. You’re a married woman.’ There was a bitterness to her tone.

The next morning I returned to Dublin utterly miserable. I told Ma and Da that I was going to be moving into my own place. Ma cried and said I should be moving back in with my husband, but Da understood. I warned Ma not to give Dessie any more information about me or my friends. My new apartment was on Appian Way.

‘But sure, we don’t know anyone who lives around there,’ said Ma. She was uncomfortable with the idea of me living where I didn’t belong.

‘I’ll get the keys soon and then you can come over for dinner, Ma. You’ll love it.’

I was woken early the following week when Ma came into my room. Her hands were shaking. ‘There’s another letter, with a parcel. From Annie. It’s for you.’

I turned the package over in my hands. The postmark was Athlone. The wrapping on the parcel was torn on one corner and, without ripping the paper away, I could see it was a set of oil paints in a clear plastic case.

Dear Karen

I wrote to ma a few weeks ago and im sure you probabley herd about it. i bin thinking about you a lot and I know I should have writen to you and da as well. i know I done a terrible thing running away and leaving you all to worrie about me and i keep tinking about that art set i never got you like i said i would. im never going to be able to make it up to you for the trouble I coused but I hope youll get to use these paints some time. the thing is I herd that someones bin loking for me and I think its you. if you love me your to leave me alone don’t worrie about me im safe and happy and even thow I miss all of youss even da I know he never ment to be croull to me.

Its bette that you let me do my owen thing. One day I mite surprise you and pae a viset but please don’t look for me. ill come to you when im readie.

Love your Annie.

I passed the letter to Ma, who read it out to Da. He looked at the shapes of the letters and said for the first time that I could recall, ‘I wish I could read.’

‘Amn’t I forever offering to teach you?’ said Ma. ‘But you were always too proud.’

‘Not any more,’ he said.

They held each other and it was as if they were losing Annie all over again, but they’d found each other. I left them alone and went to my room.

She was in Mullingar, or thereabouts. She had to be. Someone I showed the photo to had recognized her and reported back. I wondered if it was the shifty-looking fella in the betting shop. He had been really uncomfortable about the whole thing. I wondered why she wouldn’t let me into her life. I knew from the letter to Ma that she had a new name, so she had probably made up a history for herself that didn’t match the truth and, when I thought about it, it made sense.

I rang Bridget. I expected her to be frosty with me, but she sounded more relaxed. I told her about the letter.

‘She’s in Mullingar, or somewhere around there. Do you still have the photo I left? Will you keep an eye out for her?’

‘Yeah, of course I will. I’m glad you’re a bit closer to finding her.’

‘I’ll probably leave her alone now. She doesn’t want to know me, but I’m sort of less annoyed with her now, if that makes any sense?’

‘Yeah.’

There was a pause.

‘Have you seen Laurence?’

I could answer honestly: ‘No, haven’t seen him since I last talked to you.’

‘Right.’

‘Why?’

‘I think… I’m sorry I was suspicious of you two.’

‘It’s OK, it must have seemed weird.’

‘Yeah, it’s just that I think he wants to get back with me.’

I inhaled deeply. ‘Yeah?’

‘Josie spotted him down the town in Athlone on Saturday. I think he was probably thinking of coming to my house, but he lost his nerve. He probably didn’t know I’d moved to Mullingar.’ Bridget was breathless with excitement.

‘But he never went to your folks’ house?’

‘No, you know how nervous he can get, and after what happened last time I don’t blame him. I rang him last night and left a message, but the bitch of a mother probably never passed it on. I’ll ring him in work tomorrow.’

I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. ‘Great, that’s great. I’m really pleased for you. Honestly,’ I said, dishonestly.