Алекс Баркли - I Confess

They fell into silence.

‘You just want to be normal,’ said Patrick.

Laura frowned. He was such a weirdo. She leaned out to look. Jessie was nodding at Patrick, tears spilling down her face.

‘And, you know something,’ said Patrick, ‘you are normal.’

Jessie bowed her head, let out a long breath.

‘But, then, you’re not, at the same time,’ said Patrick.

Jessie looked up at him.

‘Because,’ he said, ‘you have a magical smile, and a magical laugh. And you’re a magical dancer.’

Laura frowned. He is mortifying. She started to get up.

‘You’re the only person who gets it,’ said Jessie. ‘You always know what to say.’

Laura froze, eyes wide. Since when did Jessie and Smells ever say a thing to each other? She sat back down.

‘You do know it wasn’t your fault,’ said Patrick. ‘It’s not any child’s.’

‘Sometimes, I don’t,’ said Jessie. ‘Sometimes, I think, if she says it enough times...’

Patrick took a book out of his bag. He opened it where it was bookmarked. ‘I found this and I thought you’d like it.’ He handed it to her.

She read out loud. ‘To the child you once were. You are crying now, you are lost, and you are afraid. But hurt is not your fate. I promise you that one day, you will be loved to safety. There will be arms wrapped around you to hold you tight, and never let you go. One day, someone will look you in the eye with a love so fierce, it will remind you of pain. But in that beautiful torment, you must be brave. Know that you can be loved that much, and can love that much in return. That will be your home. And it will be unbreakable.’

When Jessie told Laura, and Clare, and Edie the story the next day, she started it when Sister Consolata arrived at the bench and finished at the punchline. Laura laughed just as loud, and was just as shocked as anyone else that when Sister Consolata said “Indeed and you didn’t die”, Jessie replied, “And tough tits to you I didn’t, Sister!”’

Edie rose from the table, her eyes flickering with fear in the candlelight.

Johnny’s frown softened as he looked at her. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Are you OK? Did you get a fright?’

Edie shook her head. ‘No... yes. I... no, but the lights! What’s going on?’

‘You look shitless,’ said Laura.

‘Do I?’ said Edie.

Johnny looked across at Murph. ‘I blame you.’

‘For the lights?’ said Murph.

‘For all this research you’ve been feeding her,’ said Johnny. ‘That Rathbrook guy, seeing people disappear one minute, then reappear the next. That freaked her out completely.’

‘Hello?’ said Edie. ‘I’m right here.’

‘And do you believe in ghosts, pet?’ said Murph.

‘No,’ said Edie. ‘I do not. My “fright” was how can I bake my desserts?’

‘That is a five-star fright, in fairness,’ said Murph. ‘Luckily, I can solve the dessert and the lights problem in one simple move: bring out the birthday cake.’

Edie smiled.

‘And that,’ said Murph, turning to Johnny, ‘is how to satisfy your wife.’

Johnny got up and squeezed Murph’s shoulder as he walked past him to the door. When he stepped into the hall, he heard banging at the front door. He went over and opened it. Terry Hyland was standing three steps down, dressed in black rain gear with a high-vis vest over it, his head bowed, rain pounding down on his hood. He was holding a torch in his right hand, and tilted the beam up as he raised his head.

‘Are you trying to blind me?’ said Johnny.

‘What’s the story with the power?’ said Terry. ‘I was driving by and — bam. Lights out. Is it the storm, do you think?’

‘How the fuck would I know?’ said Johnny. ‘Do you have the key to the boiler room? I was looking for it after you left earlier.’

‘I do,’ said Terry.

Johnny let out a breath. ‘Well, would you mind taking a look at it?’

‘Sure, isn’t that why I’m here?’ said Terry. ‘These things have a mind of their own half the time.’

‘“These things” don’t have a fucking mind,’ said Johnny. ‘One wire goes here, the other goes there... how hard can it be?’

‘Hard as it is to get a bob out of you?’ said Terry, with a smile. He swayed back on his heels.

‘The bang off you,’ said Johnny.

‘Yerra, relax,’ said Terry. ‘It’s Saturday night. I’ve a few pints on me and I was about to have a few more, but I said if a man is stuck... I suppose I’m an awful prick for doing that, am I?’

Johnny hovered in the doorway. ‘Is the power gone to the whole area?’

‘No, no,’ said Terry. ‘Your fairy garden’s still lit up. And I’ve got power at my place, the Jameses next door have theirs. It could be the chapel’s the problem.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ said Johnny. ‘Why?’

‘Well, I won’t know ’til I take a look at it,’ said Terry. ‘There could have been a cable cut if a spade hit it or if a drill hit something in the chapel.’

‘And who would have done that?’ said Johnny, ‘seeing that you were in there this morning, and no one else was in after you.’

‘Did you have your eyes on it for the day?’ said Terry.

‘Well, I’m presuming you locked the thing after you,’ said Johnny, ‘but I don’t know why I’d do that.’

Terry walked up to the top step, and waited for Johnny to move.

‘Would you mind going around the back?’ said Johnny, ‘and I’ll let you in.’

‘I’m getting soaked.’

Johnny was already closing the door. He went downstairs and ducked into the wine cellar. He used the torch on his phone, pulled an envelope out from the back of a shelf, went over to the table, laid out four fat lines of coke, and snorted them. By the time he got to the back door, Terry was standing with his sour, wind-burned face up against the glass. Johnny let him in.

‘What kept you?’ said Terry. ‘It’s blowing a gale.’ He pushed past Johnny.

‘And while you’re at it,’ said Johnny, ‘could you have a look at one of the suites for me—’

‘The stables?’ said Terry. ‘Where the fine fillies go.’

Johnny gave him a patient look. ‘Yes.’

‘What’s wrong there?’ said Terry.

‘There are a few roof tiles loose by the look of it, and if anything flies off and ends up going through my conservatory window, it won’t be me paying for the glass.’

‘Well, we know that,’ said Terry. ‘But I’d need someone with me for that.’

‘You’re always fucking missing something, aren’t you?’ said Johnny.

‘Eleven grand, last time I checked,’ said Terry.

‘I told you,’ said Johnny. ‘I’m happy to pay any man for the work he’s done. But if it’s half done? Not my fucking problem. And can you keep the head down? I’ve got people here, and I don’t want them—’

‘Knowing a thing,’ said Terry, winking. ‘Of course, of course.’ He turned away and rolled his eyes. Then he yanked open the back door and stepped out into the wild night.

Johnny closed the door behind him. ‘Fucking prick,’ he said.

‘Fucking prick,’ said Terry, his words lost in the wind.

Edie made her way slowly towards the dining-room table, her face glowing in the candlelight from Helen’s birthday cake — three-tiered, chocolate, with a thick red ribbon and bow. On top, a red-icing Helen was written in perfect cursive script.

Murph stood up, and started to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. He stopped when Johnny appeared in the doorway.

‘Did you start without me?’ said Johnny.

‘Oh!’ said Edie, glancing back.

‘I assumed he was coming in behind you,’ said Helen. ‘Sorry, Johnny.’