Алекс Баркли - I Confess

Clare shook her head, firmly, quickly. ‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

‘Thanks,’ he said.

Clare turned her head sharply and walked towards the door with such calm purpose that he thought he had dreamt the whole thing.

Murph left the bar and walked down the hall to Reception. Johnny was walking towards him.

‘What the hell’s going on with the lights?’ said Murph, gesturing around. ‘I mean, obviously it suits me, but...’

‘He’s some useless piece of shit, Terry,’ said Johnny.

‘Well, we know that,’ said Murph. ‘But is he making any progress?’

‘I’d need to find him first.’

‘You literally couldn’t have got a worse guy—’

‘Would you shut up about it?’ said Johnny. ‘I fucking know.’

‘Look,’ said Murph. ‘I’m just a forty-six-year-old man standing in front of a way-older, less-attractive man, asking him why the fuck he hired a particular tradesman.’

Johnny looked confused.

‘Wasted on you,’ said Murph. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Quick one,’ said Johnny. ‘Have you talked to Patrick much?’

Murph nodded. ‘I was chatting to him there — he was having a look at your plans for the spa — said he needed to talk to you about it.’

‘What?’ said Johnny. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Murph. ‘I hate all that shite.’

‘And it’s definitely hedge funds he’s in,’ said Johnny.

‘Yeah — what’s that got to do with anything?’ said Murph.

‘Not vulture funds.’

Murph laughed. ‘You know they only buy places that are fucked, right?’

Johnny laughed.

‘In fairness, though — he did view it when it was up for sale.’

‘What?’

‘Your face — would you relax? Viewed it. Didn’t put in an offer. Nothing weird is going on. Patrick is not here to run off with your inn.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Johnny. ‘It’s...’ He shrugged.

Murph let out a dramatic gasp. He leaned into Johnny, eyes wide. ‘Maybe he’s back for vengeance! Against the boarding school prick who bullied him!’ Murph did a voiceover voice: ‘Inn Escapable: the story of Patrick — the boy who waited thirty years to grow muscles, so he could finally face down the rugby hero he hadn’t realized had let himself go.’

Johnny laughed. ‘You prick.’

‘Right,’ said Murph. ‘Are you OK now?’

Johnny nodded. ‘Where are you off to?’

Murph turned around and started walking away backwards. ‘None of your business.’ He shrugged and held his hands out. ‘You’ve lost control of the crowd, Johnny. And you know what happens then?’ He shook his fists in the air. ‘The crowd goes wiiild.’

Helen looked around her suite — elegant, understated, and now award-winning.

Edie had included every item on the wish list she asked her to write — all the things that would make a wheelchair-user’s stay the most comfortable possible: a door to the en suite wide enough for the wheelchair to get through but not too heavy that she couldn’t open it herself, mirrors — mounted at the right height — in the bedroom and the bathroom, room for the wheelchair at both sides of the bed, room to open the wardrobe door and be in front of it, clothes rails at the right height, grab rails by the sink, grab rails by the toilet, shower with a drop-down seat, emergency pull cords in convenient places.

She started to cry.

Edie walked down the hallway and slipped in the door to the Billiard Room.

‘Oh... my God! Murph!’ she said, startled. ‘What are you doing in here?’

Murph was sitting alone in the dark, staring out the window, holding an empty glass on the arm of the chair. He glanced briefly at her but turned back to the window.

‘Are you all on your ownsome?’ said Edie.

Murph nodded, but didn’t look at her. Edie walked to the window and looked out. ‘The silence.’ Some of the force had gone from the wind and the rain had stopped. ‘I’d say it’s only a lull, though.’

Murph didn’t reply. She turned around to him. He looked up at her, his eyes damp.

‘Sorry,’ he said. I’m a bit worse for wear.’ He pressed his thumbs into the corners of his eyes.

‘Oh, no,’ said Edie. ‘What is it?’

Murph showed her the photo he was holding in his left hand.

‘Aw — you and Rosco,’ said Edie. ‘What is it? Talk to me.’

Murph let out a long breath. ‘I suppose... I’m listening to you in there and all Helen’s done for everyone... and...’ He shrugged. ‘What have I done, except—’

‘Make everyone laugh?’ said Edie. She touched his shoulder. ‘Move.’ He did, and she sat down on the arm of the chair.

‘Thanks, but...’ He let out another breath. ‘Who have I saved?’

‘Saved?’ said Edie. ‘Gosh, who have I saved? What do you mean?’

‘Do you know when the weirdest thing hits you?’ He held up the photo again. ‘I couldn’t even save Rosco. A dog.’

‘Because he’s a dog and he ran away, didn’t he?’ said Edie. ‘And it’s sad but that’s what dogs do.’

‘He was last seen headed for here, as a matter of fact.’

‘What?’ said Edie.

‘Rosco used to come here with dad when he was working. Until Consolata fired him.’

‘Why?’ said Edie.

‘I don’t know,’ said Murph, ‘but one night — he was in a bad way with the drink — and he was saying something about her blackening his name with her lies. He was in an awful state.’

‘When was that?’

‘It wasn’t long before Mam died. It was right before first year. The same year poor Jessie...’

‘Imagine firing a man whose wife was dying of cancer,’ said Edie.

‘Yup,’ said Murph. ‘Maybe Rosco was coming up to eat the face off her.’

‘I know you loved him,’ said Edie, ‘but—’

‘It’s not that,’ said Murph. ‘It’s... Mam... Dad... Rosco. And then Jessie.’

‘Ah,’ said Edie.

Murph shook his head. ‘I killed Jessie and that’s that. I know no one wants to say it out loud, but it’s a fact. I could have killed you all. My pals. Because I wanted to make you laugh. I mean, I wanted to scare the shite out of you — that was the main thing...’

Tears welled in Edie’s eyes. ‘Oh, Murph.’ She patted his shoulder.

He looked up at her and gave her a sad smile. She blinked back tears. Then she reached out, took his hand, brought it to her lap and squeezed it tight. ‘You didn’t kill Jessie. And you couldn’t have saved her. Neither could I and neither could Patrick.’

‘You must have had therapy.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Edie. She squeezed his hand again. ‘She didn’t want to be saved.’

‘What?’

‘Patrick and I were there. At the end. We saw what happened.’

‘What do you mean “saw what happened”?’

‘She wanted to go,’ said Edie. ‘She wanted to go.’

Murph looked up at her, wide-eyed.

‘She was so damaged,’ said Edie. ‘So, so damaged.’

‘But why didn’t you say anything?’ said Murph.

‘It would have been too much for her parents to bear,’ said Edie. ‘It was horrifying. That’s all I’m going to say. I can still see it. And I thought... I don’t know. I thought that it was one thing for everyone to think “she was drunk, it might have slowed her down, she wouldn’t have felt a thing” but quite another for them to imagine what we saw, to know it was a choice she made.’

‘Are you sure, though?’ said Murph. ‘It must have been so hard to see.’

‘Sadly, we could. We talked about it. Once. A few months later. And we both saw the same thing.’

Murph shook his head. ‘That’s shocking.’

‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t say anything — it was too much.’