Алекс Баркли - I Confess

‘And...’ said his father, his head rolling away from him. ‘... Rosco.’

Murph wanted to run now, at the thought he might hear something upsetting. Now his father was gripping his hand, and looking at him again. He put his other hand to Murph’s cheek. ‘... gone,’ he said. ‘Gone.’

And then his chest seemed to collapse in on itself, and his shoulders shook, and he let out a terrible sob. ‘... And the child,’ he said, sobbing again ‘... and the child without...’ His breath heaved. ‘And the child... without a...’

Mam, Murph was thinking. Mam.

Rosco had been missing for five weeks. And every morning since, Murph woke up, thinking this was the day Rosco would come running up the drive and jump into his arms with the absolute confidence that he would always, always be caught.

But there was something about the way his father said ‘gone’ that told Murph tomorrow morning, things might be different.

Edie was standing in the window of the Billiard Room, her cheeks flushed, fanning her face with her hand. The rain was loud as it pounded on the windows, intermittently quietening when it was whipped in a different direction by powerful gusts. Edie looked at her reflection in the window and adjusted her hair. She went to the door and opened it gently, pausing on the threshold before going into the hallway and turning right. She walked down to the entrance hall, opened the door of the honesty bar and stuck her head in.

Laura was standing in front of Johnny’s photo wall, holding a black-and-white photo of him in her hands. She looked up at Edie and laughed. ‘It fell,’ she said. She held up the torn string at the back of it.

Edie laughed. ‘Well, I didn’t think you were standing there admiring it.’

‘Lucky it didn’t break,’ said Laura.

‘I know,’ said Edie. ‘The symmetry would be all off.’

Laura handed it to her. Edie put it on the floor against the wall.

‘Where’s Murph?’ said Laura.

‘He was here last time I saw him,’ said Edie. ‘God knows.’

‘Is Clare not with you?’ said Laura.

‘I left her in the library,’ said Edie. ‘I presume she’s still up there.’

Laura looked around the room. ‘You did a fabulous job on the place.’

‘Thank you,’ said Edie. ‘Are you OK for a drink?’

Laura tapped her glass. ‘I helped myself.’

‘I hope so,’ said Edie. ‘I don’t feel like I’m being a very attentive hostess tonight.’

‘Jesus — relax,’ said Laura. ‘We’re happy out.’

‘I have to find Johnny,’ said Edie. ‘What do you want to do? I feel bad leaving you here on your own.’

‘Do you have any idea how rare it is for me to have a room to myself?’ said Laura. ‘I have the three of them following me around the place the whole time. None of them can make a decision by themselves. “Mammy, can I?” whatever. “Laura, can he?” whatever. “Am I allowed?” this, that, and the other. It would do your head in.’

‘I know,’ said Edie. ‘They’re helpless.’

‘I was watching this programme about people who go into cults and they have to be deprogrammed when they come out and I thought: Someone needs to set something like that up over here for men whose mammies did everything for them. Frank’s mother made a balls of him.’

Edie laughed. ‘Did you say that to her?’

‘Probably at some wedding or other,’ said Laura. ‘Probably at our wedding.’

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right here?’ said Edie.

‘Yes!’ said Laura. ‘Go. I’ll stay here admiring photos of Johnny.’

Edie laughed. ‘As soon as I find him, I’ll be back. I’m done now — all I want to do is sit back for the rest of the night.’

Patrick stuck his head in the door behind her. ‘Ladies,’ he said.

‘Right,’ said Edie, turning to Laura. ‘I’ll leave you in Patrick’s capable hands.’

‘Am I interrupting you?’ said Patrick.

‘Not at all,’ said Edie.

‘No,’ said Laura. ‘Get in here, stay quiet, and don’t ask me any questions.’

Edie went out into the hall, then walked down to the conservatory. The double doors were open. She reached out for the handles to close them when a movement outside caught her eye. She walked across the room, and up to the glass. Outside, by a pallet of cinder blocks, a sheet of tarpaulin was inflating and deflating in the wind. As she watched, one strong gust blasted it up against the blocks. Edie squinted into the darkness. As the tarpaulin floated down, she could see hair, the top of a bloodied head, and a body that was very still. It was Terry Hyland.

Edie screamed and ran to get the others.

The rain had stopped, but the wind was wild, tearing at the trees, whipping water from the puddles. The narrow rope of the flagpole was slapping against it, the metal clasp sending a faint chime into the night.

Murph was the first to reach the body. He crouched, covered his hand with the sleeve of his rain jacket, and pulled back the tarpaulin, exposing Terry’s head, his grey face, and the mess that had been made of the left side; through a gaping wound, the visible white of bone shone from the darkness of the pulped flesh around it.

Murph batted his hand behind him. ‘Don’t, lads. Get back t’fuck.’

He looked, wide-eyed, at Edie, lost inside a black rain jacket to her knees, holding her hood closed under her chin, bracing herself against the wind. Johnny stood, rooted, four feet to her left.

Clare walked towards the body.

‘Clare — don’t,’ said Murph. ‘Don’t.’

‘For God’s sake — I’m a big girl,’ said Clare. Still, as soon as her gaze lowered to Terry, she lurched to one side, stumbling in the mud before she righted herself.

Patrick walked towards the body, but stopped a foot short of it. He winced and turned away, bowing his head, making a swift sign of the cross, ignoring Johnny as he walked past him to Murph.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Johnny. ‘What the fuck happened here?’

Murph looked at him.

‘What?’ said Johnny. ‘How the hell would I know?’ He glanced up at the roof and back down at Terry. ‘He must have slipped.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was half-cut when he got here.’

‘What the fuck was he doing up there if he was pissed?’ said Murph.

‘“Half-cut,” I said.’

‘Well, whatever fraction cut he was,’ said Murph. ‘What? You thought he could—’

‘Fix his own fuck-ups!’ said Johnny.

‘I get it,’ said Murph, ‘but what was the big rush? Could you not have—’

‘It was while he was here!’ said Johnny, ‘I was thinking — there’s a gale force fucking wind out there, we’ve friends staying, we’ve no electricity and I don’t trust that something’s not going to blow off somewhere and kill someone.’

‘What makes you think he fell off the roof?’ said Laura. ‘How did he get up there? Is there a ladder anywhere? And even if there was — what? He fell off, landed neatly in the gap between two pallets and wrapped himself in tarpaulin?’

Johnny stared at her. Murph walked around the pallets and shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He locked eyes with Johnny. ‘Jesus.’

Johnny looked, panicked, at Laura. ‘But... what...? Couldn’t he have...’ He glanced at the top of the blocks. He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Jesus Christ. What are you saying? You’re not saying...’

Laura nodded. ‘I am. I’m sorry, but...’

Murph crouched at Terry’s head and studied the wounds. Then he nodded slowly and looked up at Johnny. ‘I think she’s right. I think someone... did this.’

‘What? No way,’ said Johnny. ‘There’s no way...Who, even? Why?’ He looked around the group. ‘Whoa. What the fuck is this? Why are you all looking at me? Jesus Christ — you’re all looking at me.’ His eyes were wide, his pupils huge. He stopped at Edie. Her hands were over her mouth, her fingers trembling, her eyes filled with tears.