A Suitable Lie (34 page)

T
hey both turned to face me at the same instant. Hunter’s face lengthened in surprise. Ryan’s burst into a smile.

‘Daddy,’ he sang. ‘Daddy.’

Hunter rose out of his crouch and held Ryan back.

‘Clever daddy found us,’ Hunter said.

‘Jelly fishing,’ Ryan said and pointed at his bucket. ‘Jelly fishing.’ From where I was standing I could see that the bucket was almost full to the brim. The water was opaque with little bits of pink.

‘What are you playing at?’ I asked and with every cell in my body, I wanted to crash through Hunter, pick up Ryan and carry him away to safety, but I reined myself in. I had to do this in a way that had least impact on my son.

Words first.

If that didn’t work I was prepared to use whatever would.

‘Anna played us both,’ Ken said. ‘She was a damaged woman, but at least,’ he looked down at Ryan with a smile that surprised me in its warmth. ‘… at least she brought me this wee charmer.’

‘If you think you are walking off this beach with my son, your brain has taken up residence in Mars.’

‘Thing is, big guy. He’s not your son. He’s mine.’

As he spoke the light in his eyes died and they took on a dark lustre that almost had me take a step back. A shadowed part of me recognised that darkness, refused to give it a name, reeled from its danger.

‘And when, in this fairy tale of yours do you describe to the boy how you killed his mother?’ I hissed.

‘He’ll understand one day.’ He shrugged as if her murder was the matter of a simple disagreement. ‘In a way, it was what she really wanted.’

‘Gimme a break, mate…’

‘You’re not hearing me,
mate
. She
wanted
me to kill her. It was like she’d had enough. She’d tried for long enough to goad you into it, but she knew I didn’t have the same weakness.’

‘What the hell are you talking about, Hunter?’

‘Daddy?’ Ryan’s face tightened as something in him noted the change in atmosphere.

‘It’s okay, son,’ I said. ‘We’ll be going home to Gran’s shortly.’

‘What part of,
he’s my son
, don’t you understand?’ Hunter took a step to the side, hiding Ryan behind his legs.

‘She was lying to you, Ken. It’s what she did. She worked out what would mess with your head and she’d lay it on you.’

‘I was shagging her for years,’ Hunter crowed. ‘And you, Mr Pillar of Society knew nothing.’ He grinned. Feral. ‘Anna told me everything. We used to laugh when she’d describe how you just lay there and took it. The big rugby player couldn’t hit back.’ He sang the last sentence with an effeminate tone. ‘Call yourself a man? You’re pathetic. There’s no way you have the balls to father a son like this.
That’s
how I know he’s mine.’

‘I wouldn’t hit a woman,’ I said, my anger threatening to spill over. ‘But I can as sure as fuck take a piece of you. So, step aside, let me take my boy home and we’ll say no more about it.’

‘This…’ Hunter reached into a back pocket, brought out a knife and flicked it open ‘… says otherwise.’ It was a small weapon, but I had no doubt it could cause a serious amount of damage.

‘I’ll shove that knife up your arse.’

‘You’d like to try,’ said Hunter, flashing his teeth. He pulled Ryan round so that he stood at the side furthest from me.

Ryan squealed in surprise, his eyes large with fear.

Hunter pointed the knife at Ryan. ‘What do you think?’ he asked in a reasonable tone, as if he was about to take him to the shop to buy an ice-cream. ‘You let us leave the beach and no one gets hurt.’

‘Yeah, cos that’s good fathering right there,’ I said. ‘Aren’t you a great example? Wasn’t it enough that you killed his mother?’

‘I’d rather kill him too than see you walk off with him.’

A cold calm came over me. ‘Anything happens to that boy and I will rip your head from your shoulders.’

Hunter chuckled. Threw his head back and belly-laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

‘You’re a pussy, Boyd. You’ve proved that a thousand times. Sure, you can swing a punch, but actually do any harm?’ He snorted. Grew serious. Pulled Ryan in to his side with his left arm and with his right held the knife under his throat. ‘One movement and it will all be over. The wee lamb won’t even feel a thing.’

‘Hurt him and I swear to God…’ I took a step closer, my breath coming in gasps.

‘Pussy, Boyd. You’re a pussy.’ He took a step to the side.

I could rush him, but there was a strong chance that Ryan would get hurt. I looked around me for a weapon. Nothing, apart from the bamboo pole and the bucket.

I thought about scooping up some sand and throwing it in his face. Discounted that. I scanned the beach around me.

Not even as much as a stick.

The red bucket.

‘Okay, Hunter.’ I took a step closer. ‘If you’re convinced Ryan’s yours, why don’t we take a test. A DNA test and sort it once and for all?’

He stepped to the right. Ryan briefly struggled against his grip, looked up at the man who had been kind to him so far. Confusion brought a trembling lip and then tears.

‘I want my daddy,’ he cried.

‘You’re upsetting him, Ken,’ I said and moved closer again.

‘There, there, wee buddy,’ said Hunter. ‘It will soon be over. Don’t worry.’

I heard a shout from behind me and the rapid approach of several pairs of running feet.

‘Put down the weapon,’ I heard a male voice shout.

I turned. It was Detective Bairden with Jim and a pair of uniformed policemen. They were about twenty metres away.

‘Yeah, that’s going to happen,’ Hunter laughed. Then shouted, ‘All of you keep back or the boy gets it.’ From his fixed and determined expression I knew he was serious. I had to do something before the police reached us. The space between Ryan’s flesh and that knife was getting shorter and shorter.

While Hunter was distracted by the police, I lunged forward, picked up the bucket of jellyfish and threw it in his face.

He screamed. And in his drive to put his hands to his face, dropped the knife and released Ryan.

I dived for my son, pulled him into my arms, and scrambled out of Hunter’s reach.

Ryan burrowed into my shoulder. He was sobbing, his little body thrumming with fear.

‘What have you done to my face?’ screamed Hunter and fell to his knees. ‘Somebody wash it off me. Wash it off me.’

Detective Bairden reached me, patted Ryan on the back and smiled over at Hunter. ‘That looks quite painful,’ he said. ‘Or is he just a big wean?’

Now that Ryan was safe and the bogeyman was reduced to a quivering wreck the atmosphere changed. Apart from Hunter and Ryan everyone else was relaxed. It was all I could do not to break into a giggling fit.

Jim reached my side and held his hands out for Ryan.

‘If you fancy having a kick at his nuts, I don’t think any of these officers will stop you,’ he grinned, relief pinking his face.

‘I think the burning feeling on his face will be sufficient for now,’ I answered.

We all clustered round the squealing Hunter and watched him as, on his knees, he feverishly splashed himself with water.

‘I need medical help,’ he shouted. Stopped splashing to look at all of us in turn. ‘Somebody help me.’

Jim pretended to reach for his zip. ‘I heard that urine was a good treatment for jellyfish stings. Do you want it straight from the pipe, Hunter?’

M
y mother was a rock during the few days leading up to the funeral service. From her spirit and energy no one could tell that she was about to stand by her son’s side as he buried his second wife. She did everything: got in touch with the funeral director, arranged the flowers, spoke with the priest.

Jim’s confession and Ryan’s abduction meant that my feelings of grief for Anna’s death had been pushed to the far side of my thoughts, but now that everyone was safe, they forced themselves onto centre stage.

The boys clung to me like limpets that following week. I even had to leave the door open whenever I went to the toilet, such was there distress when they couldn’t find me in the very moment they sought me.

Ryan asked for his mother several times over the next few days, then learned not to as each request was met with downcast faces. Bedtime was the worst. Ryan always preferred his mother’s touch just before he went to sleep.

On the day of the service I debated whether Ryan should go, but my mother argued that he should be allowed to say goodbye to his mother. I couldn’t disagree with her. If he became distracted and noisy, then she would take him outside.

One should never discount a child’s sensitivity. Ryan behaved beautifully. He held my right hand through the service, while Pat held the other. He looked at the faces long with grief around him and was hushed by the emotion evident in everyone’s stance.

Death touches us all, particularly when it leeches life from one as young as Anna: particularly when it brings violence along by the hand. The church was full. People who worked with her, people who
knew her only briefly, people who’d never set eyes upon her until they’d picked up a newspaper, they were all there to express their sadness.

The priest’s eulogy was short and for this I was grateful. I couldn’t have listened to someone speaking about Anna, filling in the holes of their knowledge of her with generalisations.

At the graveside people offered their hand in condolence. Each one I accepted with royal patience when I would have rather screamed at them: leave me alone. There’s me, my boys and my grief. Leave us be. I wanted to look over Anna’s short, sad life and pick at it like a fisherman would examine his nets. Perhaps in the picking there would be a mending and I could make some sense of it all.

More hands, more lips pressed against my cold cheek.

Leave me be.

I said nothing. I permitted a smile to curve the ends of my bloodless lips and continued to acknowledge the mourners. I could feel a tear like a salt pendant hanging in the corner of my eye, waiting for the moment when I would let it sail.

Two men stood away to the right, heads bowed. I didn’t recognise them. The thought occurred to me that they might be from Anna’s family. I sent them a message of hate; they were the start of all of this. People around the two men moved off and I could see that they were both wearing council uniforms.

They were simply waiting to shovel the earth over the coffin. This was just another day to them and I envied them their sense of distance.

Ryan and Pat were standing just off to my left with Mum and Jim. Cold had begun its journey through the veins in my feet, the muscle and tendon of my legs, the flesh in my groin, but I would not let it journey any closer to my heart. If life had robbed these boys of a mother each, I would not let it take their father. I believed then and I believe now that it is not what happens to you that determines your happiness, but how you react to what happens to you. I had a choice and right there and then, I chose joy.

It was difficult to find, but standing there on that graveside I found joy in Anna’s existence. The night before she died I’d caught a glimpse under the hard carapace. I’d been granted a reminder of what the real Anna Boyd was like. The real Anna who had been buried under the thick shield of her defences. The Anna that the boys would celebrate with a happy and fulfilled existence.

I thought about what Hunter said as he held a knife to Ryan’s neck. Anna had goaded him into killing her. Anna would certainly have known what Ken Hunter was capable of. He was one of the first people she met when she first came to the town. She had at one stage worked with his wife, Sheila. She was a master of manipulation. Had she hand-picked him for the role? Had she orchestrated the whole thing? She would have known that Hunter was insanely jealous. Did she deliberately provoke him? Until he grabbed a knife, granting her wish for release.

I had tucked away Hunter’s accusation that he was Ryan’s father. That was surely just part of Anna’s efforts at manipulation. Kids are always born early, aren’t they? Two weeks was nothing. No. Ryan was mine and I wouldn’t allow any other possibility.

I considered her last act as a mother. The phone call. It was nobody, she’d said. Repeated it. But by offering the boys to me she knew they would be safe. Safe from any damage that Hunter could inflict on them. They would also be safe from the psychological damage of hearing her screams.

I shook my head as if trying to rid my head of these terrible imaginings. Was all of this just me looking for some sense in the chaos?

The funeral crowd was beginning to disperse. People returning to their homes, to heat themselves with the gratitude that it wasn’t their wife, their partner or their child who had just been described as ashes and dust.

I spotted Sheila with a number of my bank colleagues. As she was getting into a car she turned to look for me. The distance faded and I could see the affection in her eyes as she caught sight of me. My heart flipped. There was something between us. Those beautiful eyes
did not read only of sympathy, there was a world of caring there too. I hoped she would have patience enough to wait for me, my boys would have my full attention until I was sure they could cope with their mother’s loss.

Jim walked towards me, Ryan perched on his right arm, Pat walking at his side, holding on to his left hand.

‘Right, Dad, let’s go and get these boys something to eat.’ In his own fashion he was reminding me that I had two very good reasons to live. It was completely unnecessary but I loved him for it.

W
e looked a strange sight in our sombre clothes, Jim, Mum, the boys and I as we trooped into McDonalds. In this moment I craved the normality of it, the reminder that no matter how sharp my grief was now, it would fade. It also gave me the chance to see the boys smile, perhaps hear them laugh with the pleasure of receiving a new toy.

We ordered and I carried a tray of questionable calories over to a table. Everyone sat down and, as if this was any other day, they tucked into the burgers, chicken and fries. As the boys played a pantomime out on the table with their new plastic characters, the last words I heard Anna say sounded in my ear.

‘Boys…’

They turned to me, the distraction having worked for the moment. Their eyes were bright, their attentions successfully shifted from the sadness around them. The bogeyman was locked up and would never bother them again.

‘Did I tell you that your mother loved you both very much?’