No Kiss Goodbye (29 page)

‘Okay,’ Nigel says as all the anger melts from his face. He rests both his hands on the table beside me and leans the weight of his body into his arms.

‘Our son, Lorcan, was five when he died.’

‘Your son?’ I stutter.

‘Shut the fuck up and let me speak,’ Nigel commands.

I don’t argue.

‘And there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. I’ll never get to watch him grow up. I know it’s not your fault, but I hate you for taking him from me.’

‘Your son,’ I say again; I haven’t heard anything after he said the word son.

‘What? Did you think he was yours?’ Nigel snaps sarcastically.

I stand silent and still.

‘Oh Christ, you did,’ Nicole says stepping forward with her hand over her mouth. ‘You really thought he was your child, didn’t you?’

I still don’t reply. They are twisting everything, and I don’t know what to think.

‘I got pregnant just a couple of years after we finished college, Laura. Don’t you remember? You were the first person I told.’ Nicole speaks softly now, almost whispering. ‘You’ve known Lorcan since before he was born.’

I don’t move. I don’t even blink. I won’t let them see that they’re getting to me. They’re messing with my head. It’s so easy for them. Entertaining even.

‘But you let the news slip to my brother here,’ Nigel points at Mark as if I don’t know who my own husband is. It was infuriating. ‘And, as they say, my life was never the same again.’

‘Of course, I remember,’ I snap, frustrated. I’m not lying to humour them. I really do remember a little boy hugging me tightly and telling me I’m the best aunt in the whole-wide world. I remember his bright eyes just like his mother's and his charming personality like his father.

‘You smell nice,’ he’d tell me every day. I haven’t changed my perfume in five years because I never wanted to stop hearing those sweet words. I longed to hear him say them now. I miss him terribly, how could I ever have forgotten. Guilt and heartbreak choke me. I can barely breathe. Nigel and Nicole's eyes burn into me.

‘Of course, I fucking remember.’ My hands moved to my head and I rub hard.

‘You know Lorcan is our son.’ Nigel points at Nicole. ‘Our son.’

‘Yes,’ I bark.

‘Because no one could ever forget their own child, Laura, could they? No one could forget their own.’

‘That’s enough,’ Mark says angrily. Those are the first words Mark has spoken in hours. ‘She doesn’t need to hear this.’

‘Yes, I do.’ I appreciate Mark trying to protect me, but it’s too late. ‘Please, Nigel…go on.’

Nigel coughs and clears his throat. ‘Nicole and I loved him so much. He was our whole world. When he died, we realised that he was the only thing we had in common. I lost my wife three months after I lost my son. By the time I worked up the balls to beg her to take me back, she had fallen for someone else. She’s happy and I’m not going to mess it up for her.’

Nigel looks at Mark as he spoke. I don’t miss the innuendo.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, disappointed by how pathetic the words sounded. I wish there was a better way to express my genuine regret.

Nigel shrugs. ‘I thought about wrapping myself up in a little bubble of lies like you, but I’m not as convincing as you are,’ he says, temper draining from his words and sadness takes its place.

‘Nigel, she has apologised. There’s nothing more she can do. She’s not a liar,’ Mark says.

‘Not a liar?’ Nigel mimicked. ‘She’s going around telling everyone how much she loves two kids who don’t exist. That’s a fucking lie in my book!’

I scream, and I don’t stop. Not even when Mark covers my mouth and whispers, ‘Shh,’ over and over again in my ear. Suddenly, all the jigsaw pieces slammed together in my mind. I could see the bigger picture, and it was a masterpiece of deceit. 

It’s a seriously elaborate scam. I had to give them credit. For a while, they almost had me convinced I was going crazy. They’ve certainly done their homework. They knew what to suggest and how to suggest it. I’m the stupid fool who believed them.

I may be naïve and have fallen for a lot of their crap, but how did they ever think they would convince me to forget my kids?
No amount of drugs in the world could wipe the memory of their precious faces from my mind. If I wasn’t so terrified of their next move, I’d laugh in their faces at their foolish attempt.

‘Where are my kids?’ I shout even though my voice is muffled as it tries to pass through Mark’s fingers. I was suddenly horribly aware of their safety. ‘I want to see them now.’

‘There are no kids.’ Mark can hardly speak he’s crying so hard.

‘You can cut out the acting now. I’ve figured out your crappy plan. It won’t work.’

‘There are
no
kids, Laura,’ Mark repeats as if I will accept it a second time around.

‘You can have your slut,’ I scream and point at Nicole who weeps irritatingly. ‘But you can’t have my kids. GIVE ME BACK MY BABIES.’

‘We lost our baby, Laura. The doctors did everything they could, but they couldn’t stop the bleeding; the seat belt had just caused too much damage. They had to perform an emergency hysterectomy. We can’t ever have children.’ Mark stops abruptly. It’s almost as if he knows that just by saying it out loud, he’s hammering a stake through my heart.

I race to the windowsill looking for my phone. Mark catches me by my waist and pulls me back. I drop the phone. I yelp loudly as I dive on the ground to retrieve it, clasping it so tightly my knuckles whiten.

‘What are you doing?’ Mark asks twitching.

His nervous approach gives me a sense of comfort. I guess the pressure is too much for him. I hope he’ll crumble and their plan will unravel.

‘Using the phone, what do you think?’ I bark.

‘Who are you calling?’

‘Ava,’ I snap, although I quickly make a mental note to be more polite. I stare at the three angry faces glaring at me and the full gravity of my vulnerability was reinforced.

‘Laura, stop this nonsense. Ava is dead, for God’s sake. She died in the crash. You are the only one who survived. It’s a miracle that you weren’t hurt.’

‘Weren’t hurt?’ I snort. ‘I had to learn to walk again, you prick. I spent weeks in the hospital. Don’t you think that hurt?’

‘You weren’t hurt in the crash, Laura. The only thing that was hurt was your mind. Anything that happened to you, you did to yourself. You’re ill. Please let me help you. I just want to help you.’ Mark reaches his hand out to me, but I slap it away. I covered my ears with my hands and sing, ‘La, la, la, la, la,’ at the top of my lungs.

Mark grabs my hands and pulls them close to him. He shakes me roughly until I stop.

‘If you want to call someone, call Adam. He’ll tell you that she’s gone.’

‘I’m sure with your skill you could have easily twisted Adam into your sick little web. He already hates me; it wouldn’t take much to convince him to help you.’

‘He doesn’t hate you.’ Mark softens. ‘He’s just looking for someone to blame.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I snap. ‘Adam is a womaniser and a scumbag. If he’s lost Ava, then it’s because he deserved it.’

‘Don’t say that, Laura. No one deserves that. He lost just as much as you have. All the drinking and women are his way of coping. He idolised Ava and his son.’

‘Bullshit,’ I bellow, clenching my back teeth together so hard my jaw ached. ‘She hasn’t even had the baby yet. I want to speak to her. She is the only one I trust.’

‘AVA IS DEAD!’ Mark roars – his cheeks as red as two ripe cherries and tiny bloodshot threads creep into his eyes.

I decide he’s losing the battle to convince me, and it’s infuriating him.

Suddenly, a horrible realisation hits me like the slap of a wet tea towel in the face. Mark sounded incredibly convincing when he said Ava was dead. They wouldn’t actually hurt Ava, would they? None of this is her fault.
Christ.

‘This isn’t working, man,’ Nigel says as he offers me a chair at the table.

I gratefully accept. Although I turn it at a right angle before I sit. I wouldn’t dare turn my back on any of the three.

‘We can’t keep this up,’ Nigel adds staring at Mark and willing him to agree.

‘He’s right,’ Nicole agrees. ‘It’s not working, Mark. Surely you must know that by now.’

A tiny smirk creeps out from the fearful frown cemented on my face. They’re finally accepting that they’ve lost. Unless they want another corpse on their hands, they have to give me back my children. If they don’t, then I will go to the police. I have evidence now; they will have to investigate this time. I pat my jeans pocket where the fabricated newspaper article is stuffed.

The three of them huddle together like haggard, old witches around a cauldron. They seem to speak in a code and I don’t understand. Their strange choice of phrase and waving hand gestures confuse me. I decipher only a minuscule amount of information from their chanting. However, I do notice Nigel and Nicole praise Mark often for his diligence and effort. Clearly, my husband is the ringleader. Nicole is a mere accomplice. That realisation hurts like a blunt blade pirouetting inside my chest.

‘You can stall all you want to, but you’ll never get rid of me without my children. I won’t stop screaming until I see them. You’ll have to kill me first.’ I will myself to shut up and stop encouraging them.
How stupid could I be?

I stare blankly at Nigel wondering where he fits into the sordid romance. He’s a spare part like me only he’s too docile to see it. I decide to educate him.

‘You poor, stupid fool,’ I say pointing my shaking finger so close to his face I can feel his breath on my hand. ‘You’re next. If they pulled this crap to get rid of me, then they’re not going to wait long before they want you gone, too.’ A sadistic ‘Ha!’ sprays from my lips at the end of the profound sentence.

Nigel simply rolls his eyes.
Asshole.

‘I want my kids
now.
Now…now…now!’ I scream.

Mark says something about the noise upsetting the neighbours.
Good.
At least then someone will come around to investigate and their plan will be ruined. His attempts to silence me only inspire me to shout louder.

‘Okay,’ Nigel says dragging Mark away from me. ‘We’ll go and get the kids, but you need to be as good as your word and calm down.’

I scowl. ‘Fine.’

‘Nicole will wait with you,’ he adds sternly, clearly unprepared to hear an argument from either of us.

Nicole’s disapproval of Nigel’s master plan is written all over her face, but she doesn’t protest. She simply slides to the ground, tucks her knees against her chest, and rests her head on top. The front door slams, and Nicole and I are alone. After twenty or so long minutes of staring at the top of her scalp, I give up and sit in silence beside her on the floor. Time ticks by in slow motion.

‘It’s true,’ Nicole stutters breaking the stillness of the room.

I ignore her.

‘You didn’t go to New York to live the American dream. You were running away from the Irish nightmare.’

I shut my eyes and try to block out the sound of her voice.

‘When you ran away from the hospital, no one knew where you were. Mark was beside himself with worry.’

‘I’m sure he had you to look after him,’ I growl.

‘Your doctor warned that you may have been a danger to yourself. Then Nigel got a phone call from that hotel we all worked in our last summer in college. They said you had turned up there looking for him.’

‘He lives in the hotel. I saw the penthouse. What are you talking about?’

I don’t want to give Nicole the satisfaction of asking questions, but I’m curious where she’s taking her outlandish tale.

‘He’s renting a nice two-bed in Queens, Laura. It’s not the fucking Plaza.’

I crawl to the far side of the room and curl up in a small ball. I can’t bear to be near her. I can’t listen to any more lies. Nicole is as good a player as the guys; I can see that now. Mark obviously has her well trained.

Nigel and Mark are gone at least a couple of hours, and as soon as Nicole hears the front door creak open, she leaps from the floor and races into the hall where she flings her arms around Mark’s neck and kisses his cheek.

I scramble to my feet in her shadow and race towards the door with my arms stretched wide. I can’t contain the euphoric excitement I feel at seeing my babies again. But somewhere along the way, I feel like my heart has fallen out the sole of my shoe and been trampled into the ground.

There’s no sign of the kids. Instead, Dr. Hammond stands on the open porch. He’s wearing the same cold and unforgiving glare that I’ve learned to hate.

‘I think you should come with me,’ Dr. Hammond calmly suggests reaching his hand out for me to hold.

I smack it away with all my strength almost knocking him over.

‘Where are the kids?’ I ask as I watch Nigel reach out to the doctor to help him regain his balance.

‘What kids?’ Dr. Hammond asks.

‘My kids,’ I screech. I don’t know if his question is genuine and he doesn’t know my children are missing, or if he’s playing the same sick game as the others.