‘You’re a sick bastard.’
She drove the blade into his eyeball. Grady screamed.
And then she raised the scalpel again …
SIXTY-EIGHT
‘You’re wrong.’
‘No.’ Clara shakes her head. ‘You’ve changed. A lot. But I spent a lifetime wondering what happened to Merry Lane. And suddenly, there you were. Your picture in the newspaper: “Vicar with Blood on her Hands”. Appropriate, don’t you think?’
I don’t bite. ‘You persuaded Brian to ask Bishop Gordon to offer me the job here.’
‘I wasn’t sure you’d do it. I was surprised when you accepted. And then I got angry. That you could just waltz back here, guilt-free.’
‘You left the exorcism kit, the Bible, the Burning Girls. You sent those letters –’
She nods. ‘The case and Bible were amongst Fletcher’s things. He must have found them in the vault, where Marsh hid them with Benjamin’s body.’
‘Why, Clara? After all this time?’
‘I could ask you the same thing. Why come back?’
I hesitate, and then I say: ‘Because of Joy. I thought I might finally have a chance to find out what happened to her.’
‘And I thought I’d finally have a chance to make you pay for what you did to Benjamin.’
‘Benjamin Grady was a paedophile and an abuser. He deserved to die. Joy didn’t.’
Clara smiles another of her chill smiles. ‘We can both find ways to justify our actions. But ultimately, we’re both killers.’
It occurs to me that I could grab her. Pull her off balance. It wouldn’t take much to yank her down into the darkness. To leave her to die there. Like Joy.
Then our eyes meet. And I know she’s thinking the same thing.
‘How do you live with yourself?’
‘The same way you do, I imagine.’
We stare at each other. I take a step forward … and drop the tape down the well.
‘Merry’s dead. And you can go to hell, Clara.’
And then I turn and walk away.
For the last time.
SIXTY-NINE
‘I’ll be sad to see you go.’
I smile at Joan across the kitchen table. ‘I’ll miss you too.’
‘We haven’t had this much excitement here for years.’
‘I imagine the police investigation will continue for a while. There’s still a lot to work out.’
Not least, who killed Grady.
‘I doubt they’ll ever get to the truth of it.’
‘I’m sorry – I know you were hoping for answers.’
She reaches for her sherry. ‘Don’t be. When you get to my age, you understand there are more unanswered questions in life than not. The best you can hope for is a resolution you can live with. And at least I know the truth about Matthew.’
‘How are the Harpers coping?’
‘Emma has moved back to her mother’s with Poppy for a while. Simon is still finding it hard to believe Rosie’s guilt. All of this, it’s broken him.’
I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
‘We all try to do our best for our family,’ I say.
‘And do you think this move will be best for you and Flo?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Do you think you’ll come back?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, don’t leave it so long next time.’
I stare at her. She smiles and pats my hand. ‘I don’t need all the answers.’
SEVENTY
What kind of woman am I?
I would like to answer that at heart I am a good woman, a woman who has tried to make the best of her life, to help others, to spread kindness.
But I am also a woman who has lied, stolen and killed.
We all have the capability to do evil. And most of us could find a reason to justify it. I don’t believe that people are simply born ‘bad’. Nurture trumps nature. However, I do believe that some of us are born with a greater potential to do wrong. Perhaps something genetic, when combined with environment, produces monsters. Like Grady. Like Wrigley.
Like me?
Do I feel guilt for the lives I have taken, the lies I have told? Does it keep me awake at night? Sometimes. But not often. Does that make me a psychopath? Or a survivor?
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. Jack stares back. It’s not that difficult to get a new identity. An old name from a gravestone. Begging and stealing until I could afford to pay for some good forged documents. Escaping a place is not enough. You need to escape yourself. You need to leave everything behind, including those you love. Like my brother.
I never intended to go into the church. But some of what I told Mike is true. I did meet a priest. Blake. A good man. He helped me understand that I could make a difference. Make amends. He also made me realize that the best place to hide is in plain sight. People don’t look past a clerical collar. And if they do, they are still blinded by their presumptions.
I unclip the collar now and slip it into my pocket. Then I reach into my shirt and lift out the cheap silver chain that I always wear. For over thirty years. Dangling from it, a slightly tarnished letter J.
Because best friends swap things: mix tapes, clothes, jewellery.
I hold on to the necklace for just a moment, then I grasp it between my fingers and yank it off. I drop it down the sink and run the tap until it’s washed away.
The toilet flushes from the cubicle behind me. I tuck my hair behind my ears, shorter now, the roots touched up. I step back and smile. Then I push open the door and step back into the throng of the airport.
Mike and Flo are sitting at a table in a busy café. Mike insisted upon driving us here. He’s been around quite a bit since that night at the chapel. I’ll miss him. But I’ll also be glad to say goodbye. Sometimes, when he looks at me, I feel he’s almost on the verge of saying something. Something that wouldn’t be good. For me. Or him.
‘Hey,’ Mike says as I approach. ‘Okay?’
‘Yeah. Good.’
‘I’m just going to get another coffee,’ Flo says. ‘Want one?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
She walks off to join the queue at the counter.
‘So,’ Mike says. ‘Feeling nervous about Australia?’
‘Yeah – mostly about how I’ll pay off the credit card.’
‘You deserve this.’
‘Thanks. But it’s only for a month. To check a few places out.’
Maybe.
‘I meant to ask,’ I say. ‘Did the police ever find the person who pulled me from the chapel?’
‘No. I mean, nobody came forward.’
‘Right.’
‘And if they were injured – they’d have showed up at hospital, right?’
‘Right.’ I smile quickly. ‘Maybe I imagined it.’
‘It was a traumatic night.’
‘Yes.’
But I didn’t imagine it. I know it was him. Jacob. My brother. He found me again. He saved me. And he’s still out there, somewhere.
‘Here we go. Two Americanos.’ Flo dumps two coffees on the table. ‘I got double shots, so that should see us through half the journey to Oz.’