‘That day, you waited for me on a bike ride,’ I say. ‘When Susie and Gloria rode off. Do you remember that day? He hit you for that, didn’t he?’ My mouth’s dry. Looking back, I can picture the intensity of Mr Hart’s wrath, and the limp, blank acquiescence of Finlay as he was pulled indoors.
I could easily cry but I fight it, I don’t want to, I don’t want to turn this into Finlay having to comfort me.
‘Yes, but that wasn’t because I stayed with you. If I’d left you, the thrashing would’ve been for that. He constructed no-win scenarios for me. Like I said, when he wanted to do it, he always found cause.’
I nod. ‘I see.’ Except I don’t, not at all.
‘Aged thirteen, having not been belted for a while, I found the courage to tell my mum what had been going on. But my dad had established this narrative that I was malign, I was disruptive. If you demonise a child, they tend to get a bit demonic, making it easier and easier. He was clever enough an abuser to have discredited me. I could do no right, Susie could do no wrong, that was always how it was. So straight away, my mother said I was lying, that it was a disgusting thing to say about my father, and how dare I. She actually said: “This is typical of you.”’
‘She really didn’t believe you?’
‘No, I think she did. I’m not going to let her off the hook and say she thought it wasn’t true. I think she probably knew, instinctively, it was. My mum liked our social status, she liked our house, the holidays. My mum valued appearances. Look at how the affair was handled. I bet Susie never told you about that?’
I shake my head.
‘Yep. We had it drummed into us that you do not talk about the family skeletons. It getting out that my dad was violently assaulting his young son would’ve torn it all down. When I said he’d been viciously beating me for years, either he had to be thrown overboard, or I did. It was a straight choice. My mum chose my dad.’
I get a hard, sharp pain under my ribs.
‘Did he hit Susie?’
Fin shakes his head.
‘Never, that I know of, nor my mum. I think I would’ve known. Doted on Susie. Whatever psychological fault line that I opened up, she didn’t. I’ve asked myself many times, if Iain Hart had two daughters, would he have ever laid a finger on his offspring? Who knows. Maybe a different son would’ve got different. Maybe he just hated me.’
‘It’s not your fault. Whatsoever,’ I say.
‘I know,’ Fin says, clasping my hand again, and squeezing. ‘Took some time, and a change of continent, a spot of rehab and a fair-sized therapy bill, but I know.’
‘Fuck,’ I say. ‘All this time. You being spoken of as this terrible person …’
‘Susie didn’t lie to you,’ Fin turns to look at me. ‘I don’t want you to blame her. I always tell clients not to use the word “damaged”, but I was, Eve. Through my teens, I made it very clear I wanted nothing more than to be the fuck out of the family home as soon as I could. Susie saw a lot of shit behaviour from me as we got older. I played it out exclusively at home, because I was smart enough to know school was my launchpad for getting out of here. Like my dear dad, I too knew to keep it behind closed doors.’
‘Did you never try to tell her what had gone on?’
‘Yes, once. As a punishment, he locked us in a wardrobe. We were very little. That was the one time I saw him go ballistic on Susie too. She was hyperventilating that she was going to run out of air, it was horrible. That was why I didn’t want her to be buried.’
I know Fin isn’t trying to score a point, but I feel this anyway.
‘I thought that sadism might be the shred of proof I needed for her to believe me.
‘We were in the pub, not long before I left for London, I took a very deep breath and said Dad had abused me. She shrugged it off. Come on Finlay, don’t dramatise it with the A word. You were a total bastard to him too and you know you were. I remember your arguments. Remember when you nicked his credit card. Or trashed his spirits cabinet. You got smacked a few times? Well Dad’s old-school, isn’t he, he still thinks you can do that. Yes, he would think he could do that to a boy in a different way. Especially a tearaway hoodlum like you. It was like watching stones bounce off shatter-proof glass.
‘She was seventeen and I was nineteen and I’d left it too late. Susie’s opinion of her upbringing wasn’t going to change in one conversation. Her view of her father wasn’t going to shift to accommodate it. As she made clear, I wasn’t a sympathetic victim. I know what she meant.’
‘It’s not your fault if no one would listen,’ I say, slightly hoarse.
‘I’ve had a lot of time to think about what happened between myself and Susie. You know how, if you’re late to meet someone – at first the person waiting for you is confused, then they’re pissed off. They get worried. Your task when it comes to an explanation and apology when you do turn up gets bigger, with each passing minute. Eventually they give up, and they leave. They’re not waiting for you any more. That was my relationship with Susie. By the time I was ready to talk and tell her why I’d been such a destructive, miserable bastard, she’d gone. I’d kept her waiting too long for her to have any interest or faith in what I was going to say. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have tried harder. I wish I had. I wondered if her diaries had any hint in there that she knew, that she ever thought back on that conversation about Dad, and rethought.’
‘That was why you wanted them?’
‘Yes.’
He has to know. He can’t think he’s told me all this, and I still wouldn’t hand them over.
‘Fuck, Fin. I destroyed them. Before Edinburgh. I was angry at Susie and you were pushing, and thought I should do something definitive. You were right. I had no right, or idea what I was interfering with. Fuck, I’m so sorry …’
I find I’m not even scared of Fin’s reaction, I’m too disgusted and shocked at myself, before that can crowd in. I want him to bollock me, I deserve it.
‘Hey, it’s alright,’ Fin says, evenly, ‘I’d changed my mind anyway. It was an impulse, in the first wave of grief, knowing I’d never get to ask her. I don’t think I should’ve read her diaries.’ He pauses. ‘My behaviour towards you, over that – that was you getting a taste of the displaced anger that Susie got inured to.’
‘Susie would’ve sided with you, if she’d known what I do,’ I say, with conviction. ‘It would’ve been tough to absorb but she’d have got there. She hated bullies. Remember the shoes story, in her eulogy?’
‘I hope you’re right. Getting to know you has helped bring her back to me. I almost feel like it’s Susie, from the afterlife, gloating – see, Finlay?! I’d misjudged, too.’
‘Haha, why?’
‘I thought she was an arrogant princess who, compared to me, had played life on the easy setting. My dad’s divide and conquer had worked. But she’d kept you as a best friend, that tells me she was always the little sister I remember. Boisterous, bloody cantankerous when thwarted, but funny as hell and heart in the right place.’
‘That’s a good Susie summary,’ I say, with the uneven, gasping tone of someone who’s breaking up crying, my sight blurred.