The Girl Who Lied(93)

Please know, Kerry, that you are my son and always will be. You may not think of me as your mother any more and that is something I will have to live with. I may have got it wrong. Really wrong, but I have never stopped loving you.

I love you. Always have, always will.

Mum xx

This time Kerry picks up the letter and reads it himself. I watch him closely, but don’t say anything. He shuts his eyes tight, holding his thumb and finger against the closed lids. He takes a big gulp of air and when he opens his eyes, he is crying. I hold him in my arms, not saying a word.

Eventually, he pulls away, palming his eyes and face to wipe away the tears.

‘God, would you look at me?’ he says.

‘It’s okay. You’ve had nine years of pent-up emotion and feelings. It needed to come out sooner or later.’

Kerry looks at the letter, which has been crumpled. He flattens it out on the table.

‘She’s actually sorry,’ he says. ‘She says so here.’

‘That’s a good start,’ I say gently.

‘You know, I always thought she didn’t want me because Tom didn’t like me. I thought that’s why she chose him over me, but it wasn’t that at all. She chose Ronan. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to grow up with his dad. She knew how bad it had been for me since my dad died.’

‘She did what she thought was best for her child at the time,’ I say. I’m aware of the similarity to my decision-making. ‘She never stopped loving you, though.’

Kerry nods. ‘She was sacrificing her relationship with me for what was best for Ronan. Who can blame her? Like she says, I was seventeen and probably wouldn’t have stayed around for much longer anyway. Ronan was so young. She had no choice but to put him first. I still wish she hadn’t said what she did. That’s the thing that has stuck with me all this time.’

‘It was a mistake. She says that herself. It’s the one thing she wishes she could go back and change. We are all wiser after the event, aren’t we?’

‘I need time to take this all in,’ says Kerry. He leans back on the sofa and looks up to the ceiling.

I lean back too and slip my arm around him. ‘How do you feel about seeing her? Talking to her?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe. I need time to get used to the idea,’ says Kerry. ‘That’s some bridge that needs building.’

‘The bigger the bridge, the bigger the reward,’ I say, thinking of my dad.





PART 3


‘Forgiveness says you are given another chance to make a new beginning.’

Desmond Tutu





Chapter 32


The next morning Mum is surprised to see me at the hospital so early, but I explain that Kerry is standing in for me so I can be here.

‘He has the day off,’ I say. ‘Means I could get here sooner.’

She looks at me, as if seeing me in a different way to what she has before.

‘I want to be here,’ I say. ‘There are things I need to put right.’

Mum swallows hard and I can see her eyes shine with the first hint of tears. ‘You must do whatever you need to do,’ she says, placing her hand on my cheek. ‘That’s what we do as women, mothers and daughters.’

Her words are spoken with such sincerity and intensity. I’m sure she’s trying to tell me something indirectly. I wonder again how much she knows. What secrets she is keeping.

‘Mum?’ I begin. I want to ask her about the key to the safe and what happened the night Dad fell. But the moment is lost as Dad gives a groan and his legs rustle against the starched bed sheets.

We both turn to look at him. Mum is saying his name and takes his hand in hers, a gesture she has done every time I’ve been here.

‘Jim? Hello, Jim. It’s me, Marie. Can you hear me?’

I position myself on the other side of the bed. His eyes are heavy. I can see he’s fighting to keep them open. He frowns as he tries to focus on Mum. His lips are dry and cracked. He moves his mouth as if he’s chewing a piece of food.

‘Do you want a drink, Dad?’ I ask. I pour some water into what is essentially a beaker for grown-ups. It has a lid and an extended spout so the patient can drink from it without having to sit up fully. Dad’s probably wondering what the hell I am doing there. He looks at the cup and I offer it to him, placing the spout in his mouth and ever so slightly tipping it. He swallows the water and, like a baby, sucks on the spout for more.

I exchange a look with my mum. Is she wondering the same as me about any long-term damage he has suffered? After the third sip of water he turns his head away. I take this as a good sign. He clearly knows when he’s thirsty, that water quenches his thirst and when he’s had enough.