Red Ribbons (23 page)

He could hear mumbling from the neighbours, more prominent during times of his silent solitude. Pressing the play button on the music centre, the sound of early-morning birdsong filled the room. With the curtains pulled, he felt content in the dark. Sunlight was for outdoor pursuits, now he needed everything to slow down.

The cherry-red ribbon was still inside his jeans pocket. Lying back on the bed, he removed it and let it run through his fingers before placing it on the bedside locker. He would be back at Cronly soon, where he could put it away safely. As he closed his eyes, he thought about his battered attaché case underneath the old metal-framed bed in the big house, a suitcase that had travelled with him to Suvereto when he was twelve years old. He remembered feeling excited about the trip and thought about the boyhood stickers he had applied to the case so diligently, most of which were still intact. It was always a treat opening the attaché case, just like the drawers in the old sideboard, with all its treasures. To him, everything in it, from the dull to the glittering, meant something, providing a window to the past.

He would need to buy another crucifix to replace the one he’d
given Caroline. Amelia’s one had gone missing long before, another tell-tale sign of her inadequacy. They weren’t expensive, so he didn’t mind.

Caroline had been such a sweet girl. He had told her how the crucifix would keep her safe. She liked the idea. She was even wearing it the afternoon he picked her up for their trip to Cronly. He was glad he was going back there soon. He wanted to look at the photographs of Caroline again, now that they were all he had left of her. They were at the bottom of the attaché case, taken with his Polaroid camera, the one he had bought to replace the now-broken one he had received on his eleventh birthday.

He’d been on a high when the two of them had left Dublin, telling Caroline how important she was, how special. She had been taken aback at first, upset. That had been quite disconcerting, not at all what he had expected. She was concerned, obviously, but he had told her there was no need to fret. He would look after everything.

She hadn’t liked the house. He could see that from the beginning, the way her eyes had peered all around her, the rest of her body still. He’d put so much time and effort into taking her there, only for her to let him down. He knew it had been difficult for her to understand. Of course, he hadn’t let her response deter him. After all, if there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his determination and resolve.

Like Amelia, he had put her at her ease, explained everything would work out once she remained calm. All she needed to do was trust him. She did trust him. She’d told him she did when he’d asked her. A girl with such appreciation of emotion understands these things very well. Even when she’d cried, he hadn’t lost heart. His thoughts and feelings had been tested in the past, but he had never faltered. She must have felt a chill, shaking the way she did. He had even lit a small fire to ward off the old house’s draughts and made her cocoa, but instead of drinking it she’d just sat there, her face red and puffy, her eyes wild. The more upset she’d got, the more he’d started to question
if he’d been right to take her there in the first place. The last thing he’d wanted was for her to think badly of him or, even worse, think he was one of those lowlifes who sought out innocent young girls for their own enjoyment.

If only she had understood. He had tried to explain things – but the more he’d explained, the more melodramatic she’d become, and the distress became so unsettling to him. He had no illusions about Amelia, but Caroline had been different. He’d had such high hopes for her. But in the end, it seemed, she had wanted to spoil everything too. What choice had he – the way she ran to the door like that? He’d had to stop her. Uncanny the way the hands on the Napoleon clock had struck six when she’d gone quiet, a straight line pointing north and south, cutting the white clock-face in two.

It was when she’d stopped that she’d been at her most beautiful. He’d already had the red ribbons in his pocket as a surprise for her, just like before. She hadn’t minded him plaiting her hair then. In fact, he’d got the sense of her smiling while he’d done it, and this had pleased him more than anything. When her body had hardened, he’d needed to fix her – she wouldn’t have felt anything at that point, her peaceful expression had remained constant throughout.

He regretted taking her to Cronly. It was wrong of him. The size of the house, not having told her about it, must have frightened her. More than most, he understood how someone so young could be in awe of such a strange place. But she’d had to be stopped once she’d started screaming. The second blow to the head had produced such a profusion of blood, but he was sure she hadn’t felt anything after that.

In his bedroom, the gentle sound of birdsong and the darkness eased his body and mind. What he regretted most of all was that he hadn’t had the chance to take Caroline to his hideout, down by the wonderful elderberry trees.

DR EBBS IS LOOKING AT ME LIKE I’M A COMPLICATED puzzle he needs to solve. His elbows are resting on the desk, the fingers of his hands joined at the fingertips. There is a smudge on his glasses, and I have the strangest urge to take them from the end of his nose and clean them. Maybe my mind is playing tricks, drifting from the past to the here and now. I could get up and leave, tell him I no longer want to answer his questions. It wouldn’t be a lie. Re-living everything brings a clarity that has a habit of making tiny moments last forever.

‘You were undoubtedly in shock, Ellie. Perhaps at the time, when you were asked about how you found her, your shock prevented you giving the information correctly?’

‘Maybe.’

‘But later, why didn’t you mention it then – the ribbons, the way you found Amy? I find it incredible that no one asked you before this, or if they did and you’ve forgotten, that this is the first time it has fully come to light.’

‘Maybe I had my reasons for not clarifying things. Maybe I still do.’

‘You lost your daughter, Ellie. It must have been difficult.’

‘“Difficult” – that’s a handy word. Yes, difficult. It was difficult to accept my daughter was dead, it was even more
difficult
to know her killer was still out there.’

‘Had you ever spoken to this man?’

‘No, but I saw him.’

‘When?’

‘Soon after we arrived.’

‘At the caravan park in Wexford?’

‘Yes, near the beach.’

My mind drifts again to the road at the back of the sand dunes, the wild grasses, the smell of recently cut hay, a dirt track opening to a clearing.

‘And you said this to the police at the time?’

‘Yes. As I said, no one listened.’

‘I’m listening now.’

‘It’s not important now, not any more.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘Death has a way of focusing the mind, Dr Ebbs. My world fell apart, but I learned one thing fast.’

‘And what was that?’

‘The truth.’

‘The truth?’

‘Yes. Amy was dead, and the reason for it was clear. It wasn’t just leaving her that night, the night she was killed, it was the fact that I’d been missing all the time beforehand. I failed her, Dr Ebbs.’

‘You blamed yourself?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’ He ignores this. I must learn to take a leaf out of his book.

‘It must be hard, Dr Ebbs, to put yourself in the shoes of a mad person.’

‘I don’t think you’re mad, Ellie.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I think you could be quite sane, which in many ways, if what you say is true, makes this a whole lot worse.’

‘I’m not asking you to believe me.’

He sighs. ‘Perhaps we should finish for today, Ellie.’

‘Have you ever felt lost, Dr Ebbs? The kind of lost that stops you wanting to be found.’

‘No, Ellie, I can’t say I have.’

‘You’re lucky.’

‘I guess I am.’

‘When I found Amy, in a weird way she looked more beautiful than ever. Uncanny really, how calm I was. I even shocked myself.’ I manage to smile at this. ‘I sat talking to her, you know, stupid things, like how much she loved school, how kind she was. I didn’t say anything about being sorry, letting her down, none of that. We both knew, you see, without words. I tried to remember the last time I’d looked at her properly, made eye contact. I’d forgotten how lovely she was. How can a mother forget such things? I undid the red ribbons in her hair, they didn’t belong to her, brushed her hair out, and all the time while I was doing it, I knew.

‘Knew what?’

‘That losing her meant that nothing else mattered.’

‘You had no inclination to tell Joe what had happened?’

‘No.’

‘I find that surprising.’

‘We were beyond words, Joe and I, even from before I found Amy.’

‘So you decided to set fire to the caravan?’

‘Yes. I waited until Joe left. He had no idea she was dead. I let him think everything was as it should be. It was better that way.’

‘But when you were taken from the fire, what did you tell him then?’

‘Nothing. Not at first. He thought the worst, they all did. Words seemed pointless.’

‘And the man, did you tell Joe about him?’

‘Eventually.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing. Like the others, he’d already made up his mind.’

‘And this man you think killed Amy?’

‘What about him?’

‘You can’t be completely sure he killed her?’

‘No, but when I found her, I remembered things, things I should have paid more attention to.’

‘Like what?’

‘She said she thought he was real clever, just like me. I paid no attention to it. As I said, I guess I thought he was just one of the kids at the holiday park.’

‘That hardly makes him a killer.’

‘No. But I’d seen her with him. I mean, I didn’t know for sure it was him, but I’d seen him twice.’

‘And you didn’t think it strange? Unusual?’

‘Well no, not the first time. I figured he was one of the dads. I didn’t know his name. The first time I saw them, Amy was petting his cat.’

‘And the second time?’

‘The second time she was heading for the beach. She had just come off the pathway at the back of the sand dunes, the place she tried to show me once. I could tell they had been talking. She waved goodbye to him. I did think it odd. I mean, a grown man taking time to talk to a young girl. I’d meant to say something to her. I’d definitely meant to ask her about him. Tell her to be careful.’

‘And?’

‘I never got a chance, or never made one, I guess.’ Again my voice lowers.

‘And these things make you think he was the killer?’

‘You don’t believe me either,’ I snap back.

He ignores my last remark.

‘This man, could you recognise him now?’

‘I don’t know. It was a long time ago. But sometimes I’m surprised by what I remember and by what I forget.’

‘Shock can be indiscriminate, Ellie. It affects everyone differently.’

‘Do you know what I think about when I think about back then? I think about how numb I felt – shocked, as you say. I thought there could be nothing worse than finding Amy the way I did. Then
afterwards, when the real pain came, when the shock finally wore off, I wished I could have the shock back again, for what followed, Dr Ebbs, was a whole lot worse.’

‘Ellie, do you realise the importance of what you’re saying?’

‘Dr Ebbs, don’t you get it?’

‘What?’

‘None of it matters.’

‘But you’re saying you’re innocent of the very thing that brought you here.’

‘I didn’t use the word innocent. I was never that. All the time we were in Wexford, I left her vulnerable. I wasn’t brought here because of what happened. I was brought here because they thought I was mad. Don’t waste your time, Dr Ebbs, the life I have now is my life. I’ve learned to accept it, that’s all.’

‘Ellie, why did you tell me all of this if it’s of no consequence?’

‘Lately, I’ve started to feel different. The change scares me.’

‘Change can be a good thing.’

‘It won’t bring her back.’

‘No it won’t, but at least you are talking about it.’

‘Talk is cheap.’

‘It can be, but not this time I don’t think.’

He hands me a plastic cup of water from the dispenser over by the window.

‘Ellie, you said about the ribbons, the ribbons in her hair, that when you found her, they didn’t look the way Amy would wear them, that the ribbons weren’t hers.’

He walks back to his desk and rummages through the file. He takes out an old photograph of me and Amy.

‘You said that when you found her, her hair was in plaits.’

‘Yes.’

‘But they looked different.’

‘They were tied with perfect red bows.’

My head throbs. I want the ground to swallow me up. I look into the plastic cup filled with water and I can see the sea, puddles building up in the sand, the past swirling around my feet like quicksand. That familiar sinking feeling, knowing this time if I go down, I might never get back up again.

Dr Ebbs picks up the copybook and rereads the words. He seems distant, as if his frame is closing in on me. Small details overlap each other, his shape appears loose, his voice farther away. I try to get him back into focus, but it’s like I’m wearing glasses that no longer suit my eyes. Everything around me darkens. I put my head in my hands, and the pain begins to settle. It takes all my strength to look back up.

‘The fire, Dr Ebbs.’

‘What about the fire, Ellie?’

I’m back there again, being dragged out, the cracking of the windows, the flames as they roared, the stench of rubber, and then that smell, the one I least expected.

‘I had not expected it.’

‘Had not expected what?’

‘The smell of burned flesh, Dr Ebbs, I had not expected that.’

‘Ellie, I’m so sorry.’

He unlocks the bottom drawer in his desk and gives me two white tablets, gesturing for me to drink my water again. I swallow both straight down.

I trust him. I now have two people in this hospital to trust. He waits. I can’t tell how long it is before I raise my head and finally look at him.