‘Are the two of you alone?’
‘No, there are others here.’
‘And where is here?’
‘We’re on the strand at Sandymount. The tide is coming in. My seven-year-old legs wobble, feet sinking into the sand, seaweed between my toes. In my arms I hold a doll, with curly blonde hair and sea-blue eyes.’
‘Breathe easy, Clodagh.’
‘It is neither night nor day; the light is white, sparse, as if, like memory, it can be whisked away …’
‘Keep going, Clodagh.’
‘A cold breeze batters my face, exploding into my ears. I see my
father. Against the sea and the sky he stands, trouser legs rolled up, chalk-white skin. He is smiling at me, the centre of my canvas. I wonder about his voice. I try to hear him, even a whisper, but I hear nothing. I scream, the wind cutting out the sound, swallowing my sobs.’
‘Try to slow down. Why are you screaming, Clodagh?’ Gerard’s voice remains calm.
‘I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know. That he’ll leave us, my mother, Dominic and me. I want to run out to him, but someone’s stopping me. They’re holding me back.’
‘Can you look up, Clodagh? Can you see who’s holding you back?’
‘My father turns away from me, looking into the ocean. He has his back to me as the ice-cold water eats his feet …’
‘Clodagh, listen to me. You need to look up. You need to tell me who is holding you back.’
‘Kate, when you say he isn’t capable of waiting a protracted interval, what kind of time frame are you talking about – days, hours?’
‘The gap between the Jenkins and Gahan murders was less than three days. The first murder took place in the early hours of Saturday morning, with Gahan’s killing late Monday night. He’s already allowed a lengthier timeframe to elapse. My guess is he won’t wait much longer. If it’s a form of psychosis, the progression will be gaining momentum as each day passes. He might have been capable of managing the second murder with reasonable efficiency, but as time moves on, the level of his anxiety will heighten, and the disintegration of his personality will continue, as will his grossly distorted thoughts. Once the first killing occurred, everything would have changed for him. Things will have accelerated. It’s impossible to say how long, other than that the time will be short, within days, I would imagine, and maybe even hours.’
‘Kate, can you hold on? I’ve a call coming in. Don’t go away.’
Kate bit her lip as she waited.
O’Connor was soon back. ‘Something’s come in on the house-to-house.’
‘What?’
‘Once you narrowed down the geographical reference, we extended the parameters to include the neighbourhood around the Hamilton and McKay households. One of Martin McKay’s neighbours mentioned a car arriving home at unusual hours of the morning.’
‘When?’
‘Over the last few days. Martin McKay’s name is also on the list of the 2010 Volvo S60 owners.’
‘Do you have enough to get a search warrant?’
‘I think so, but the concept of reasonable grounds depends on which judge is sitting. Matthews has it in train.’
‘What about a search warrant for Dominic Hamilton’s house?’
‘You know how these things work, Kate. If we get anything useful back from the first location, it will help us move the search further out.’
‘Where are Clodagh and Martin McKay now?’
‘I’ve sent a reconnaissance team to the McKay and Hamilton houses along with the one I’ve sent to McKay’s office. Right now, McKay isn’t in either location, but that’s not unusual. He often has business meetings outside the office. Neighbours say they saw him leave the house earlier today. Clodagh McKay also went out this morning, some time after the husband. With the recon team in place, if either of the McKays or Dominic Hamilton shows up, we’ll know about it.’
‘O’Connor, it’s imperative that I talk to Valerie Hamilton and Clodagh McKay. I need to assess the mental state of both men, and there’s no better way than talking to those closest to them.’
‘As I promised, Kate, as soon as I hang up, I’ll get Lynch to ring you with Valerie Hamilton’s number. Clodagh McKay isn’t answering her phone, but you’ll get that number too. If there are any issues with them agreeing to talk to you, let me know.’
‘Okay.’
‘Right now my priority is pulling both men in. You can do all the psychoanalysis you want on them. I doubt you’ll have any problem with Valerie Hamilton, now that her husband has gone AWOL. Having said that, I don’t want you making private visits to any of the locations, not until the recon teams have established all the risks involved.’
‘O’Connor, I want to be kept in the loop.’
‘You will be.’
I know Gerard wants me to look up, but my younger self is resisting. She’s frightened. Her feet are sinking further into the sand, as if they’re being swallowed by the seaweed. The smell of the sea is getting stronger, the sound of seagulls squawking overhead. I’m not sure if she will look up, but then she does, and I can see with her eyes.
There’s no denying the face or her expression. It’s a look of accusation. ‘Gerard, I can see who’s holding me back.’
‘Who is it, Clodagh?’
‘It’s my mother.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. She’s looking down at me. It isn’t a nice look, or a loving one. I think she hates me. Her eyes move from me to my father, as he walks further away. The further he walks, the smaller he becomes, just like a figure from my doll’s house.’
‘Clodagh, you’re crying. Remember, at all times you’re safe. This is simply a memory.’
I feel my mind drifting, as if it’s trying hard to stop me staying on the strand. As if I need to get as far away from there as soon as I can. It is then I begin to fall again, and a part of me is wondering – Will I ever stop?
‘Clodagh, are you okay?’
‘No.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m falling. My mind is falling but …’
‘But what, Clodagh?’
‘I think I’m back at home.’
‘At the house in Sandymount?’
‘Yes. I’m with my father.’
‘What are you doing, Clodagh?’
‘I’m looking outside my bedroom. My eyes are fixed on the landing light. I see my reflection in the landing mirror. My eyes look like dolls’ eyes, as if they’re made of glass, rolling inside my head. My father is standing in the darkness at the back of their bedroom.’
‘Your mum and dad’s room?’
‘Yes. My little-girl self is there. She’s walking over to him, slowly, but with determination. She looks older than her years. He bends down, allows my little-girl self to whisper something in his ear.’
‘What did she whisper?’ Again Gerard’s voice is calm.
‘I don’t know.’ I feel agitated. ‘I can’t hear what she’s saying. Gerard, I can’t hear her.’ My voice is rising. More than anything I want to know what she’s telling him. I can see his face change, anger replacing softness. My little-girl self pulls away from him as he stands upright again, leaving the room.
‘What’s happening, Clodagh?’
‘We’re alone, my little-girl self and I.’
‘You can ask her what she told him. The answer is there, Clodagh.’
I walk closer to her. Her eyes are now like the glass eyes of a doll. ‘What did you tell him? What did you whisper in his ear?’
At first I think she isn’t going to say anything, as if she’s trying to make up her mind whether she should trust me. It’s then that my voice changes again, to her voice, and I hear my younger self saying, ‘I told you, the dolls know. Go ask Debbie.’
I look around the room for her.
‘What’s happening, Clodagh?’ I hear Gerard ask.
‘I’m looking for Debbie.’
‘Is she there?’
‘I see her now. She’s standing at the door, blocking my way out. She’s laughing, and her hair is cropped.’
‘ARE YOU CURIOUS, CLODAGH?’ She laughs again.
‘What did I tell him?’
‘You told him Dominic knows a big secret about Mummy.’
My body starts convulsing in the chair. I feel as if I’m caught in a nightmare. My mind is going around in circles, so many questions without answers.
‘Clodagh, breathe deeply. I want you to concentrate on your breathing. Slow it down. As you notice it slowing, you will begin to relax. Can you try that?’ Gerard’s steady voice feels calming.
‘I think so.’ I can still sense my anxiety, but when I do as Gerard asks, it seems as though I’m putting a wall between me and the fear of not knowing what will happen next.
‘Clodagh, do you want me to bring you back?’ Gerard’s voice is a constant, a safety net, my tentative link to the present.
‘No. I think I’m okay. I need to keep going.’ This time it’s my voice I hear, not that of my younger self. She is drifting, moving further away from me, but then she turns again, looking at me. She’s waving, telling me to follow her.
‘Clodagh, what’s happening now?’
‘We’re going somewhere else, and there are loud voices, adult voices, noise coming from downstairs, and all the lights are on. It’s late. I’m not supposed to be up. There are lots of people in the house.’ I’m talking fast, as if I need to get all the words out quickly. ‘The little girl is taking me across the landing, to Dominic’s bedroom. Somebody’s in there. I’m holding Emma under my arm. I mean, my little-girl self is holding her. She’s my doll with the cracked face. Emma’s hair is dangling upside down.’
‘Who is in Dominic’s room, Clodagh?’
‘It’s dark. It’s hard to make them out, but there are things falling to the floor. The drum set in the corner is making a loud clanging noise – something’s crashed against it. I can hear a man’s voice. He’s saying, ‘For fuck sake.’ My little-girl self is crying – low whimpers, like she’s in pain. They don’t see her.’
‘Who doesn’t see her, Clodagh?’
‘My mother and a man, but I can’t see his face. It’s in the shadows.’
‘Try, Clodagh, keep looking. Who do you see?’
‘I don’t know. I told you, I can’t make him out.’
‘Do you know his name?’
‘He’s hurting her. He’s hurting my mother. She’s trying to fight him off, but it’s no use. He’s too strong for her. My little-girl self is screaming, her mouth opening wide, but there’s no sound coming out, as if she’s lost her voice, and she can’t move away.’
‘Clodagh.’ Gerard’s voice is raised for the first time.
I don’t answer him.
‘Clodagh, you must answer me, or I’ll have to bring you back.’
‘He’s …’
‘He’s what?’
‘He’s attacking my mother. I can’t help her. I can’t do anything. The little girl …’
‘What about the little girl, Clodagh?’
‘She can’t stay, she’s too frightened, but she has no one to run to. She doesn’t know where Dominic is. He’s the only one she can talk to. She can’t tell Daddy – he isn’t there. He and Mum had a big fight.’
‘Look around you, Clodagh. I want you to take in as much as you can about what you see.’
I do as he asks. Then I say, ‘There’s something else.’
‘What is it?’
‘There’s a tiny strip of light. It’s coming from the attic room, up the stairs from Dominic’s bedroom. The light is coming from under the door. It’s like a torchbeam the way it moves. He must be up there.’
‘Who is up there?’
‘Dominic. He hides up there when he wants to be away from everybody. The same way I do when I play with my dolls.’
‘Clodagh, do you recognise the man in the room with your mother?’
‘I think so, but it’s very dark. I can’t be sure. He has the face that always stays in the shadows, but …’
‘But what?’
‘I can’t explain it.’ I sound scared. I breathe in deeply.
‘You’re doing great, Clodagh. Keep your breathing steady. None of what you see can harm you. Remember, it all happened in the past. Try to tell me what your younger self is afraid of.’
‘It’s not only what I’m seeing, Gerard.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘It’s the way he makes me feel.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘He frightened me before. He has scared my little-girl self. He isn’t a nice man.’
‘How do you know this, Clodagh?’
‘I just do.’
‘Clodagh, I want you to go back to when he first scared you.’
I say nothing, my mind caught between the memories.
‘Clodagh, can you hear me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m at my friend’s birthday party, the one where I wore the purple taffeta dress, with the silver beads on the collar.’
‘Is your mother there?’
‘Yes, she is, and so is he.’
‘Why does he scare you?’
‘I don’t like him.’
‘Why don’t you like him, Clodagh?’
‘His voice is creepy. Sometimes it’s loud and …’
‘And what, Clodagh?’
‘It’s as if I know he can get angry at any moment. His hands are ugly, chunky, like hairy-bear hands. He’s talking to Mum, but I don’t look up at him. I stay close to my mother. Sometimes he clenches his hands tight into fists. Other times, his hands touch her. I don’t like him touching her.’ My voice is loud and angry. I roar, ‘And–I–don’t– like–the–way–he–makes–me–feel.’
‘How does he make you feel, Clodagh?’
‘Horrible. He makes me feel dirty.’
‘Are you ready to come back, Clodagh?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Clodagh, I’m bringing you back. I want you to close your eyes. I’ll start counting backwards from two hundred, and you will walk towards the staircase, the one that will bring you back to the garden, a place that is peaceful and safe, and soon you will be in this room.’
When I open my eyes again, I can see Gerard. Tears are streaming down my face.
‘Are you okay, Clodagh?’
I don’t answer. My mind is still caught between the present and the past. I can still remember the man. How he made me feel afraid. And that night, in the dark, in Dominic’s old bedroom, not being able to help my mother.
‘Clodagh, it’s over now. You’re back. You’re safe.’
‘Gerard.’ I can taste my tears, salty on my tongue. ‘I remember being in the bedroom,’ my voice sounds desperate, ‘the one where my mother was attacked.’
‘What about it, Clodagh?’ His voice is soft.
‘Dominic was there too. He was upstairs in the attic room. He knows about these things. I know he does.’