Lying in Wait(51)

‘And what about murderers? Are they beneath us?’

I would have loved to have explained to Laurence that his father was not just a common murderer, that he had merely made a mistake under pressure and that the girl was of no consequence. If she had lived, she would have made no contribution to the world. Her family were obviously layabouts too, if the father was on the dole. Of course I am not saying that she didn’t deserve to live, I’m not saying that at all, but who really missed her?

‘Laurence, whatever happened, you must remember that your father was a good man. I’m sure it was a silly accident that led to the death. I very much doubt that your father would ever have gone with a prostitute. He just wasn’t the type, and he loved me, you know he did. You must not think of him as a murderer. Who knows what type of trouble that girl was involved in? Wasn’t she a heroin addict? Heroin is a terrible, terrible drug. It is quite possible that your father was trying to help her. He often helped people but he kept his charity work very quiet. I’m sure he was only trying to help her when she died, perhaps of an overdose, and to avoid a scandal he just buried her here.’

Laurence sat looking at me. I know he was thinking that I was in denial, I know he didn’t believe a word I was saying, but I also knew that he would go along with it for my sake.

‘But this girl Karen, Annie’s sister, she’s not giving up, Mum. She’s going to find out. And she is so –’

‘You must find a way to stop her.’

‘Bridget has said that we will help her.’

‘Well then, you’re in the perfect position to find false information and throw her off course.’

‘Mum!’

I raised my voice in anger. It is something I do very seldom. ‘Laurence. I am trying to protect you. If this gets out, you will go to jail.’

He shut up then, realizing I was right. I used softer tones.

‘Darling, let us think about this. Annie Doyle has been missing for nearly six years?’

‘Five and a half. Yes.’

‘But there is absolutely no proof she is dead?’

‘Not that I know of, but one of the guards thought that Dad –’

‘Never mind about that. Did she have a bank account or a post office savings account, do you know?’

‘I don’t know. Why?’

‘Because we can bring her back to life. Send the mother a letter from her.’

‘What?’

Even as I said the words, an idea was forming. Annie was not dead. Perhaps she decided to clean up her life and get off drugs and move away where nobody would know her, start afresh. She was living a normal life down the country but did not want to be contacted and reminded of her old life. It was alarmingly simple. When Laurence calmed down enough, he saw the wisdom of the idea, although he said it was cruel. Not as cruel as what Annie Doyle had done to us.

‘But, Laurie, won’t it be so much better for them to think that she is alive? It will be such a huge relief to them. We will be giving them back their daughter. It’s an act of mercy. She will write to them.’

I changed my mind about Laurence befriending the Doyles. Keep your enemies close, isn’t that what they say? I encouraged him to engage with them, gain their trust, find out as much as he could about Annie before we put our plan into action, and in the meantime he could feed them misinformation. He had already agreed to look up death notices in the Irish Times office for the weeks after 14 November 1980. He could conveniently omit Andrew’s name from the list of his findings. He should take control of Karen’s investigation, be sympathetic, but not too enthusiastic. Perhaps he could pretend to develop a personal interest in Karen.

But he seemed uncomfortable at the suggestion.

‘I can’t do that. She’s Bridget’s friend. And Bridget keeps asking me when she’s going to meet you, and when I’m going to Athlone to meet her parents.’

‘Athlone? God help us.’ And then it struck me. ‘Actually, I think you should go. You can post the Annie letter from there! Athlone is perfect – a letter posted from there could have originated anywhere. It’s slap bang in the middle of the country.’

He winced at this. I was terribly excited. This was a project that Laurence and I could work on together. It could only bring us closer.

Over the next few weeks, Laurence and Bridget and Karen met up regularly to go over all the information she had about Annie. I encouraged Laurence to bring home whatever he could so that we could combine our wits to decide how best to use it. As I suspected, Annie had no savings accounts in which money might have remained untouched if she was dead. There was no proof at all that she hadn’t picked up her life and moved away. We had to make it look like she’d gone in a hurry. One of the most crucial things Laurence brought home was an old diary in her appalling, childlike, semi-literate handwriting. I could see Annie had entered the payments from Andrew, which she listed under J, presumably for Judge. The little bitch had probably known all along who he was. Karen had entrusted the diary to Laurence so that he could check out the addresses and phone numbers. There was a letter in it to a child that she gave up for adoption, and when I saw that, I lost any sympathy I might have had for her. She had been pregnant before, by accident. She knew Andrew and I were desperate and willing to pay for a baby, and she had already given one away. What a truly pathetic creature she was.