Beautiful Child (8 page)

‘I’m not.’ said Sara. ‘I’m just throwing out ideas from what we know. At the moment he is all we know.’

‘But why would he want to kill her?’

‘I’m not saying he would, Tim.’ said Sara. ‘I’m just saying it’s possible.’

Sara walked through into the lounge with it’s two low brown leather sofas. There was an alcove either side of the old fireplace that had been bricked in and a gas fire was attached to the wall. There was a flat screen television sat on a free standing unit just under the window and there was a multi-coloured rug in the middle of the floor to break up the monotony of a plain beige carpet. It all reminded Sara of her Aunt’s house in Leigh.

‘So there was no sign of a forced entry?’

‘No.’ said Tim. ‘The kitchen was the only room that had been disturbed.’

‘So this wasn’t part of any burglary that went wrong?’

‘It doesn’t seem like it, no.’

‘He came to kill her,’ said Sara, ‘he came specifically to kill Rita Makin.’

‘So far it certainly looks that way,’ said Tim. ‘Look, Sara, I know this is not a good time…’

‘…but?’

‘ I need to speak to you about something’ said Tim. ‘It can’t wait, I’m afraid.’

‘Well here is not the best place,’ said Sara. ‘Come and see me after the team meeting tomorrow. Am I going to like it?’

‘Well it’s not about you and me if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘There is no you and me.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Sara, ‘and whatever the problem is I’ll do my best. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ said Tim, ‘Thanks.’

The house was at the end of a row of terraces which had made it easier to be cordoned off. Sara looked up and saw that one of the uniformed officers outside was having a conversation with a priest who was looking anxiously towards the house. Sara went out to speak to him.

‘Father?’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m DCI Sara Hoyland.’

‘Brendan O’ Farrell’

‘I take it you knew Rita Makin?’ The poor man looked utterly crestfallen. They must’ve been close.

‘Yes,’ said Brendan. ‘I’m here about this terrible business.’

‘Were you Rita Makin’s parish priest, Father?’ Sara asked.

‘Yes’ said Brendan, barely able to hold back the tears. He held out his arm and Sara linked hers with it. ‘I’m sorry’ he said, ‘you must think I’m a stupid old man.’

‘On the contrary, father,’ said Sara, ‘you’re clearly very upset.’

‘Rita and I were very good friends who went back a long, long way.’

‘Do you have any idea who might’ve done this to her?’ asked Sara.

Brendan looked at her as if he was utterly bewildered at her question. ‘No’ he said, emphatically. ‘Rita could never have harmed anyone. She was kind, she had a good heart. She lived for her family. I’m sure that if I pray to God for the rest of my days I’ll never understand it. It’s beyond all reason.’

*

Natasha was over the moon now that Charles had finally popped the question. Of course she hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. Things were beginning to work out just as she wanted them to but there was some way to go before she’d managed to completely shape his life her way. There were a number of items on her list but one thing at a time. When she joined the airline a few years ago and discovered pilots who earned the kind of money that could well service her idea of a meal ticket, she’d gone all out to get herself one. But it hadn’t quite worked out. She’d never met one who’d been willing to fall victim to her charms. One had even accused her of being a gold-digging slag. Well she’d decided that maybe these men and their flying machines were too clever for their own good so she’d hit the pubs and wine bars of Cheshire and that’s where she’d met Charles one summer Friday night.

Some pilots were in her Wilmslow social circle and even though she no longer needed to look for a suitable husband she kept them in her social circle because they were the right kind of professional types she wanted to be surrounded by. Her job in flying also meant that she had to be away for several days at a time and that meant having to find a pilot to treat her like his special girl for the trip. She needed the attention of well off men. But her games were no longer motivated by the serious need to search for the right one. She wouldn’t ever be unfaithful to her Charles. Not when he could provide her with so much. There was a moral line to be drawn after all and he was a poor darling having to stay at home whilst she was away. At least it gave him time to be with his kids. That was the only fly in the ointment as far as her relationship with Charles was concerned. She had no desire to be step-mother to his boys and quite frankly if she could wipe them out of the picture she would.

As they sat across from each other at the breakfast table she held her hand out in front of her that had been adorned by Charles’s engagement ring.

‘It’s beautiful, darling. Thank you so much.’

‘It looks fantastic on you, I must admit,’ Charles gushed.

Natasha leaned over the breakfast table and gave him a kiss. ‘I’m such a lucky girl.’

‘Well don’t flash your ring too much in front of Matt,’ said Charles, ‘he’s got a real thing about what are called blood diamonds.’

‘Blood diamonds?’

‘Diamonds that are mined in poor African countries with the proceeds used to buy weapons that kill innocent people in civil wars.’

‘And what’s that got to do with me exactly?’

‘Matt thinks it’s immoral for anybody to buy a ring with a diamond in it that could’ve been mined under those circumstances’ said Charles. ‘But I liked the ring so much and knew how fantastic it would look on you that I just went ahead and bought it without asking the guy in the jewellers anything about where the diamond had come from.’

Natasha stroked Charles’s hand. ‘Darling, I really couldn’t care less about where anything comes from or who makes it or any of that kind of stuff. I just like what I like and that includes this gorgeous ring and you. So don’t go concerning your handsome head about anything other than me.’

Charles kissed her and she wiped a crumb from the corner of his mouth before buttering him another slice of toast and handing it to him.

‘And as for your friend Matt he can keep his bleeding heart to himself,’ Natasha went on.

‘Now don’t be like that, darling,’ said Charles.

‘Like what?’

‘Matt is my best mate,’ said Charles.

‘Yes, I know but I’m your baby girl.’

‘And it’s important to me that the two of you get along’ said Charles. ‘Matt has always cared about stuff. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about him.’

‘Yes, well, there are those that care and those who employ accountants to get out of paying tax. I’m glad to say that we’ll be falling into the latter category.’

‘It wouldn’t do for us all to be the same, darling,’ said Charles.

‘Yes, quite,’ said Natasha who now wanted to move things on to a matter she’d been wanting to target since she and Charles had got serious. ‘Anyway darling, we need to sort out our finances before we’re married.’

‘Our finances?’

‘Well yes,’ she said as she scooped the last drop of yogurt out of the container with her spoon. ‘I know a lawyer. He lives down the road here. He specialises in re-negotiating divorce settlements.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Well don’t look so surprised, darling’ said Natasha. ‘Wendy has got away with it for far too long.’

‘Got away with what?’

‘Sponging off you,’ said Natasha, ‘she doesn’t go to work.’

‘She used to before she had the children.’

‘And so she can go back again,’ said Natasha, ‘and that house is far too big for her and the children. You’ve said so yourself.’

‘Yes but without any intention of doing anything about it, Natasha.’

‘Even so,’ said Natasha, ‘now that I’m around to fight your corner, the former Mrs. Baxter has got something of a shock coming. You’re paying two mortgages after all.’

‘And I can well afford it.’

‘That’s not the point, darling,’ said Natasha. ‘I really think you’ve let her get away with emotional blackmail for too long, Charles.’

‘She’s never emotionally blackmailed me’ said Charles, nervous about where all this was going. ‘She’s always been very reasonable. More reasonable than I deserved and I pay two mortgages to keep a roof over my children’s heads and so their mother can take care of them.’

‘Oh’ said Natasha, ‘so what I want doesn’t matter?’

‘I didn’t say that, darling…’

‘…I should hope not, darling. I should certainly hope not.’ 

*

Brendan had moved one of the armchairs in the sitting room into the space provided by the open French window and sat there in the semi-darkness smoking a cigarette. He’d had one on the go almost constantly since he’d heard about Rita’s horrific death. It was almost nine o’clock and the summer evening air had grown heavy as if a storm might be approaching. It would never be like this once he’d retired and moved to County Clare. The fresh power of the Atlantic Ocean always kept the air clean and that pleased him. He’d never been one for the heat. He’d once gone out to Zambia to see a friend who was a missionary out there and the heat had almost finished him off. He liked the temperature to be warm enough to be able to walk around in shirt sleeves but not so bad that just the placing of one foot in front of the other brought him out in a sweat. And he didn’t have the skin for tanning. Too many Irish freckles, the skin too white, the hair now too grey. If it hadn’t been suitable before it certainly was never going to be now.

Brendan and Rita had been almost the same age. He’d first met her when her daughter Michelle was only tiny and he’d been there for her throughout all the ups and downs of her marriage to George. He’d ministered to George too. Brendan knew that Rita was no saint and that their problems, just like any other married couple’s, were often a case of six of one and half a dozen of another. But Rita was different. Rita had been a true and valued friend, someone he’d come to concur with on many issues.

He looked up when Phillip came into the room. ‘Sorry’ he said, holding up his cigarette. ‘I know I shouldn’t, Phillip, but I’m relying on your Christian charity.’

‘Don’t worry, Brendan’ said Phillip as he held up the bottle of scotch in his hands. ‘I don’t mind if you don’t.’

Brendan smiled before getting up and, assisted by Phillip, he moved the armchair back into the room and sat down. Phillip sat on the sofa beside him.

‘Then let’s indulge each other in our respective vices,’ said Brendan.

‘You’ll be in trouble in the morning when Ann Schofield comes in and smells the smoke,’ Phillip teased as he poured himself some scotch.

‘Yes, well I’ve got more on my mind than a telling off from Ann.’

‘Who could’ve done such a wicked thing to Rita Makin?.’

‘I shudder at the thought of what happened to her,’ said Brendan. ‘I can barely imagine her going through such evil.’

‘We must pray too for the perpetrator,’ said Phillip. ‘We mustn’t forget that.’

‘Yes, well I’ll let you do that,’ said Brendan. ‘I’m about to hang up my collar. I’ve been as good a priest as I could’ve been these decades. I think I’ll be forgiven if I don’t pray for the soul of someone who took the life of one of my best friends, Phillip. It’s a challenge to my faith that I’m unable to meet just now.’

‘What would you like to see happen, Brendan?’

‘I’d like to see them catch the bastard and throw away the key.’

‘You’d been taken to the other side of the world, Paddy, and you were still a child whose mother had abandoned you,’ said Angela as she sat with Paddy during another session at the prison. She was beginning to appreciate just how to handle him. If she pushed him too much he’d close up and ask to go back to his cell which would be a pity seeing as they were making great progress. He seemed more tense than usual this morning. Maybe recalling his past was taking more out of him than he’d thought it would. He certainly looked like he hadn’t had much sleep. ‘I need you to tell me how that felt because I can’t imagine.’

‘You had good parents?’

Angela felt a little guilty answering that one. ‘Well yes I did.’

‘They loved you? Cared for you? Made sure you had everything you needed?’

‘Yes, Paddy.’ said Angela, ‘They did.’

‘Remind me to ask you one day what that feels like’ said Paddy as he looked down and shuffled his feet around on the floor. ‘I’d like to know.’

Angela smiled, out of sadness instead of joy. ‘I will, but back to you now.’

Paddy shifted in his seat. ‘It was called the Brothers of St. Peter Home for Boys although the definition of home had become a bit twisted in all their shit. Anyway, it was in North Sydney, New South Wales in Australia and it had taken me the best part of two months to get there. I remember there was this big iron gate at the head of the short drive to the house itself that had a padlock and chains all around it. Life had turned on me and I’d done nothing to deserve it. It was supposed to be the lucky country. That’s what they called Australia back then but I felt anything but lucky, doc.’

‘Hardly surprising.’

‘But that was only the first home I was taken to,’ said Paddy. Then he laughed lightly. ‘You could call it the reception class. Anyway, I actually grew up at another home further north on the edge of the city. It was on top of a hill and overlooked the ocean…’

1963

Sean had never wanted to see another ship again after he’d gotten off the one that had brought him to the other side of the world after nearly two months at sea. At first during the voyage he held himself tightly and didn’t speak to anyone. But gradually the noise and the chatter of the other children made him open up and by the time they reached Australia he’d made several friends. None of them had known what had happened to their Mums or Dads. Some had been told by the Nuns that their parents were dead and some had been told that their parents simply didn’t want them anymore and that they should be grateful to the church for taking care of them. But the fact was that all of them needed each other to hang onto. They had nobody else in the world and they’d been brought to this strange land where people spoke with funny accents and they’d been told not to go into the woods because of all the snakes.

But what Sean was getting used to was people coming into his life one minute and being gone the next. None of the girls on the ship had been brought to the first children’s home he’d gone to and only a handful of the other boys had gone there too. They were fed. They were given drinks of water. Then they were beaten every night. Then when he was moved to this home and the years rolled by, the monks would come along with their straps and lash the palms of their hands as a warning against masturbation when they went to bed. They were getting into being ‘that age’ they were told and the almighty God working through the Catholic church considered masturbation to be a sin. The fact that many of the boys didn’t know what masturbation was didn’t matter. They had to be brutally warned against doing it.

Then one night it had all changed. Not for the other boys but for Sean. Brother Michael had come to Sean’s bed and asked if he was alright. Shaking and terrified he answered that he was. Then Brother Michael slid his hand under the blanket and placed it on Sean’s private parts. Sean froze. He felt something happening and he didn’t know what to do. Then Brother Michael told him to quietly get out of his bed and come along to his study with him. When he got there Brother Michael made him lie down beside him under another blanket. He didn’t dare say a word as Brother Michael told him exactly what to do.

‘Do you want to carry on, Paddy?’ asked Angela, breaking a silence that had fallen onto the room.

‘What’s that?’ asked Paddy. It was almost as if he’d been in a trance. Angela’s voice had carried him out of it.

‘I was asking if you wanted to carry on? We can pick it up next time if you like?’

‘Sorry, doc,’ said Paddy. ‘I’m going back into a place inside my head that’s so dark… but no, I do want to carry on. If I break now I’ll never get started again.’

‘Okay,’ she said, softly. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

1969

Sean developed a way of using his ‘special’ times with Brother Michael as a means of maintaining a quiet life. Nobody bothered him. He was never lashed for anything which was a blessing in itself considering that some of the boys were lashed to within an inch of their lives just for trying to hold their own. There was a dungeon in the home and nobody who ever went in there came out without having to be supported just to stand up.

But something else was puzzling him more than the daily brutality of life in the home. Why wasn’t anyone coming for them? They’d been told on the ship time and time again that families all over Australia were just waiting to take them in and give them good homes. But if that was the case then where were they? True enough many of the boys had gone but many still remained to work as slaves for the brothers and other sections of the church. Some were hired out to local farms and Sean thought they had it best. At least they came into contact with men who didn’t want to stick it up them. But then again, being around normal people for eight hours made it seem even worse when they came back to their abnormal life at the end of the day and some of the farmers didn’t treat the boys much better than the brothers did.

Sean spent hours just watching local school kids of his own age walking along; laughing, talking, joking and fooling with each other. He wondered what they’d done that was so right and what he’d done that was so wrong. They had Mums and Dads to take care of them. All he had was a man in a gown who pounded his arse every night.

The boys never went to the beach like all the local kids. They didn’t have television sets at the home. They didn’t have bicycles to ride or board games to play. The hours were long, especially at the weekends and during the holidays but absolute obedience always had to be maintained. Their birthdays were never noticed. Christmas Day was never more than one long church service where the boys were expected to be thankful for what they’d got. They were never touched unless it was to abuse. Nobody ever told them that they loved them. When they reached their teenage years like Sean had all they were told was that nobody was ever going to come now and they’d better get used to it. It was too late because they were too old. They’d have to work through their time until the church kicked them out and told them to fend for themselves. 

‘And yet, doc, inside I was shouting and screaming. I had a Mum! She’d left me at the home that day but maybe if they checked she might’ve changed her mind. They acted as if my life had only started the day she left me at the home back here in England. I had to erase everything about before then.’

‘Which is another reason why you’ve left it all out of the book?

‘Yes,’ said Paddy. ‘I’d gotten so used to doing that.’

‘Blanking out the happiness.’

‘Yeah,’ said Paddy. ‘That puts it perfectly. But then again, doc, this was the sixties. Everybody was supposed to be feeling free. Men were landing on the moon but I’d had my life ripped away from me and nobody bloody cared about my feelings. I was surrounded by priests who saw me as nothing more than an arse to fuck. Every day was relentless. It was like being in a long dark tunnel with no sign of light at the end of it. It was hard, doc. It was so fucking hard I can’t tell you and that’s why those bastards who say I shouldn’t profit from getting my story out are wrong, doc. I’m owed, doc! I’m fucking well owed the fucking world!’

Paddy then put his head in his hands and wept.  

Angela went back to the prison the next afternoon at the request of Paddy who said he wanted to keep on talking. Before she got there she spent some time researching. The children’s home he’d been sent to as a boy had long since closed down. The church it had been attached to was still there though and she was planning to go and speak to someone who might be able to shed some light on the church’s former policy of sending children to Australia. She’d looked it all up on the internet and been able to find out a lot of ‘facts.’ But now she wanted to add the ‘personal.’

‘So how are you today, Paddy?’

Paddy looked mischievously at her. ‘Aw, you know, doc’ he said ‘I keep up my walks in the park, I go down to that little Italian near the docks because I really like the way they make their lasagne, oh and I think I might go up to Scotland for the weekend.’

Angela smiled shrewdly at him. ‘It’s only the bars inside that I can take away, Paddy. The rest will be subject to the findings of the parole board.’

‘I know, I know, doc,’ said Paddy. ‘I shouldn’t tease you like that.’

Angela sighed and felt humble. She’s the one who shouldn’t ask questions that were so stupid to somewhere whose actions had led to his freedom being taken away. It was what had led him there that she was interested in.

‘Paddy, we’d got through to your teenage years’ said Angela. ‘Tell me how the Paddy of that age was feeling about life and what was happening to him?’

‘Aren’t you going to be any fun today, doc?’ said Paddy. ‘We always have some fun as well as dealing with all the serious shit.’

‘Let’s talk first.’

‘I felt abandoned.’ said Paddy after a pause, ‘Still after all the years I’d been left at the children’s home, I felt abandoned. I felt like nobody loved me.’

‘Which they didn’t’

‘Which they didn’t.’ said Paddy. ‘Or else how could my Mum have left me like that? I was still a child. In some ways I think I always will be that little boy who had to grow up a lot faster than he should’ve done.’

1972

The boys’ home was halfway up a hill that stretched from the ocean at the bottom to the main town at the top. It was where Sean came to sit and think about what he was going to do when the church threw him out. Some of them talked about trying to get home to England but Sean didn’t know how he would ever start with that. They were all mouth. Where would they get the money? Nobody would help them. They’d end up getting jobs and dirty little units in the not so nice parts of towns that they were never meant to see. They’d forever be the kids that had been dumped by their own parents and taken in by a church that thought it was no good showing them any love. They had to prepare them for the cruel world out there by beating the hell out of them or using them for sex.

He could always tell when Brother Michael was near by and approaching. Even up here on the hillside where the smells of the elements and the view of the vast open sea gave Sean some temporary relief from the misery of his existence, Brother Michael’s signature aroma managed to pollute Sean’s moments with nature.

‘Hello, Sean,’ said Michael who sat down beside him on the ledge that overlooked the ocean. He felt rather precarious. ‘You’re not afraid that a snake might slither along here? This is just the sort of habitat they like.’

‘I’ve never been bothered by one so far,’ said Sean who’d rather have to face one of Australia’s most venomous reptiles than have his arse pounded by this sick bastard every night..

‘You know you’re not supposed to be down here? There’s no danger signs or cordoned off parts but you’re told not to come.’

‘You’ve just got to be careful,’ said Sean.

‘Well it can be part of our secret’ said Brother Michael. ‘If you behave yourself. You come here every day, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see you’ said Brother Michael. ‘My window overlooks this spot as you well know young man. But it’s only my window that overlooks this spot. It’s only me who knows you come down here.’

Sean closed his eyes and tried to dream the filthy pervert away. His little piece of the world had now been contaminated. He could see his skin, his fingernails, his face looking as if nothing he was doing could ever be wrong. He could see his big legs slapping against his own when he was fucking him and his hands holding him steady at the shoulders.

‘Well,’ said Brother Michael ‘You’ve had your little taste of freedom. Come back with me now.’

Sean took a deep breath and then said ‘No.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said “No”.’

‘Repeat that again.’

‘No.’

Brother Michael slapped Sean around the head. Sean leapt up to his feet.

‘Leave me alone!’

Brother Michael was so shocked he still hadn’t thought about standing up. Sean was almost as tall as he was and this sudden onslaught of courage was worrying.

‘Sit down, Sean.’

‘No!’

‘Do as you’re told, Boy, or you’ll know what will happen to you.’

‘I said and I meant “no”.’

‘You want to go in the dungeon with Brother Charles? You won’t come out for days if I have the right word with him and I’ve never known a boy last for more than three in there.’