River of Lies (13 page)

The next morning I fumbled around the house, not sure that I was making the right choice to meet up with Tilly.  My stomach was twisted in knots and I felt like I was coming down with a cold.

When I got to the park, I saw Tilly sitting on the log fence near the carpark; she had her head down and toed at the grass on the gutter. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t too late to walk away, I could leave, she hadn’t even seen me, but my feet kept walking towards where Tilly sat. As I got close to her, I shuffled loudly, so as not to give her a fright, she looked up, and shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked blankly at me, and it was as if she didn’t recognise me at all.

“Wow, you’ve got huge” she said, a little too loudly, which let her nerves known.

I smiled and instinctively patted my bulge that was more than a bulge now. I sat cautiously next to her on the log.

“Tilly, why did Michael kill Dylan?” I asked bluntly. I could see that my question took her by surprise.

“Are you still on about that? Fuck, anyone would think he was your boyfriend” she spat, but her eyes told me something, I couldn’t quite work it out, but there was something.

My heart began to race, as fear swept its way through my whole body.

“Tilly please. Don’t you care? You said you loved him, why don’t you care?” I asked as I tried to quell what seemed to be an evil rage that was beginning to rise up in her.

Tilly didn’t even look up at me. She just shook her head.

“He was fucking Shelly”

I shook my head and grabbed hold of Tilly’s arm.  She looked at me, her face filled with hatred and anger, that same hatred she had when she beat me senseless.

“He wasn’t Tilly, he wasn’t” I said softly.

I watched her face soften slightly, as tears welled up in her sunken eyes. I could see by the look on her face, and the track marks in the crook of her elbow that she was still doing the drugs. I suddenly felt so responsible for her demise, she believed that Dylan was having an affair, and she was right, but she had no idea that the baby I was carrying was as a result of that affair. I wanted to tell her, I wanted to come clean, but I felt like I couldn’t hurt her any more than what had already happened.

“It doesn’t matter anyway Mon, that’s what Michael thought, that Dylan and Shelly were together” she said.

“Did Michael tell you that?”

Tilly shook her head.

“No I told Michael”

I frowned at Tilly.

“When? Tilly, when did you tell him that?”

Tilly shrugged, as she toed at the grass again.

“When I found out that Dylan was dead”

“So he didn’t do it because he thought they were having an affair?”

Tilly shook her head her tears began to spill onto her cheeks.

“I did love him, Mon, but I hated him so much, he should have chosen me, if he had chosen me, he wouldn’t be dead, I warned him” she said, as she stood up and dusted off her pants.

“What do you mean Tilly?” I was completely confused.

“It doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore, he didn’t want me, he wanted someone else, you say it wasn’t Shelly, Michael says it wasn’t Shelly, for all I know it was fucking you.”

I looked away so that she couldn’t see the truth in my eyes. When I looked back, she had begun to walk down the hill, towards the road.

“Tilly” I yelled, she turned back to look at me. “I’m sorry”

Tilly shrugged and kept walking. I didn’t have any answers. And I felt more miserable than ever.

Chapter Sixteen.

I spent the following days going over everything that had happened in those final days before Dylan was killed. I hadn’t contacted Tilly again. But the thought that she knew more about his demise gnawed at my gut. I was lost and didn’t know what to do. Part of me kept thinking that I should just move on and not think about it anymore, let the law take care of it all and move on; but then the other side of me wanted justice, wanted the truth, wanted the answer why. 

I was sitting on the couch, deep in thought when a knock shook my silence. I went to the door and could see through the stained glass that it was a figure of a woman. I swung the door open expecting to see Tilly, but instead it was Shelly’s face, pale and worn that stared back at me. I wanted to slam the door and hide. But instead I stood there; I just stared at this woman who I barely recognised. Her hair which used to be teased and full, now hung drab around her face, her eyes were sunken deep into their sockets. Deep dark bags formed under her eye balls, her hands were shaking and she couldn’t stand still.

“What are you doing here Shelly?” I asked my voice surprised me with the ferocity that came out.  I watched Shelly flinch and instinctively begin to bite her already chewed down nails.

“Mon, you need to know something”

I folded my arms and continued to stare at her.

“Michael didn’t kill Dylan”

“Then who did?” I practically screamed at her.

Shelly shook her head, as she whipped her dirty blonde hair around her face.  She reached up and began to gouge at her face, she looked like she was picking at invisible bugs that crept their way under her skin.

“No, I mean he killed him, but he didn’t kill him on purpose”

“What the hell do you mean Shelly? He didn’t accidently bash Dylan’s head in with a rock that was on purpose.” My anger was starting to rise and I could hear my voice beginning to shriek. “Shelly, I think you better go, you aren’t supposed to be talking to me anyway”

She nodded and looked like she wanted to reach out to me, her eyes suddenly dropped to my belly; I protectively covered it with my arm. Her face seemed to pale even more as she looked back up to me.

“It was you Mon” she said. Her eyes welled up with tears, as her scratching became more intense, her chewed down nails gouging at her skin on her already crusted cheeks.

I shook my head at her, and frowned.

“You are talking rubbish Shelly, you need to go get yourself clean; you’re not making any sense” I said, as I stepped back into the house and begun to shut the front door.

Suddenly her hand shot out against the door, and stopped me from closing it.

“Mon, Dylan, his baby, it was you” she said, her words slurred and tears flowed down her face.

I shook my head, and pushed hard against the door, to try and shut her out.

“No Shelly, no.”

Her elbow buckled and the door slammed with a loud thud. I quickly flicked the dead bolt to lock her out. As I stood, my back against the hard wood, I let out a deep sigh, and realised that I had been holding my breath. My own tears threatened to overflow. The only thing I had to be thankful for was the state in which Shelly was in; no one, namely Tilly, would believe or listen to her anyway.

I heard Shelly shuffle off the front step, and as I went to the lounge room window, I watched her meander her way down the street, stopping and starting, she looked as if she was trying to decide whether to come back or not. I flopped down onto the couch, and rubbed my eyes in my hands.

“Oh Dylan, I don’t know if I can do this on my own” I said to the empty room as my tears flowed down my face. At the same time I felt the baby kick rhythmically.

That night when we sat at the kitchen table eating dinner, Dad had come to visit; he told me that Shelly had come to the house, and had been on a rant about Dylan. I stiffened in my seat and dreaded what was going to come next.

“What was she saying?” Sandra asked.

“Well I can’t really tell you, she wasn’t making a hell of a lot of sense, I think she was pretty stoned” he said, as he eyed me carefully.  I pushed my peas around the plate with the fork.

“What did you do?” Jessica asked, almost excitedly at the drama of it all.

“I rang the cops, got her out of there”

“So they came and took her away?” I asked. Dad nodded his head, his eyes full of concern as he stared at me.

After the dinner dishes had been washed and put away, Jessica went to the lounge to watch television with Sandra, while I wiped down the kitchen. Dad lingered behind and I knew that he wanted to speak with me.

“Wanna come outside with me Mon?” he said, as he walked towards the back door.

I followed him, and dreaded what I was about to be told, I knew from his demeanour during dinner, that something more than Shelly’s drug fuelled ramblings had happened.

When we got outside and away enough from the house, Dad put his arm around my shoulder and spoke to me in a soft tone to prevent being heard.

“Shelly said some stuff today, it’s got my back up a bit, and it’s not making a lot of sense”

I frowned, as I tried to read my dad’s face.

“What did she say?”

“Well she said she had been here”

I nodded, I ran my hand through my hair and realised how sore my back and legs were.  Dad nodded and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

“Mon, I think Michael might have been put up to it, I don’t think he killed Dylan on his own”

“Shelly said that Michael didn’t kill him on purpose, but I couldn’t work out what she meant, but that would make sense. But Dad, who? Who would do that to him? He hated drugs, he hated that world, and he wouldn’t have got involved in it”

Dad squeezed my shoulder again.

“Mon, I don’t want you to get upset, but I want you to think about something, Dylan knew you were pregnant, he wanted to get you away from there, he wanted to start a life with you.” He cleared his throat and looked over towards the house. “Maybe, and it’s only a maybe, he was involved to raise the money.  He didn’t have a job, how else was he going to raise a baby?”

I shook my head, I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t believe that Dylan was involved in that world, but deep down inside I knew that the possibility was real. It made sense why he went with Michael, the man that he couldn’t stand previously.

“What are you two doing out here?”

Our heads both snapped towards the back door, where Sandra stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her smile suddenly dropped to a frown.

“What is it? What has happened?” she said, as she marched down the stairs towards us. “Shane? Tell me, Shane?”

Dad put his hands up, and touched Sandra’s arm gently.

“Nothing’s happened Sandra, it’s all under control, no need for upset”

Sandra shook her head; I could see her panic begin to rise.

“She, Shelly, she said something to you today? What did she say?”

Dad continued to pat Sandra’s arm as he shook his head.

“It was nothing, just a stupid junkie rambling”

“That’s all good and well Shane, but I would believe that if you two weren’t out here huddled like a footy scrum, talking in whispers” she snapped.

I was taken back with the anger that was in her voice.

“Shane, he was my damned son, if that junkie knows something that happened to him and why he is never going to come back to me, then you need to tell me” Sandra’s voice was beginning to become shrill, with a mix of panic and anger.

Dad took her hands gently and gave them a squeeze.

“She just said, that Michael might have been given orders to kill Dylan, but I think it’s just stupid junkie talk”

“Who? Who the hell would do that, who would tell him to kill Dylan?” Sandra practically screamed.

Dad pulled her into his chest, as her sobs wracked through her whole body; I looked up to see Jessica standing in the doorway, concern written on her face.

“It will all get sorted out love” Dad said into her hair, but loud enough for us all to hear. “The courts will take care of it all, it will all come out and those responsible will come to justice, there will be justice for Dylan” Dad’s voice was breaking as I noticed his tears dripping into the top of Sandra’s hair.

The world seemed suddenly topsy turvy and nothing seemed to make sense.  I felt like Alice in Wonderland, that I had fallen into an alternate world where everything was upside down. Like a bad dream, that I couldn’t find the exit for.

Chapter Seventeen.

I woke up the next morning with the feeling of dread growing inside me; it felt like I was lurching from one drama to another. I longed for a boring peaceful life, one that didn’t involve so much heartache and anguish.  I looked over at the bedside table and saw the folded paper with the mysterious number written on it. I sat up and fingered the edges, a million thoughts ran through my mind, Dad’s words, Tilly’s words, Shelly’s words all hit my brain at once as a sea of voices and words, and underneath it all was Dylan’s face, lying in a coffin, his mouth turned up in a peaceful small smile.

He would never have wanted all this, he would have never wanted his mother crying herself to sleep, and he wouldn’t have wanted to leave us with so many unanswered questions. He liked everything just right, and complete. I needed to find the answers, but it seemed like a jig saw puzzle had strategic pieces missing. And the worst part was that I didn’t know where to look for those missing pieces.