The Quiet Truth: a haunting domestic drama full of suspense Read online

  Olga was busy too as a meat-producer and this was frowned upon by many. Without the tyranny of Gus she was thriving. I thought of Ella and my own mother and what a difference they might have made if they had Olga’s opportunities. I could see that Olga was well fit for the mental stamina it took and she earned us a pile of money. I recognised and admired the driven ambition she had.

  ‘I’ll never hit you,’ I promised her regularly.

  There was no sign of pregnancies and although both she and I suffered from intestinal issues, like ulcers now and again, we were healthy and industrious.

  With Olga away from the homestead most days working and travelling, the place needed the feminine touch and it was suggested to her at church that we should take in a home-child. It seemed children in need were still being shipped into Canadian ports, even with the war going on.

  ‘NO!’ I roared. ‘Never!’

  I hardly ever lost my temper with my Olga. The raised voice stunned her.

  ‘Are they still sending children here? I saw them when I came. It made me mad to see them treated worse than cattle,’ I said. ‘Those poor children have a terrible time of it. I know that you’ll tell me many have found loving homes. Many haven’t. If we talk about them, we need to be offering them donations or a good home. I won’t use them as labourers.’

  I hadn’t meant adoption, but Olga took it as such immediately. ‘Could we take one in as our own?’ she asked.

  ‘Let me think about it.’

  Bridget Fahy and the others from Daly’s sat in my mind for many hours – maybe even for days. I thought about all the boys like Randal on the ship, all the slaves on ranches who’d starved or frozen to death, all of the stories I knew and all of the ones I didn’t know. It was hard to believe that children were still suffering and I was still staying silent.

  There was nothing to be done. Whatever way I turned it over, it was all hopeless. These children had nothing else in their lives at home. Like myself, they may have left more hardships behind them. I told myself that many were bound to be better off now in beautiful Canada. Who was I to say that all situations were like Daly’s?

  I grappled with how Charlie Quinn could leap out of the shadows, when things were finally settling into a nice future. I’d worked hard for the life I was living and I chose to ignore the truths I knew.

  As per usual, I was a silent coward who turned his back on those who needed him.

  I also said no to Olga’s wishes to adopt. I had no right to ruin another child’s life.

  38

  Charlie Quinn

  A car pulls up at the house I’m staying in. A modern car for the 1990s that I should know the name of. It’s not Canadian and I care very little about vehicles. Reluctantly, I learned to drive. A horse is a far better mode of transport. Even with my bad bones and health, give me a horse any day.

  I press stop on the recorder and wait to see what fresh hell will come through the door.

  ‘Charlie.’

  It is Joe. Cheerful, boring Joe, whose main occupations are: accountancy, trapped fatherhood and grass-cutting.

  ‘All alone?’ he asks, looking around.

  ‘I’ve upset Rhonda.’

  ‘Really?’ He places the shopping on the floor in the hall. Her eyes give out to him for leaving his things there every evening and I say nothing. ‘It’s usually me she’s angry with.’

  ‘Not this time.’

  ‘Was it something you told her for the tapes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘I did say that it wasn’t going to be all plain sailing.’

  ‘You did warn her and she’s easily upset sometimes.’ Ordinary Joe shrugs his suited shoulders and pulls his tie looser. ‘Gone to her mother’s, I suppose?’

  ‘That’s what she said.’

  ‘I’ll call her in a while. I was looking forward to telling you both that I’ve got news.’ If Joe could look very excited he was looking it now. Eyes agog, mouth wide, hands outstretched, palms facing upwards, stance open and animated. ‘Ella wants to meet you.’

  I sit forward in the chair.

  ‘The public relations team, who is helping Ella, were very interested to know that you were back in the country. I was a little sketchy about your plans and details as I worry about these PR types. I asked for you to get to see her and they agreed. Unfortunately, it cannot be before Friday’s interview. I did my best. They are to confirm a date and time.’

  ‘Thank you, Joe.’

  ‘Anyhow, if we make our way to Dublin, she and her… wait for it… PR team will arrange a meeting for this Saturday afternoon.’

  ‘Team, eh?’

  ‘I know. How crass! She’s a convicted killer and she’s got a PR company helping her improve her image.’

  ‘And do they know about Rhonda recording me?’

  ‘I didn’t tell them anything really. I said I’d get back to them this evening, once we’d discussed things. I’ll see what Rhonda thinks too, eh? She might have to ask the paper she’s pitched to about exclusivity of your story.’

  ‘Might she now?’

  ‘I was impressed at the speed they all got back on. Once I got a number, they replied immediately when they heard your name. That’s what swung it.’

  ‘How is Ella?’

  ‘Good. I think. Finds it hard to walk far but for her age she’s in good health.’

  ‘Not dying like me? Can I get to Dublin somehow?’

  ‘Of course, I’ll take you. I hate city traffic but we’ll drive you down.’ Joe washes his hands and beams a big smile back to me on the couch. ‘Rhonda will be fine. She can have strange notions at times. She’s been finding it tough since the baby. I’ll talk to her. You’ve come a long way and after all this time, it’s only right that you get to see Ella.’

  ‘Thank you, Joe.’

  ‘Tea or something stronger? Let’s celebrate.’

  ‘What is the something stronger? I like whisky.’

  ‘Bushmills here we come,’ Joe says, sticking his head into a cupboard. The sight of the brown liquid in the crystal glass brings a lump to my throat. The smell of it stings and the water rushing in to dilute the potency is a nice sound. ‘I know I have to hear and understand a lot of your life, Charlie. Rhonda has been working hard in the evenings taking notes and making calls. I haven’t had a chance to listen to any of the tapes. Are you doing okay with it all?’

  ‘I’m fine thanks, Joe. Feel free to listen to some now. I might have a rest after I take my medication and pack my bags.’

  Putting an old man in a downstairs bedroom was a good idea, as old legs cannot make the steep steps. I hear the recorder go on as I get my clothes from drawers, then there’s the muffled voice of Charlie Quinn. I swallow the tablets and settle on top of the bed for a short sleep. I’m out for maybe an hour. My naps never last long, it is the cowboy in me. Brief snoozes are refreshing in the shade.

  Returning into the corridor that leads to the kitchen and living room, I cannot hear any tape recording. There’s a screech of a rewind and Rhonda’s voice saying, ‘I had Faye to keep Joe with me. I don’t want it mentioned again.’

  My shuffle towards the noise is long enough for Joe to have turned the volume up and have rewound the tape twice.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joe. I forgot that was there,’ I say when I can see his figure on the couch.

  Joe puts his hand into his hair and pulls.

  ‘We all have our reasons for secrets, lies and actions,’ I say, lifting the crystal glass.

  ‘Why did you come here?’ Joe yells and makes me dribble my whisky. ‘Why did I have to hear that?’

  39

  Rhonda Irwin

  There is a large package from Margie on the hall stand. I cannot face much more of her research. I don’t know why it is affecting me this much. There’s a sense that nothing will ever be the same again after Charlie’s visit with us.

  And as soon as I see Joe’s face, I know there’s something else wrong. He’s sitti
ng on the sofa with a whisky and there’s no sign of our guest.

  ‘I left Faye with Mum,’ I tell him, hoping that I’m reading the seriousness of the situation wrong. ‘She wanted to keep her for fish fingers and beans. There’s been another delivery from Margie. Each one takes its toll on my time and I thought I’d get a chance to write something as Charlie didn’t want any questions about his terrible revelations today. I need to talk with you, if you feel up to it.’

  Joe turns his head in my direction and I hear him mutter, ‘I listened to some of the tapes. All was fine until I heard your voice.’

  Did he say he heard me on the tapes? I hold my breath.

  ‘I listened to your revelation over and over. About Faye. About how you had her to keep me?’ Joe says.

  ‘Joe. I…’

  ‘I couldn’t figure out what had come between us.’

  ‘It wasn’t…’

  ‘It wasn’t what? What wasn’t what, Ronnie? What have I missed all these months? Tell me.’

  ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen.’

  ‘You didn’t think I would find out? Or you didn’t intend on getting pregnant? You didn’t mean to lie? Which is it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Tell me the truth. You got pregnant on purpose and then made me feel guilty for it. You made me feel that it was me who ruined your life – our lives!’

  ‘I have no words.’

  ‘For love of Jesus, Rhonda! I blamed myself. I thought that I caused you to have your depression, that the pregnancy was the start of our problems, and it wasn’t my fault at all.’

  ‘I never knew that you felt guilty. I’m sorry,’ I say through a sob. ‘I just stopped taking the pill. It wasn’t a big deal really. It was just an omission, a letting things take their course. A quiet lapse. I thought it would help us commit.’

  ‘Commit? Commit to what?’

  ‘To each other. You didn’t see that I needed to move us on to the next level.’

  ‘Move us on? For whom? Move us on to what?’ He’s on his feet striding, worryingly angry. Not like himself at all.

  ‘For the look of things, for people to stop asking when we were going to settle down. To prove we were a couple.’ I suddenly hear myself. It sounds fierce.

  Joe’s hands delve deep into his hair. He’s in terrible despair. I’ve never seen him like this – ever. It’s scaring me.

  ‘I know you wanted to get married – but this? I loved you. I really loved you.’

  40

  Charlie Quinn

  There’s no sign of breakfast, baby Faye, Rhonda or Joe. I sense there will be no questions today. Tonight is Ella’s interview and I have no way to get to Dublin. I doubt that Rhonda and Joe will sit into a car with me or each other.

  I’m about to look for the phone directory to make an effort at getting my own way to the capital when Rhonda appears in a dressing gown. She’s been crying. Her eyes are swollen and there’s a red tip to her nose.

  ‘I’ll make us toast and coffee,’ she says. It seems that Rhonda is ever the hostess. ‘Joe heard too much yesterday.’

  I nod. She’s not looking at me.

  ‘Is Joe here?’ I ask.

  ‘Of course he is. Joe is a man of his word. I told you that.’

  The kettle clicks on and I watch the robin in the garden watch us.

  ‘Why did you let him hear that?’ she asks.

  ‘It was unfortunate. He came home early and I didn’t want to talk and I let him listen to the tapes. I didn’t see any harm. He was all excited about getting me an appointment to see Ella. I suppose that was his reason for being home early? I’m sorry, Rhonda.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Joe is loyal. Everything will be fine. And I sense my coming here will put things right in many ways.’

  ‘Pah! You only talk about what suits you,’ she says, banging mugs onto the counter. ‘We’ve uncovered quite a bit, Charlie. Of course, you don’t want to talk about that.’

  She fills the kettle. This is a new side to Rhonda. She was fine with me being in control. Until now. I know she’s upset and the facade she uses is slipping.

  ‘I learned that at the outbreak of the war your father needed to go to hospital,’ she says. ‘He was getting dementia. “Starting to dote and be aggressive” I think was the term used to describe him at this time. Cedric paid for him to be cared for in a Belfast sanitarium. He rarely visited but Anna did and she kept diaries. Her family have been very helpful. They wanted to be good to you too. Anna’s daughter copied some extracts from the diaries and sent them on to me. In short, Charlie, your father confessed to Anna that he killed your mother by drowning her in the barrel in the backyard. Why did you not tell me this?’

  ‘Ah.’ The twist in my gut clenches and it groans in hunger as I had no meal last night.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you but it needed said. You’re not shocked?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know what else it said?’

  ‘My father would have said anything to Anna. She didn’t remember him at his worst.’

  ‘You know the rest, Charlie. I know you do. Your father made you help him. He insisted that you bring the cart around and made you haul and push your mother’s corpse onto it. Then he pushed it, with your help, to the quarry and tipped her over the edge.’ Rhonda holds her own throat in panic at saying that. ‘Is that a lie?’

  ‘I was a child.’

  ‘Did he make you help him?’

  ‘What do the diary accounts say?’

  ‘It says that you cried and refused to do it. That you wanted to take off her apron and make her look pretty. Your father wouldn’t let you and made you help him. I think that is the right version. You always thought of her apron, because he wouldn’t let you take it off her. You poor thing, Charlie. This is terrible.’

  A tear lodges in the corner of my eye and blots the glass on my spectacles.

  ‘You were damaged by that alone,’ she says sympathetically. ‘You knew if you told anyone about it, Anna and Cedric would have been taken away. He threatened that you all would have no parent left and would be taken to the orphanage. You loved your mother and it was such a cruel start.’

  ‘He was a righteous man and he got away with it.’

  ‘I don’t blame you for the way you are. Your little mind must have been scarred by an experience like that.’

  ‘How did Father die?’

  ‘In his sleep shortly after he was taken into the sanitarium.’

  Rhonda has been doing a lot of poking into the past. I blow my nose and add, ‘It’s a pity he had an easy death. I always prayed that the bastard would die roaring.’

  41

  Charlie Quinn

  The quiet couple, who have held commitment and secrets from each other, sit in the front seats and let me stretch out in the back. We are going to find Ella. Faye is left with a grandmother who I possibly met and who probably has heard of my sins now too.

  I know both of these young cubs think that I am a bad person and I suppose that I am. They’re not talking to me or to each other at the moment and this suits me fine. I want to speak to Ella before I divulge anymore. I should try to help them… I’ve already done enough and the silence is nice for the hours in the car.

  The hotel is sparse, modern and shiny. My room is next to theirs and I can hear them argue. Lying on the purple, bobbled throw on the bed, the muffled annoyance disappears and a door bangs.

  How is Ella today? Where is she? What is she feeling? Has she heard that I am going to see her soon? Does that make her as happy as it makes me?

  She’s in her eighties now. How might she look? Will I recognise her? Might she have aged better than I imagine?

  I know that I’ll still love her. Her beauty will remain despite the hardship of our years apart.

  The country is awash with talk about the show. The barman and waiter both mentioned wanting to be near a TV later. Thankfully,
Joe and Rhonda kept their information about me quiet and we ate silently. I sipped at the soup as Rhonda had grunted annoyance about the noises, and the liquid slithered down my acidic gullet to settle in with the pills. I’m nervous as I wait alone in the purple-themed room for The Late Late Show to come on.

  There is the theme tune, the lights and compassionate host.

  ‘Earlier today, The Late Late Show team recorded an exclusive interview with Ella O’Brien. Most of tonight’s show is this exclusive report. For those of you who perhaps don’t know, Ella gained notoriety when she was found guilty of three counts of infanticide in December 1931. She was later released from what was considered to be a lenient sentence to the care of the Sisters of Good Hope. It was felt that she got an easy reprieve as she always lacked remorse or understanding of her crimes. Ella O’Brien remains in the consciousness of the nation and this is her story. We wish to thank her for finding the time and energy to speak candidly. We’ve not heard from Ella herself and tonight she wishes to set the record straight. Ella has asked that following the interview, people leave her extended family and that of her late husband’s family, or any other persons named tonight – in peace. Ella resides with the Sisters of Good Hope and she also wishes to remind the general public that she will not be answering further questions or doing further interviews. She wishes for the convent to remain a place of solace. After sixty years or more of silence, Ella reveals all that she knows to me now, in this sixty-minute interview. It is safe to say that the nation will be saddened and shocked by what she has to say.’

  The camera leaves the host’s face and pans around to an old, grey-haired woman in a chair. She is the woman I’ve missed and loved for this long.

  ‘Ella O’Brien – welcome.’