Legacy of Lies

‘I’m not saying that’s what happened, Da

Da

Patrick listened with amusement and Da

He covered the mouthpiece and said, ‘They’re redirecting me. This could take a little while.’

‘Sister?’ Da

‘They won’t tell you anything if you’re not a relative,’ Patrick whispered as Harry resumed his conversation with someone else.

‘Yes, my sister. Sharon Fielding. Yes. No, it would have been just over two weeks ago. We did call just after she disappeared but …’

Harry allowed his voice to trail off as though distressed and Patrick could hear the sympathetic tones of the woman on the other end of the line.

Harry repeated the description Da

‘No, no one there,’ he said. ‘She did tell me though, that if they’d had an unknown patient for this long, they would probably have put out an appeal in the local paper. She gave me a couple of numbers to try, local papers, I think, just in case we missed it. We’ll try the other hospitals first and then get on to them.’

Patrick got up and filled the kettle. He was reminded horribly of watching Naomi go through this very process earlier in the year when a close friend had gone missing. She had called the hospitals for him then, asking the questions Harry was asking. Later the friend had turned up dead. Drowned in the canal with a mix of drugs and booze in his stomach and an accusation of murder hanging over his head. Watching Harry do this brought back such painful memories. He could imagine what Da

He made tea and gave Da

‘Nothing?’ Patrick asked, though that was self evident.

‘No, we can cross those off the list. Now, what else do we have here?’ He glanced through the contacts that Da

‘You think you can do it?’

‘Sure I can.’ Harry smiled at the boy who eyed him speculatively.

‘What you doing this for?’ Da

‘Why not?’ Harry shrugged. ‘You need help. And besides,’ he added, meeting the boy’s eyes and knowing more was required, ‘I had a sister once, she went missing. It was twenty years before I found out what happened to her. Twenty years of wondering and never being able to settle properly because there was always that thought that she would come through the door.’

Not the best of analogies, Patrick thought anxiously. Helen had died. Been murdered. But he knew what his dad meant. Patrick had grown up in the shadow of her memory and in the end it had been a relief for everyone that they could finally know what happened to her.

Da

‘Ah, good morning.’ The fourth call now and so far nothing gained. ‘No, I’m not selling anything. I’m calling about Sharon Fielding … My son is a friend of Da

Pause. Harry listened, then, to Patrick’s surprise he raised his voice and spoke angrily into the phone. ‘Look, I’ve got the boy here now, sitting at my kitchen table, tearing his heart out because he doesn’t know what the hell happened to his mother. If you can’t give me a few minutes of your time …’

Pause, Patrick heard a woman shouting down the phone.

‘I’m sorry if you feel like that,’ Harry said. ‘But whatever you might have thought she was still his mother. I’d have thought a little compassion …’

Harry stared angrily at the phone. ‘Hung up,’ he said.

‘What was all that about?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Da

Da

‘Right. I see.’ Harry leaned back in his chair and stared at the remaining numbers.

‘What was her problem?’ Patrick asked.

Harry shrugged, but Patrick could tell this was something he didn’t want to talk about in front of Da

Da

Harry smiled at him. ‘Let’s give it a go.’ He glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was half past twelve. ‘Tell you what, you and Patrick make some lunch and I’ll do the rest of these on the other phone. The battery’s going on this one. I could hear it beeping on that last call.’

That wasn’t the only thing that needed beeping, Patrick thought. He’d caught enough of the woman’s language to register that.

Da

Patrick got up and went to the fridge. ‘What do you want?’ he said. ‘We’ve got ham and cheese and corned beef. Salad …’

Harry picked up the list and the phone and made his escape. One useful thing he had found out from Ellen March was that she wasn’t a friend of Sharon’s. From what she’d said to him, Harry would make a bet she was having an affair with Da

Twenty-Seven

Da

A car pulling up on the gravel brought him to the window, thinking Alec and Naomi had returned. He was shocked to see Marcus.

‘Shit!’ Patrick muttered. He had left the journals and laptop downstairs in the dining room in plain view.

Racing downstairs he passed the front door as Marcus rang the bell for a second time. Harry was about to open it as Patrick dashed by, grabbing his record bag from the coat pegs as he ran.

‘Patrick?’ Harry had the door open now and Marcus was coming inside.

Patrick scooted into the dining room and grabbed the books and the ledger, stuffing them into his bag. Marcus stuck his head around the door to say hello just as Patrick was attempting to do the same with the laptop.

‘Hello, Patrick. How are you?’ Marcus smiled broadly, then his expression froze. ‘You’ve found Rupert’s laptop.’

‘No,’ Patrick lied. ‘It’s mine. I’ve been using it for homework.’

‘Homework? I thought you’d finished for the year.’

‘I have, but I’ve got a project to start. Get ready for next term. I’m carrying on with the same subjects, you see, so I can kind of get ahead.’

Marcus eyed him thoughtfully and Patrick knew he did not believe a word of it.