I know my mother would have accepted the accident if it was just that. Accidents happen. I remember when she came to the hospital. I was crying. She was crying. Jamie was dead. He had fallen down the stairs.
Amanda had gone out that night and Jamie was upstairs. He was fed and changed and sleeping comfortably. I remember checking in on him. The little blue bundle lying in the cot. I decided to have a drink. Just the one. I was bored and lonely and feeling very sorry for myself, that I couldn’t go out and enjoy myself like everyone else. Earlier that week I’d had a glass or two of wine with Amanda. I felt fine. Got up in the middle of the night for Jamie’s feed, no bother. Sure, I could do it again. Only this time I didn’t stop.
When Amanda arrived back she had found us both at the foot of the stairs unconscious and had called the ambulance. She doesn’t speak about it. How awful it must have been for her to walk in on that scene: her sister and her nephew both lying on the ground. Only one breathing.
The next day the police had arrived at my hospital bedside. My mother was with me and she had heard them question me about the amount of alcohol in my system at the time of the accident. They mentioned something about gross negligence. I could hear their words cutting a hole in my life. I wanted to kill myself. My little boy was dead. His tiny body lying in a cold mortuary because of me. My selfishness. I had survived the fall, only I knew I hadn’t. Any happiness, joy, excitement, any reason to live had vanished when Jamie slipped out of my arms.
I had looked over at my mother. Her face had changed in front of me, her eyes filling with tears that rolled down her pale skin. She listened to the police asking me questions. Her daughter was the reason her grandchild was gone. I remember the last words she ever spoke to me. ‘You stupid, evil girl.’
* * *
My phone beeps. I look out the window. Still no movement from Pat. Lifting my phone, I open the text from Amanda.
You’re not going to believe it. Have a look at the email.
My heart begins to quicken once more. I rush back to the laptop and open the email that has just come in. My fingers wiggle over the keyboard as I wait for the message to download. My stomach is in a knot. What is in that folder? What am I not going to believe?
I click on the message. Then the file attached. The laptop flashes two photographs onto the screen. I freeze. This can’t be right. Holy fuck. I did not see that coming.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Frozen to the spot, I sit staring at the image of Noel and Olive wrapped around one another. In one photo, they’re kissing. Not like friends. This is a ‘please do not disturb’ kiss. In the other, she’s sitting straddled across his lap. They’re sitting on a small grassy hill, a sunny blue sky in the background. He’s kissing her neck. My eyes are unable to move away from the image. What the hell is going on? Vicky Murphy must have been doing a bit of Jessica Fletcher on these two. I wonder who asked her to. Abbie?
That must be why Abbie never lets him out of her sight. She’s either linking his arm or following him from one room to another. Did she know about the affair? Did she ask Vicky to investigate Noel and take her down a path that would ultimately lead to her murder? And Olive, that must be why she’s being so cool with Noel. He’s leaving her. Going to Oman with Abbie and ending the relationship. Maybe Olive was the one angry with Vicky for bringing her secret love life to an end.
I wonder what Conor will say. This is unbelievable stuff and I’m here on my own with a new baby and no one to discuss it with. I really should ring Conor and tell him what I’ve found out. We’re going to have to give this to the police now. No question about it. This is bad. Noel and Olive were having an affair and Vicky had proof. I wonder if they knew she had photos of them. Surely, though, if Olive and Vicky were close friends like everyone