She’d tucked him under her duvet. How the hell had he got back into my loft?
I put him back in the box and snapped the lid shut, before climbing down the metal steps, my heart thudding.
Once downstairs, I put on my thick socks and boots and grabbed my parka, shoving the painting that had arrived earlier into my pocket.
I scooped up my car keys from the plate near the door. I knew I had to visit Mum.
July 1987
Laura dangled her feet in the lake, the hot sun stroking her neck. The house her father built stood behind her as though determined to cast its shadow over her.
But it was a beautiful day, and the sun’s rays danced on the water like shimmering diamonds. Anglers on the banks in the far distance looked like tiny dolls set up by a child. A sailboat glided across the lake, carried by the breeze.
Laura nibbled on a blade of grass, as she gazed through her sunglasses, her corduroy maternity dungarees tight across her stomach.
The jerking movements of her unborn child brought her out of her trance. She touched her stomach, but instead of how she’d hoped she might feel by now – amazed and bewildered by the miracle growing inside her – it was as though she was carrying an alien. An alien that reminded her daily that Jude let her down.
Seven months she’d carried the little stranger, and now she’d stopped hoping Jude would call. She’d accepted he never would, and any love she’d first felt for their unborn child had been replaced with fear. Thoughts of moving away, starting a new life, were a distant memory. She hadn’t got the strength to move on – not right now. Perhaps she should have told her GP she dreaded the birth of her child. But how do you explain something so awful? How do you say those words?
She clung to the rapidly fading glimmer of hope that maybe, when she held her child in her arms, her motherly instincts would kick in. Burst through and outweigh anything she’d ever felt for Jude. Maybe their baby would become the love of her life, and together they would start a new life somewhere else.
Twigs snapped behind her. She turned, but there was nothing to see. She knew it was Dillon. She’d seen him several times over the past few months, when they would drink lemonade and talk. She had learnt not to ask too many questions about his home life because each time she had, he’d clouded over and clammed up.
He was an imaginative, animated boy, lighting up as he described the monster in the lake, and the werewolves in the woods – giving Laura’s life a much-needed magical boost. He’d been flattering too – telling her he could talk to her more easily than he could to anyone else. And he’d loved her paintings.
Laura had enjoyed painting since childhood, and despite dropping out of university, she’d loved studying art. And now painting had become her go-to – her escapism from her grief and isolation.
‘They’re fecking brilliant,’ he’d said, scanning her walls. (They’d taken ages to put up – a rebellious act against her parents.) ‘Maybe you could paint one of me and me sisters?’
‘One day,’ she’d said.
‘Dillon,’ she called now, her gaze skimming over the cluster of trees, blinking as a beam of sunlight hurt her eyes. ‘Is that you?’
The sun drifted behind a fluffy white cloud, and Laura pulled on her cardigan and shivered. ‘Dillon, don’t be silly,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Come and talk to me.’
He appeared on the bank behind her, and she patted the ground moaning as she twisted her baby bump, a twinge crossing her stomach. ‘Sit with me,’ she said, and he ran and dropped down beside her, stretching out as the sun crept out once more – his hands behind his head like a pillow, and eyes closed.
‘Did you know the mayfly only lives twenty-four hours?’ he said.
‘I did not know that,’ she said with a smile.
‘And did you know the dragonfly doesn’t bite or sting? Although it looks pretty scary.’ He pulled himself to a sitting position, and she noticed his eyes were bloodshot and red.
‘Are you OK, Dillon?’
‘Yep, course. Why?’ He avoided her gaze.
She placed her hand on his arm. ‘You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?’
‘I said, I’m fine.’ He pushed her hand away. ‘Don’t go all soft on me, Laura.’
‘OK, sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. So tell me more about the dragonfly.’
He rubbed his face hard, and his eyes shimmered. She wanted to ask again if he was OK, but felt it might scare him away.
‘Did you know fox pups stay with their parents until they’re seven months old? They make great parents. I like foxes. I often see one out here.’
‘You’re so clever. How do you know all this stuff?’
He shrugged, and turned to look at her, eyes serious.
‘What is it, Dillon? Please tell me.’
‘I can’t. If he knew …’
‘Who knew?’
He dropped his head, fiddling with his fingers. ‘You have to promise on your baby’s life you won’t say anything.’
‘OK.’
‘It’s just … sometimes I find my sister Bridie in the cupboard. I hear her sobbing sometimes because it’s dark in there, and she can’t get out. Ma has the key.’
‘Oh my God, Dillon,’ she said, her heartbeat speeding up.
‘Ma says me da puts her in there before he heads off to work, as a punishment. And ma says she daren’t get her out because he’d go mad, and hit her.’ He paused, now picking at a scab on his knee. ‘But Bridie’s only little, Laura.’ The scab came away in his fingers, and blood trickled. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me da. He’s always been a bit of a shouter, but now it’s as if the divil’s gotten into him.’
Laura studied the boy, shocked something so awful could be happening – was he telling the truth? He’d never mentioned anything like it before.
‘I swear on my sisters’ lives it’s true,’ he said, as though he knew what she was thinking.
Laura’s mind spun. ‘Shall I come over?’
‘Jaysus and all his angels, no.’ Dillon narrowed his eyes, and wiped away the blood on his knee with his sleeve. ‘You can’t come to the farmhouse, Laura.’ He shot to his feet. ‘If Da or Ma find out I’ve been talking …’ He looked towards her, fear in his eyes. ‘There’s nothing you can do, anyway. I once called the Guards on Da, because Ma said he hit her. But Ma wouldn’t let them in. Denied it, and they just believed her. Never came back. I just needed
