Tainted (34 page)

Enid picked out a pack of cigarettes from her bag.

“Do you mind?” She waved them at Holly.

“No, please, go ahead. I'll get an ashtray.”

Like he couldn't wait to do something evil.

Was that the way it really was, Jack? Is it true? Can an eleven-year-old child be evil?

When she returned and put the ashtray in front of Enid, she sat down beside her again; their thighs were touching.

“Blame the parents,” Enid said, at the same time lighting the cigarette. “That's what that bitch of a lawyer tried to do. If she had children of her own, she wouldn't have, I promise you that. But no, she says, it's not his fault, it's his parents.” They didn't love him.

“I'm not saying they were good people, the Graingers. They were snooty, full of themselves. They didn't have any time for him. But they didn't beat him or nothing. They didn't lay a finger on that boy. He had everything he could want or need. Other children, they're much worse off, and do they do what he did? No. No, they don't. So the parents didn't kiss or cuddle him—does that give him the right? Does anything on this earth give him the right?”

She blew out the smoke forcefully.

“I'm so sorry, Enid.”

“All I'm saying is don't you go feeling any guilt. He shouldn't have been allowed out, never. They made this song and dance about him not having touched them, you know, in any bad way.

“I'll tell you something. I wouldn't have wanted anyone touching my babies like that, I would have gone mental, but if that had happened and whoever had done it had let them live? I've asked myself that question and I've answered it. I'd rather it was that way. As long as they were still alive. Still with me.”

She swept at her face with her free hand in an angry gesture.

“You can cry. Go ahead. Please.”

“No—I said I weren't going to do this.” Grabbing her bag again, she fished out some Kleenex. “I promised myself. If I found you, I'd be strong. I talk too much. No one wants to listen. Gary, he's tired of it. He wants us to have a baby, you know? He says I'm not too old, but I will be soon.” She dabbed at her face, took another drag of her cigarette. “He thinks that will help. But me? I know I'll spend my whole time worrying. Never letting the baby out of my sight. Gary says that the worst has already happened, it won't happen again. But he hasn't been through it, you know? He doesn't know what it does to you, how it tears you up. It tears you into pieces. It killed my husband. He killed my babies and he killed my husband. And he's killing me. Bit by bit, he's killing me.”

She stubbed the semi-smoked butt into the ashtray.

“He's dead, Enid.”

“I know, I know.” She grabbed her bag again, brought out a comb and swept it furiously through her mass of hair. “That's why I came. To make it more real and everything. Gary saved his money for this trip. He's a good man. He doesn't want to hear me go on about it but he wasn't going to stop me from coming. He knows. He's not saying anything but he knows.”

“Do you think it has helped?”

“Fucked if I know.”

The way she said it startled Holly—it could have been Henry.
“Fucked if I know, sweetie.”

“I should be going.” She began to gather all the photographs, put them back into their packet.

“You don't have to go. You could stay, have a coffee.”

“No. No, Gary'll be waiting. It's a drive back.” She stood up, began to speak, stopped, then said, “Tell me something. Did you love him?”

“Yes.” Holly had stood up too. Enid's face was close to hers. “I did.”

“So did my girls.”

“I didn't know at the end. I mean, I still don't know if he was going to actually kill my daughter or not. I think he loved her.”

“He said he loved mine too. What a load of rubbish.” Once again her hand delved into the bag, brought out the cigarettes and a lighter. Holly watched as she lit up, inhaled, exhaled. Jack had smoked in what was almost a tender way, lovingly inhaling, taking his time with each cigarette; Enid's smoking was harsh, angry, fast.

“You have to have a heart to love someone. No offense or nothing but you still have a daughter to love and you're wasting your time thinking about
him
and whether he was going to kill her or not kill her. He was going to kill her all right but if he weren't, what's the frigging difference? He killed your grandfather, I read. He kills people.That's what he does. That's what he
did.
Your daughter's the one you should be thinking about, not him. You saved her, you should be jumping up and down. You should be the happiest woman on this earth.”

The next puff of smoke blew straight into Holly's face but she didn't wave it away.

“Look, I'm sorry. I can see his charm got to you, like, but it makes me mental. I
have
to think about him, you don't. That evil little bastard didn't kill your babies. You don't have to feel the guilt I do for letting him kill your babies. You have no clue how that would feel. That guilt. And you're sounding worried like he may not have killed your daughter so why did you shoot him? You shot him for
me
, if you want a reason. You shot him for
me.
”

She sank back down on the sofa, burst into tears. Holly sat beside her, put her arm around her shoulders.

“Enid, I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am.”

She cried, pushing her left hand through her hair over and over again, smoking with her right. When the cigarette was down to its filter, she put it out in the ashtray, straightened up, pulled out the little blue-and-white pad of Kleenex, and wiped her face.

“This must be so painful for you. I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. I didn't mean to go off on one like that, give you a hard time. It's just I don't want anyone to give that monster another thought, ever. He don't deserve that. I can't ever forgive him, no fucking way. But maybe I can forget him. No, I can't forget him either. But at least I don't have to think any more that he's having a good time, laughing. And that's a blessing. I mean it.” She reached out, touched Holly on her thigh. Her make-up was smudged, her hair a mess. “I can't ask you to see a photo of your daughter. Do you understand that? I can't.”

“Of course I understand.”

“I can tell you're a good person.” Out came a compact from her bag, and the comb again. “I'm in a right state, aren't I?” She shook her head. “I have to fix myself up here. If you let one thing go, then it all goes, you know? It's why I can't have a drink, not even one any more. If I had one, I'd have a million. Like the fags. I should give them up too but I can't.” She concentrated on her image in the mirror of the compact, spent five minutes putting her face back together while Holly went and got her a cup of coffee.

“Here.” She handed it to her. “Please.”

“No. No, I've got to be going. Thank you but I need to leave now. I've talked too much. I only came to make it seem more real, and to thank you. I never meant to start talking.”

“It's fine, honestly. I'm glad you talked. If there's ever anything I can do, please let me know. Can I talk to you again some time? Can I have your phone number?”

“I don't mean to be rude or nothing, but no.” She was up and heading for the door, Holly following her. At the threshold she stopped.

“I have to go back to Gary now and try to . . . try to . . . I don't know. But no more of him. If I keep letting him into my life like I have been, it'll be the end of me and Gary too. He'll kill that too. I wanted to thank you and I did but I talked too much. It's the last time. I have to stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“I can tell you're a good person, Holly,” she said again.

“You're the good one.”

“No. I used to be, but no. Still . . .” She shrugged, shifted the bag from one shoulder to the other. “I can try to make Gary happy.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“You should talk to Gary about that.” She let out a half-laugh. “And now I have to drive on the frigging wrong side of the road again.”

“Be careful, drive carefully.”

“Yeah, and you too, OK? You take care of yourself and that daughter of yours.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Bye.” She stepped forward, gave Holly a kiss on both cheeks.

“Goodbye, Enid.”

She watched as Enid got into the car and drove off. And then she walked over to Henry's house.

It was up for sale too. The Barretts would no longer be on Birch Point. This was the end of an era, an era that had begun as a family's search for an idyllic spot to relax and spend summers in. She sat down on the top step of the porch. All Henry's furniture had gone; it had been auctioned in a sale Holly hadn't attended.

Holly looked up at the sky: there wasn't a cloud in it. When she lowered her gaze, stared out to sea, she saw only one boat: a boat that looked like the
Sea Ox
, with a lone figure steering it. A tall bald man, standing up straight at the wheel. She waved. Even though there was no chance at all that he could see her, she waved and whispered, “I love you,” watching the boat until, when it was out of sight, she stood and walked back to her house.

As she was making herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, she heard her cellphone ringing in the living room. She took her mug, went and answered it.

“Holl?” It was Anna. “Who was in the car?”

“Enid Dunne. The mother of the girls Jack killed.”

“Christ. What did she want? Are you all right?”

“She wanted to thank me. For killing him.”

She heard Anna draw in her breath, let it out in a gust.

“That's heavy-duty. Are you OK?”

“Yes. I'm fine. It's hard to explain, but I feel . . . I don't know . . . I feel like it was fate in a way—that she came here today when I was here. I was supposed to see her.”

“Your voice sounds different. Stronger.”

“He's left, Anna.”

“Who's left?”

“Jack. He's gone. He's not in the house any more. I was just making a cup of coffee and I realized it: he's gone.”

“Yeah. Well, he
is
dead, Holl.”

“Now he is.”

“OK, whatever. I'm glad. I'm glad he's gone.”

“I'm going to do it now.”

“Are you sure? Are you sure you don't want me with you?”

“I'm sure.”

“I know you're going to be OK. You'll be fine.”

“I'll be fine whatever happens. Katy's alive. That's all that matters.”

“OK, but call me, will you? Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Bye. And Holl—I'm not a dyke or anything, as you know, but I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Returning to the porch, she sat down with her cup of coffee. This was the last time she'd ever sit here. The fact that she couldn't feel Jack in the house as she had before didn't change her mind: she had to leave Birch Point, start again in another place. What Enid had just said kept running through her mind.

Was there such a thing as an evil child? Could a child be born evil, was there an evil gene, passed down through generations? Or did evil strike randomly in the crib, the devil infiltrating a baby's soul? Was it nature or nurture? Did Jack's parents shape his personality, make him violent with their lack of love, their non-parenting?

If she'd been given an essay to write at school on the nature-versus-nurture question, she would have sat down and done a good job on it, arguing all the points in a rational way. But life didn't allow you to answer questions like that. It was too complicated, too subtle and confusing. Enid had seen the evil in Jack, but Holly hadn't. No matter how she looked back on their past together, even knowing what she now knew, she couldn't say he had been evil. Not to her—until the end. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't deny that she had loved him and that he had given her joy.

How could an evil boy who had murdered two innocent children and spent years in jail have a sense of humor? Be so tender in bed, so loving? But then how could Jack have killed Henry, stabbed him to death? And taken Katy with him like that? Wasn't that pure evil? Could any excuse justify that? No.

Life may taint us, but Jack wasn't just tainted, he was steeped in blood.

“Your daughter's the one you should be thinking about, not him. You saved her, you should be jumping up and down. You should be the happiest woman on this earth.”

I'll never know the answers. Do I have to know them?

“You can never make peace with grief, sweetie. You just work out a way to live with the war grief wages in your heart.”

And I have to learn how to live with what Jack did. Who he was and what he did to us all. Somehow, I have to live with it and move forward, for Katy's sake.

“All you have to do is love Katy with all your heart.”

You know I do, Henry. If that's all I have to do, I'll be fine, we'll all be fine.

Do I have to know the answers?

She looked up at the cloudless sky.

That man was wrong about the three presents. That was his way of making the brother he loved still alive and with him. I know that now. But that doesn't mean I can't pray to you.

Mom. Dad. Henry. Please, God, please. I'm praying now. Make Anna right. Make it not have happened. Make this be over. Make him be really dead.

Holly took a slug of coffee, walked upstairs to her bedroom, picked up her bag, took it with her into the bathroom, pulled out the pregnancy test and unwrapped it.

With special thanks to Siena Colegrave, Sam Shaw, Charlie Viney.

And if medals were awarded in their fields of expertise, David Miles, Hisham Hamed, Andrew Tutt, and David Ross would walk away with all of them—no contest.