The Game Changer (18 page)

Waiting in the corridor, he pulled out his mobile phone. ‘Damn, no bloody signal.’ When the female member returned, she instructed him to follow her. Her tone didn’t encourage conversation. Close to the end of the linked corridors, she stopped, and he did too.

‘This section,’ the woman said, ‘is where the helpers stay.’ She opened a door to a room the size of a prison cell. Inside, there was a single cast-iron bed with a white cover, a wooden desk and chair, and a small window with iron bars. The furniture looked like it belonged in a Amish house. There was a matching chest of drawers
for his clothes, and a single lightbulb without a shade in the centre of the ceiling.

As if she was reading his mind, she said, ‘You will be sharing bathroom facilities with the other helpers. Most of them are male. Jason and Owen are Irish, Christopher and Alexander are American, Asan is from Dubai, and Karl is German.’

‘A regular United Nations.’

‘Sorry?’

He remembered Aoife’s warning about him not making fun of the members or the programme, so he said. ‘Ah, nothing – forget I said anything.’

The female member didn’t seem perturbed so she continued where she had left off. ‘There is a roster on the bathroom door. If you don’t put your name on it, you won’t get a bath. Any questions?’

‘What’s with the bars on the windows?’

‘This end of the buildings gets the worst of the island breeze. During a storm, we use the shutters, and we need the bars to keep them intact.’

‘Is there a separate toilet?’ he asked.

She didn’t answer him, at least not for a few seconds, and although he wasn’t sure at first, he soon grasped that she was sizing him up, giving him the full body check. His neck felt hot, and even though he told himself not to be daft. It was then that he noticed her staring at his neck, and it must have been really red, because she gave a wry smile. He looked away. She took a step closer, and he jumped back with more force than he’d intended.

‘Follow me,’ she said. ‘There is no need to be embarrassed – we’re all friends here.’

He glanced down at the lock on the door, noticing there wasn’t a key on either side.

Again, she knew exactly what he was thinking. ‘We don’t believe in locked doors here. We’re a community.’

Following the woman up the corridor, he saw Sarah come out of the room she had gone into earlier. She was some distance away, but
he could see that she was hunched over, and thought she was crying. He waved, but she turned her back on him, holding the doll closer to her chest, as if it might be in some kind of danger.

When Addy and his guide reached a wooden pine door with ‘Helpers’ Toilet’ painted on it in white, the woman said, ‘If you report to the entrance of the commune house in an hour, I will let you know your duties.’

KATE KNEW CHARLIE WOULDN’T BE HAPPY ABOUT going straight from school to Sophie’s house. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Sophie. She had been the family child-minder for at least three years, but with Kate taking time out, Sophie was now minding another child – Thomas, aged four. To Charlie, the age gap of three years was like an eternity, and no matter how Kate packaged it, he didn’t like it.

She got the police statement out of the way first, knowing, despite the argument with Adam, that it was the right thing to do. Her next call was going to be with Malcolm, and instead of phoning ahead, she decided to go directly to his office. It wasn’t that she thought Malcolm was behind the note, but she felt that he was another person who wasn’t being straight with her. His secretary was friendly when she arrived, but unimpressed when Kate insisted on seeing him, even though he had a busy schedule.

‘He won’t mind,’ she reassured the woman, and within moments, Malcolm was standing at his open office door.

‘Come in, Kate. Always good to see you.’

She didn’t reply, but followed him into the room. ‘Sit down, Kate. You look concerned. What’s the matter?’

‘I’m not completely sure.’

‘Oh?’

She stared at him, the man she’d known since childhood, the one who’d called so often to the house as a young college student that he’d seemed part of their family. He looked far more sophisticated now – tall, lean, his straight black hair cut tight, his skin tanned, impeccably dressed. For an instant, Kate tried to see him as he used to be, an untidy, enthusiastic twenty-something, who ate like he’d
never see food again. Finally, she said, ‘I understand DI O’Connor has spoken to you about the O’Neill investigation.’

‘Why, yes, Kate, he has. Is that an issue for you?’

‘You know that we’re …’

‘In a relationship?’ he replied, finishing her sentence.

‘Yes, we are, but that isn’t why I’m here.’

‘No?’

‘My visit isn’t about him. It’s about Michael O’Neill.’

‘Michael?’

‘I understand you two knew each other.’

‘Yes, we did.’

‘Did you know each other in 1988?’ She maintained eye contact, watching for any small alterations in expression.

‘I understand why that year is important to you.’

‘Did you know him then, or didn’t you?’

‘I had my reasons, Kate, for not giving the police the exact date of our first acquaintance.’

‘And what were they?’

‘I wanted to protect you.’

‘What from?’

‘Are you sure you want to hear this?’

‘Considering I don’t know what you’re going to say, no, I’m not sure, but I still want an answer.’

‘Okay, then.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I was an ex-student of Michael O’Neill’s, from his time as a lecturer. It was through Michael that I originally met your father. They were part of a group of academics who met on a regular basis in the late eighties.’

‘So?’

‘It was made up of men, mostly the same age as your father and Michael – early to late forties. I understand there was a selection committee who voted on membership approval.’

‘You were in your twenties then?’

‘That’s right, and far too young to be taken seriously, or to be part of any of their meetings.’

‘So they were all academics, professionals?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where did they meet?’

‘Various places, but it was rarely at the members’ homes.’

‘I’m assuming they met to discuss the issues of the day, or something like that.’

‘That’s how it was viewed.’

‘You sound as if you might have another opinion.’

‘The group may have gone beyond the original scope.’

‘I don’t follow you.’

‘Your father’s area was literature, others had different skill sets. It’s important that you realise, Kate, it was a different time back then.’

‘Yes, indeed, but you haven’t explained how they went beyond the original scope of the group.’

‘You’ve heard of Jean Piaget?’

‘You’re talking about the Swiss developmental psychologist?’

‘Yes. Piaget was known for his epistemological studies with children. His theory of cognitive development and epistemological view, linked together, are referred to as genetic epistemology.’

‘What has that to do with my father and this grouping?’

‘I’m getting to it. Piaget died in 1980, but his studies were of interest to the group. As with many other intellectuals at the time, they were concerned about the education system in Ireland, which was primarily controlled by religious orders. Piaget placed great importance on the education of children, declaring that it is only through education that societies can be saved from possible collapse.’

‘Okay, I follow you so far.’

‘I’ll cut to the chase, Kate. The goal of genetic epistemology is to link the validity of knowledge to the model of construction, showing how the knowledge is gained, thereby affecting its validity. It also examines how people develop cognitively from birth through the four primary stages, sensorimotor up to age two, pre-operational from age two up to seven, concrete operational, aged seven up to eleven, and formal operational from eleven years onwards.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Let me finish.’ He sighed, as if the next part of what he was about to say was difficult for him. ‘The group of academics that your father and Michael and, indeed, Tom Mason were associated with decided to conduct their own experiments. And before you ask, no, I don’t think there is any connection to Michael O’Neill’s suicide.’

‘The police think differently.’

‘Well, I’m not privy to that. You’ve asked me what I know and I’m telling you.’

‘Okay,’ she said, although everything felt very far from okay. ‘Are you saying they conducted some kind of education experiment on children?’

‘From what I can gather, and again, I emphasise I was on the periphery, it was deemed inappropriate to examine very young children, but a decision was made to look at boys and girls aged ten to fifteen. This age grouping would incorporate both the concrete operational phase and the formal phase leading into adulthood.’

‘I’m assuming, Malcolm, this was done with parental permission.’

‘As I said, Kate, it was a different time.’

‘That’s all very well, but we’re talking about children.’

‘Look, I’m not here to defend their decision, I’m merely trying to be upfront with you.’

‘You also said they went beyond the scope of the original brief.’

‘There were rumours.’

‘What kind of rumours, Malcolm?’

‘It was probably no more than idle gossip. Normally, I don’t condone this type of silly nonsense.’

‘Humour me.’

‘It was feared that some members may not have been as upstanding as they should have been.’

‘Like who?’

‘Michael O’Neill for one. It was thought he had a weakness for young boys, although there was never anything official on his
record, at least not to my knowledge. I doubt he would have been able to continue teaching as long as he did, if any dirt had stuck.’

‘What about my father? What was said about him? And before you try to mollycoddle your reply, if you’re worried about my feelings, don’t be. I’m only interested in the truth.’ Kate knew she was sounding more confident than she felt. A huge part of her wanted the floor to open up so she could bury herself and hide. She had no idea how she would react if Malcolm said anything bad about her father.

‘Kate, are you sure you’re okay? You’ve gone a sickly colour.’

‘I’m fine. I want the truth, nothing more.’

‘The truth is a precious commodity, Kate, and not always easy to determine, especially after the passing of time.’

‘Still, you must remember what was said.’

‘Dirt sticks, I know that.’ He paused. ‘There was something about a woman who made some wild accusations.’

‘What kind of accusations?’

‘It came to nothing in the end, but these things are complicated. Your father was a man of strong opinions, and he would have stacked up a number of enemies along the way.’

‘You’re saying people made up lies about him to damage him?’

‘It happens. We like to think the world is a fair place, but it isn’t always.’

‘Do you know the name of the person who made the allegations?’

‘I had an idea at the time, and if my guess was correct, she was a very sick woman, and by that, I mean she was mentally unstable. She died a number of years ago.’

‘What did my father do to her that she’d say something like that?’

‘Kate, if it’s okay with you, I’d prefer to stick to what I know, rather than some kind of wild conjecture.’

‘I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell all this to DI O’Connor? Why did you think you were protecting me?’

‘It was probably stupid, but I didn’t want all this nastiness to come out and affect you in any negative way. I know things are difficult for you right now. Plus, I had a fondness for your father.
If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be the man I am today. I didn’t want any of that old nonsense rising to the surface, especially when it wasn’t relevant.’

‘You need to let the police decide what’s relevant.’

‘I know, you’re right, Kate. As I said, it was stupid of me. I’ll rectify the situation as soon as we finish here.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘Kate, are you sure you’re fine? You really don’t look well.’

‘Don’t I?’

‘What is it? Have you been having more memory recalls?’

‘I don’t remember telling you about that.’ Her head felt woozy. ‘Don’t you? It was the other day, when we were talking about your journal writing, you were saying it was bringing some strange stuff up, things that made you fearful.’

‘I remember now.’ She wanted to throw up.

‘You do understand, Kate, that despite the mind being infinitely resourceful, it’s still capable of making mistakes. The more your recollections are encouraged, and kept within the safety of the internal cognitive processes, the better the outcome. Outside influences, especially those that cannot be fully relied upon, are best avoided.’ He frowned. ‘You don’t think I had anything to do with Michael O’Neill’s death, do you?’