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Back Darkest Truth Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. COVER
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. Acknowledgements

I got out of bed, went downstairs to the study and searched YouTube again for the Gill short film. I was right. The opening titles and credits were in a comic, cartoonish script. And the name of the film showed through when an animated desktop computer broke in jagged half revealing the words Another Bad Day at the Office. The badge was publicity material for Gill’s short film. That’s why the kids in the photos were wearing them. Gill must have distributed them at the workshop. And that’s why Deirdre had kept it. It was another connection. I wrote it up and, as I was awake anyway, checked the identity of the 1998 education officer – he had to be the other adult male in the photos. The name in the catalogue was Daniel O’Brien. I didn’t know him, so he had to be long gone from the festival.

I put the computer in sleep mode. In the hall, I glanced at the full-length rectangular window to the side of the front door. My reflection made it look like a dark figure was skulking in the tiny garden outside.

I went to the top floor. I pulled the Foxford blanket from the back of the sofa and walked to the armchair. I sat in the dark, facing due north, as I had earlier. No music played, and the room felt the wrong side of chilly, but I was too cold to get up and turn the heating back on. I curled my legs beneath me and arranged the blanket so that it covered me from the neck down.

First memory? Awake in the middle of the night, like now, but noisy, people sounds from the next room.

Laughing. Shouting. Doors slamming. A party?

Her voice.

Her.

My mother.

Me, a baby.

No. Bigger than that.

Not in a cot, in a bed, chairs lined up along the side. To keep me there.

Not so big.

Must keep eyes closed.

Must be asleep.

I heard my breath, mouth breath, shallow, and quick.

‘May I be safe,’ I whispered, the opening words of the Loving Kindness meditation.

‘May I be safe,’ I said again and again until my breath slowed and deepened. Then I remembered the rest of the mantra.

‘May I be safe, may I be healthy, may I be happy, may I live with ease,’ I said, repeating the words as I got up from the chair and got my yoga mat from the nook at the top of the stairs. I unfurled it slowly, and sat on the mat, cross-legged, eyes closed, breathing, nadi shodhana. As my strength returned, I moved through the quietening asanas, ending with savasana, corpse pose.

Then I went back downstairs and slept till morning.

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