Chapters (81)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- Forty-seven
- Forty-eight
- Forty-nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-one
- Fifty-two
- Fifty-three
- Fifty-four
- Fifty-five
- Fifty-six
- Fifty-seven
- Fifty-eight
- Fifty-nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-one
- Sixty-two
- Sixty-three
- Sixty-four
- Sixty-five
- Sixty-six
- Sixty-seven
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Read More
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Follow Merilyn online
- Dedication
‘When Joanne came back,’ I finish for him, triumphantly. ‘So if we get rid of her, we get things back to how they were again.’
He looks at me sadly. Where is Aoife? I see his eyes glide over the table, resting on my phone. He pulls his from his back pocket and nods to mine. ‘Turn it off.’
‘What?’
‘They’ll be able to trace where we are, so turn it off.’
I nod and do as I’m told, but suddenly Aoife is back and she’s angry.
‘Don’t tell her what to do. We’ve both had enough men telling us what to do and look where that got us,’ she snaps.
‘Where is Joanne now, Mary?’
‘Don’t tell him,’ Aoife says. ‘Just get outside and dig the hole.’
I stand.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I have to dig a hole.’
He stares at me. ‘For what?’
‘Joanne.’
Gerry stands. ‘For fuck’s sake, Mary, this is ridiculous.’
‘Aoife and I just want to start our lives again, lives as they should have been.’
‘Aoife and you?’
‘Yes.’
He studies me for what seems like ages before shaking his head and grabbing a wine glass. ‘I don’t know what to do any more. All these years I’ve stood by you, protecting you, and now I’m honestly at a loss as to how to help you.’
I’m unsure which of us he means.
‘Stood by us both,’ I correct. Gerry stares at me from over the rim of the wine glass. He’s drinking mouthfuls as if it’s squash. Aoife won’t like that. She doesn’t like a drunk, Gerry should know that.
‘So what are you going to do now, now that you have Joanne?’ He places the half-empty wine glass on the table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Kill her, of course,’ Aoife replies.
‘Kill her, of course,’ I repeat.
‘And then what? You’re just going to ride off into the sunset and believe the police won’t come after you?
‘Mary?’
I’ve been lost in thought, unsure what Aoife intends us to do after we bury her. ‘Yes?’
‘Joanne is Aoife’s baby, she’s her child. And Aoife agreed for her to be your child too. Joanne is your baby, my love. Do you not remember holding her in your arms and begging me not to take her from you?’
I do remember. Like I remember all the other babies I lost as punishment for keeping her alive. ‘All my babies are dead, Gerry, you know that.’ I hold his stare. ‘They’re buried at the bottom of the garden without so much as a funeral. Four little bodies, neatly lined up in a row.’
‘Joanne’s not dead.’
‘And that’s worse because she, of all of them, deserves to be dead.’
‘No person deserves to die because of how they were conceived.’