Guilty (8 page)

Caroline found herself taking the flower and sniffing it, genuinely hoping to find is fragrance. How much more could she cope with in this unreal world?

Sadie just would not learn a lesson. If she misbehaved at a party Caroline would take her off home. Sadie wouldn’t burst into tears but carefully stated, “It was boring anyway,” and the problem was that she meant it. It wouldn’t act as a deterrent –Sadie paid no attention whatever to deterrents.

Caroline had tried retribution. It felt cruel but maybe if Sadie just got a taste of her own medicine she would behave, but was it really acceptable to bite your own child? Reform – she tried to reason with the girl but Sadie always had in her mind some justifiable excuse why she should have behaved as she had.

Apart from times with her family, she seemed to lack empathy and she had total disrespect for authority. A mad, shouting teacher would reduce most children to a shivering heap of tears, not Sadie. She would just stare at the lunatic quite coolly and if possible, turn and walk away.

Caroline had tried reparation. If Sadie scribbled on one of the children’s work she would get her to copy it out again at night to give back to the child next day. It took a lot of coaxing to get her to complete the work. However when Sadie was given time to reflect she would usually do the thing that pleased her precious mother.

*

Bri straightened himself, acknowledging that Caroline would not have an inkling about all of his thoughts today. She would assume he would be head down, lost in his business affairs, as Richard hopefully also assumed.

His mind switched to Simon and he realised he had never previously questioned Simon’s lack of input into these early problem years with Sadie. There was a ghostly blank where a father’s rule of authority would surely have made a difference. Anger stirred in Bri’s heart as for the first time ever he questioned if Simon was somehow to blame for all this?

The school tried its best but it was a small village school with just over forty children aged 4–11 and only two teachers. They sent to the local education authority for Sadie to be assessed. These things took ages and meanwhile the teacher’s suggestions hinted that Caroline and Simon needed to check their parenting skills. Had they thought of getting Sadie a pet in order for her to gain some feeling of responsibility? Caroline rushed out and bought a hamster. Had they made rules and consequences clear to Sadie?

“You bet,” Caroline replied and then they raised eyebrows, concerned that her discipline was too strong? They wanted to know why Sadie bit the other children and Caroline would stare back at them bemused thinking, “Well, you know what, I was wondering the very same thing, funnily enough!”

Was she overindulged, did she get enough sleep, did she get enough attention, perhaps an active hobby would redirect her energies? They only had to hint at something and Caroline would be right there trying to check it out, to put it into action.

Sadie would sit on Caroline’s knee for hour,s twiddling her hair and Caroline would lie in bed hugging her to sleep. If Sadie saw her brothers in tears she would show them the same loving hugs she had been given by Caroline.

Caroline had tried so hard to nurture Sadie. Bri, now in his hindsight years, thought of Caliban in
The Tempest
. Caroline had managed to get the little infant to concentrate and settle to jigsaws with the bribe of sweets. He smiled to himself as now in his adult perception he could understand how the sugar levels could have counterbalanced the jigsaw effort! Give Caroline her due though because she had the little girl reading before she even started school and as she had a summer birthday she was barely four and could read whole pages. Years later, the frustrated Caroline had explained to Bri one day, when she had just learnt one of Sadie’s primary peers had qualified as an accountant, how she would always ensure Sadie was ahead of all the other students in the class. If she did manage to get one to come for tea she would search in their school bag to check Sadie was at last one reading book ahead of them!

In later years, Bri had researched so many conditions in order to try and identify the root cause of Sadie’s problems. His detective skills had followed on from Caroline’s own determined research. She had dragged Sadie off to all sorts of tests, having her tested for allergies to food colouring or E-numbers, desperately trying to find a physical cause for the disruptive, aggressive behaviour.

Eventually Caroline convinced Simon that Sadie would be better off at a more structured school, where discipline was more traditional and there was more space to run around, more children to find friends among and where Sadie could get a fresh start. She was quite a clever little thing and so they decided to send her to a private school which charged an arm and a leg for the privilege. Caroline had to find a job to pay the fees.

Guilt again! It would mean childcare for the boys before and after school and it would not be possible to fund a private education for them too. Even now Bri felt resentful about this as the plush accent Sadie had mimicked from her posh friends would have set him in good esteem in his line of business as would the private education and its fruits on his CV.

The first few months had seemed successful as Sadie worked her way through the various friendship circles. There were tea invitations and they were returned a couple of times.

The film of memories reeled on. It was a bit like watching repeats – always the same old cycle – Sadie who just would not conform and who was constantly rejected by society. No good reliving the past, he boldly decided, straightening his tie, brushing his jacket. A plan. He needed to make a plan. Caroline’s anguished face floated before him. First stop – she needed to know he was on her side, that he wasn’t the cruel, callous son she thought he was. Surely that knowledge would help her find a more stable state of mind. All through the trial he had been researching determinism, excuses for her, was she pre-programmed to act as she did? Was it no fault of hers that she had turned to murder? He had made extremely detailed notes which he stored on his laptop. Now, perhaps, they would aid his appeal.

Practical help was best. He would get that appeal if it was the last thing he did.

Finance! He knew it wold take a small fortune to get the top lawyer and Bri only did top. A simple decision. He’d sell his Porsche. A bike would see him to work and back. No point procrastinating. He logged on straight away: “Quick car cash.” “Sell that car” he googled.

A quick sale was essential. He wanted to have cash upfront to support his plans so he could give Caroline the actual product – a lawyer, an appeal date, a hope and a long-lost loving son. He saw Richard’s bulk hovering outside the opaque glass as his booming voice shot commands down the corridor, hand on the brass handle, his weight bearing down, slowly forcing it open. Bawling complete, he strolled in.

“What’s your input been like, Bri, this last half hour? Spot work output check, Bri. You know how it is, Bri, in this company – quality assurance, top of the list . . . Spot check on output. We just need evidence for our files from time to time!”

Bri loathed the creep.

“Play him at his own game. Bat him straight back,” he calmed himself.

“Course, Dick (under his breath “Dickhead”), been researching.”

“Great, won’t mind then if I have a quick search of your history?”

Bri slipped his armour of arrogance back on.

“Help yourself, Richard. I’ll just pop down to chat with Rob. He was quite worked up at lunch – got some bloody idea that Ali’s cheating on him. You might notice the odd legal search but I know you’ll be pleased I’m trying to support the senior management team.”

He thumped the air in triumph as he left. No harm in letting Dick know he was onto him and Ali!

“Come for coffee, lad,” Rob patted him on the back.

Lost in a cricket debate as they crossed the road to claim their usual Starbucks sofa, Bri was hit.

A large, red lorry screeched into his flailing body at the exact same moment as Dick was reading emails about the sale of a red Porsche.

“Bastard,” he thought, “using work time to up his car.”

8.

Oliver hadn’t taken any holidays for ages as he was saving them up in order to come home for several months. He had planned to share his news with them in person. Looked like this was that time! It was incredibly generous of Bri, quite out of character. He’d even refused all Oliver’s insistence that he’d pay the air fare back when he could. Maybe they’d all got Bri wrong these last few years. Bri had excelled – it would be a massive surprise for Caroline. Oliver had been over the moon with Bri’s suggestion to upturn every stone in order to get an appeal against Sadie’s life sentence. Oliver acknowledged they had to be realistic – she would still have to serve years but life – well, maybe that was something they could successfully quash.

As Oliver packed, it was his turn to mull over the turbulent upbringing with Sadie. Always the positive one, Oliver’s brain brought all her more constructive moments to the surface.

Grandma Doris, almost bent double, small hump, still wore a smile every second of the day. Her mind had worn out before her body. The evidence had very slowly revealed itself. The odd throwaway comment which raised eyebrows.

“I didn’t know I was staying,” when they arrived at the holiday bungalow. Scratched heads as Granddad wondered if he was going mad. Why else had they got two bulging suitcases? Her reminisces from the wedding day. Stories she told of her mother-in-law who apparently had stolen cash from the offertory at the back of the church – totally untrue, but then Granddad did have a faint recollection that a choirboy was accused of that deed on that date fifty years ago. Bri and Oliver had found Grandma’s increasing misconstrued perceptions highly amusing but Sadie had shown nothing but sympathy and respect.

Sadie became Grandma’s little shadow. Sadly, Grandma’s dementia took hold quite strongly. She would strip off; constantly try to escape from her perceived captors. Caroline had been heartbroken by the demise of her mother. Doris seemed to be trapped in a mental time warp, aged twenty-one. Raised very strictly, she didn’t condone sex before marriage. As she married at twenty-three, the time arrived when she no longer recognised Granddad. She refused to get into bed at night with this man. “I am not a whore.”

Doris was distressed in case her mother would wonder where she was, so doors were kept locked to prevent her escaping, to go wandering. But then she would be up at the windows trying to shout to passing strangers that she had been kidnapped; on a couple of occasions the police did actually arrive.

Oliver would enter a room to find Sadie, patiently explaining to Grandma Doris that her mother was dead, that Granddad was her husband. She would show her wedding photos, pictures with baby Caroline to try to reignite some memory, only to be told “That’s not me,” every time Sadie tried to work her magic. This was the occasion in her life where she never gave up, where she outshone her siblings and peers. Sadie appeared to have a heart of gold but it was encased in lead.

Knowing now what the world and his wife knew from all the press coverage, even sweet and innocent Oliver couldn’t help but look back, wondering if there had been manipulation behind Sadie’s extreme kindness to her grandparents. At the time, he had no inkling that there could have been an ulterior motive, but now as he threw his final essentials into his hand luggage he began to ponder. He recalled the odd throwaway comment, especially the afternoon when the pubescent Sadie had suddenly received a phone call from one of her “friends”. As she entered adolescence she did begin to get more involved with a social life. She proudly called them “me mates” when the undesirables knocked for her. Caroline would try and get to the door first, fob them off with tales of homework which needed doing, tea on the table, “Oh we’re just off out in a few moments,” but if Sadie got home first she would just leave with them, so eager and desperate to be accepted by them that she didn’t even have time to grab a jacket. There had been the sojourn at Josh’s house for several months when she was fourteen. The aim had been to give Caroline and Simon some respite as cracks from the strain of raising Sadie began to show in their marriage.

On this particular afternoon Sadie had been in her Florence Nightingale role caring for Nana Doris. Oliver had convinced himself that he had misheard through the heavy oak door of Nana and Granddad’s kitchen as she spoke into the receiver:

“Yeah, give me a few seconds. I’m just feeding the old bag. I’ll bin the rest and be right with you.”

Oliver had run in to find Nana Doris on her hands and knees searching in the bin. Sadie had known the young Oliver’s weaknesses, his kindness of spirit, his inability to argue or cause a confrontation. She had known she was safe to leave him in charge as she had skipped off. Granddad had been so appreciative of Sadie’s apparent care over the preceding months that he had gone out and bought her the latest computer as a special thank you.

Those adolescent years had seen Sadie start to spiral more out of control. In desperation Caroline had gone to their GP, dragging Sadie with her. This had led to the whole family having to embark on family therapy. Oliver just recalled the thrill of an afternoon off school, the PlayStation games he got to play on at the family centre. Oliver cringed now as an adult when he recalled the sessions. Wishing he could erase them, he whipped the zip across his travel bag.

All five of them had to spend time together interacting in a room with a two-way mirror. Observing from the other side was a team composed of psychologists, doctors and social workers. They had all hated the falseness of it all. Sadie’s true colours would not reveal themselves in such a set-up; her manipulation ensured she played to the crowd, prompting suggestions that the root cause of all her problems must have their source in poor parenting.

Time off work for Caroline and Simon to attend all the family counselling sessions had been very painful. The emotion and pain of baring their souls yet again to therapists, knowing that there would be no real answer. Maybe there would be no comfort.

Parenting suggestions, a listening ear, there wasn’t much on offer but then, what had they expected? There wasn’t a dose of medicine for curing “brat-like” behaviour. Caroline had been hoping for Ritalin – surely Sadie must have ADHD; she hoped such medication would be the miracle cure needed to turn their demon into an angel. Although she displayed many of the symptoms, apparently the glove wasn’t an exact enough fit.

Medication was what Caroline had wanted for Sadie – a quick fix for the family which was beginning to fall apart at the seams. Oliver acknowledged that this must have been when Caroline started to self-medicate. At first it was a glass of wine during the evening on the return from each session, when she would try to discuss the latest suggestions with Simon. She’d open a bottle, slip off her shoes and try to snuggle next to him on the sofa but he’d had his fill of the psychology stuff. All this delving wasn’t normal; he decided to leave Caroline and her wine bottle to a bit of peace and quiet while he went off to the pub, not so much for the alcohol but for the macho company of ordinary men, doing ordinary things.

*

“Sweet Caroline”, his latest ringtone, interrupted his rambling thoughts. “Hi Mom!” He always answered her calls so cheerily – anything he could possibly do to lighten her load.

“Say it again, Mum,” he’d grown accustomed to these tearful phone calls when he couldn’t decipher her latest traumatic account.

“Bri, what’s wrong with Bri?” The distance and her distress was making communication incredibly difficult.

Stunned, he dropped the phone. His brother on life support. The family certainly had the backdrop of a soap opera! How much more could one family take?

His emotions were already completely frayed but somehow the miles numbed the pain a little. Sadie had never set foot in Australia, as had none of the family, so in some ways he had been able to nest in a cocoon where, just for the odd moment, he could escape from their problems but now he was about to fly right into them!

“I’m leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes,” he managed to steady his voice. “Mum, hold on, I’ll sort it. Remember, never fear, Oliver is near.” A chill ran down his spine as he recited the phrase that he had kept from Grandma Doris’ pre-dementia days. It had been her way of comforting the once timid little boy whenever he felt he couldn’t face something. Nowadays he knew it always brought a faint degree of comfort to Caroline. It was trash now, however, in a moment like this – almost blasphemous.

He paused to kiss the photo of his love that he had to leave behind. He tenderly stroked the image. They had said their goodbyes last night as they had lay entwined in the aftermath of passionate love-making. If only they could be making this journey together Oliver would have had so much more strength, but teachers were tied to term time and they had to accept reality that Oliver must travel alone.

The passport controller double-checked Oliver’s photo – the waxen, pale face, the staring eyes barely resembled the healthy young man staring up from the passport. Oliver was hardly capable of speaking.

As he fastened his seat belt he wondered how his body would react. Would he sleep during the arduous flight or was he to be robbed of that escape route?

The latter seemed to be the case as he tossed and turned under the airline blanket. The hairs on his neck rose as he remembered why Bri was flying him over. They were going to work together on the appeal.

Bri was the brains, the one with the left-sided brain functions. Oliver’s brain was as right as could be. He didn’t do order or logic. Bri was the analytical, objective one. Give Oliver a self-assembly wardrobe and he’d just open the pack, scratch his head and ask around for the number of an odd-job man. Bri, on the other hand, would meticulously open the packaging with a knife, carefully avoiding tearing any of it in case of needing to return it.

He’d straighten out the instructions and prepare all the screws and planks of wood into organised piles. The instructions which were double-Dutch to Oliver were simplified reading material for the likes of Bri. He’d carefully hoover up all the fine wood shavings after the item was erected.

Oliver hadn’t got a clue where to start with an appeal and what’s more hadn’t really got the slightest interest in appealing.

Of course he wanted to help Sadie, but it was black and white. She’d murdered her birth dad, totally unprovoked, so what more was there to appeal about? Oliver had only agreed to it because that’s what he always did with Bri – just go along with whatever he wanted. Things always went right for Bri. That’s what made this latest news seem so wrong – Bri wasn’t the sort to have accidents. He was always so very careful.

*

Blimey, Caroline looked awful but what did he expect? Oliver asked himself, as he took her in his arms. Simon had surprised him by coming out of his refuge for once to support his ailing family. They shook hands. Oliver immediately noticed Simon’s twitching eyes and that the stammer had returned as he enquired politely about his journey. Typical of Dad to try to talk about insignificant things.

The deep bond between Oliver and Caroline meant that they could read each other’s body language. Their hug was eternal. Simon felt embarrassed – why all the emotional show, but to Oliver and Caroline that hug spoke more than a thousand words.

Squatting at Bri’s head all three felt completely helpless. Oliver was shell-shocked, jet-lagged, totally exhausted, but sleep had evaded him throughout the tedious flight. The joy of seeing his family again awakened some of his emotions that time and distance had anaesthetised. His heart also ached longingly for his Australian lover.

Simon found himself dreaming up suitable excuses to leave. His retreat was necessary to his mental survival. The tics had now taken control of his neck and arms and he was finding it difficult to disguise the jerks.

Caroline had chest pains but she wasn’t going to tell the others. One thing about Caroline was that she was no longer a drama queen these days.

The prognosis was not good. The doctors and nurses were kind but blunt.

“We usually advise families in situations like this to consider if and when they might agree to life support being switched off if we have no positive results. You might like to read some of our leaflets about organ donation. We will conduct more tests yet and consult further opinions but we do not want to raise false hopes.”

Caroline insisted that Oliver should return home with her and would not give in to his pleas to stay at the hospital.

Eventually sleep took Oliver in her arms and worked her gentle magic, providing inspirational dreams. Oliver couldn’t remember them clearly in the morning but he did wake determined. First he must catch up on all his texts. The time difference was going to make live chat difficult but he would ensure Skype was active later. He was missing their tenderness so very much. Tears filled his eyes. They had only been apart for just over forty-eight hours; how were they going to face the hundreds of hours yet to come?

Bri’s boss had given Caroline Bri’s iPad. Steve had helped her find her way around this latest piece of technology. Her Sherlock streak had encouraged her to piece together his notes and contacts.

It became obvious to her about his intent to appeal, his search for legal representation and advice. She now understood his need to sell his prized car. These revelations both comforted and destroyed her as she finally saw what Bri had pined for her to see – that her lovely kind-hearted son was still there beneath all the sham layers of wealth and success.