Thursday's Child (12 page)

Niamh turned from his retreating figure to her brother. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

Liam shook his head slightly. “You spent the last two years blaming Jared for all of it. Having an open fireplace. Not getting the chimney swept often enough. Having a thatched roof. You even accused him outright of killing Dayna by hesitating too long before going to get her.”

Niamh’s stomach plummeted and her heart twisted. Physical pain shot through her as her hand rose to cover her mouth. No wonder he’d looked at her the way he had. “Oh…”

“That’s why he didn’t tell you. For the first time in two years you were speaking to him without hatred. OK, you don’t know who he is, but he’d lived with hatred for so long that he was prepared to do anything not to impede your recovery and probably keep the ‘nicer you’ around for a little longer.”

“What kind of a person was I?” She managed, sobs welling up from her broken heart. She leaned into her brother as he hugged her. “It’s no wonder he hates me. I hate myself.”

“Shh…” Liam whispered, rocking her. “He doesn’t hate you. No one does.”

“He should. If I could take back every hateful thought and word, even though I don’t remember them, I would. But it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late to put any of this right, I promise.”

“Did you mean what you said?” Jared spoke from the doorway.

Niamh raised her head. He looked as bad as she felt. “Yes, I did. It wasn’t your fault, and if I said it was before, then I am really, really sorry. You’re a firefighter. You knew what to do and how to do it. But more than that, you were her father. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. Or stand by and watch her die without trying to prevent it.”

Jared didn’t move. “That didn’t stop you saying all kinds of hateful things. You wanted me dead.”

She looked at him, overwhelmed with shock and horror. “Is that really what I said?” she whispered. “That you should have died instead of her because you didn’t save her?” His silence spoke volumes. Niamh’s stomach knotted further. “Please tell me I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, you did,” he whispered. “That’s why I moved into the spare room.”

“I’m so sorry.” She held out a hand to him. “I’m not asking for forgiveness, because I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” Jared said. He took her hand. “But I do forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll stay here for a few days, if that’s OK. Liam wants to redecorate before he puts the place on the market and moves in with Jacqui after the wedding. And I’m on downtime the next few days.”

Niamh shivered. He didn’t want to come back to the house. She didn’t blame him. She didn’t sound like a very nice person at all. Perhaps she’d pushed him too far, and he really had given up on her. “Sure, it makes sense and you’d be quicker with the decorating if you were staying here.”

Something flashed in his eyes for a moment. It could have been relief, but she hoped it wasn’t. A faint smiled crossed his lips. “I’ll drive you back to the house. Unless, you’d like to help me choose the paint first. You know Liam better than I do.”

“Sure, I can do that.” She looked at Liam. “If you trust me.”

Liam smiled. “Of course I do. You have wonderful taste in color and interior design. Just look at your place.”

“Maybe it was Jared.”

Liam snorted. “Jared thinks navy blue and bright pink are cool. I want to sell this place, not give it away.”

Jared sent Liam a hurt expression. “Can I help being color challenged?”

“No, but you tend to abuse it a fair bit.”

“Niamh, don’t let him be mean to me.”

“You’re a big boy, Jared and quite capable of defending yourself. But, I will help you choose the paint.”

Relief filled her as he smiled at her. Perhaps they could work through this. The thought of him not being around and being mad at her, made her feel more than uncomfortable. It was as if part of her was missing, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.

Help us work through this, Lord
, she prayed as they walked to the car.
And please, curb this tongue of mine. Let me think before I speak. And, Lord, help Jared see that what happened to Dayna wasn’t his fault. I was wrong to blame him for so long. Forgive me
.

She sat in the car, her fingers tracing the wedding ring on the chain around her neck.

Jared glanced at her. “I’m glad you’re still wearing it,” he said quietly. “Even if it isn’t on your left hand.”

“It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to lead you on. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does. I’m just happy you’re wearing it.” His smile gave him a wistful childlike look. “You wore it like that towards the end of your pregnancy.”

“Did I?”

“I offered to get it enlarged, but you refused. You put it on the chain until you’d had Dayna and could wear it again.”

“I was going to ask you about the necklace.”

“I gave it to you as a wedding present. The first night in the hotel. You still had your wedding dress on and we were jumping on the bed…”

Niamh laughed. “Jumping on the bed? Did we break it?”

“No, fortunately. And, yes, it was your idea. Anyway, we were jumping on the bed and finally flopped exhausted onto it. You rolled onto your side and then gave me the most beautiful pair of cufflinks I’ve seen. They were eighteen carat gold, with a tiny diamond and my initials on them. I gave you the necklace and you’ve never taken it off since.” His voice faltered. “I lost the cufflinks in the fire. I didn’t see the point in replacing them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He parked the car and looked out of the window at the huge DIY store. “It’s in the past. Now we just need to move on. If you want to, that is?”

“I’d like that. Now, let’s go get this paint. Sooner you start the sooner it’s done.”

10

Niamh made her way to the front door, balancing on one crutch to open it. She’d been home about an hour and just settled on the sofa with a movie she hadn’t seen on the TV and a large mug of tea in her hand. The man standing on her doorstep looked familiar. If it was who she was thinking of, he’d aged and looked sick. “Hello?”

The tall, stocky greying man smiled and held out a hand. “Hi, Niamh. I’m Alan Reynolds.”

She smiled. She was right—it was the man she remembered. He was her boss. Wow, but he’d gotten old. She shook his hand. “It is you. I thought I recognized your name on the emails, but you’d only just started at the CPS from what I remember. I didn’t think for one minute you’d be the director now. Please, come in. Can I get you some tea or coffee?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

She led the way down the hall and lowered herself into a chair. She leaned the crutches next to her. “So how are you? How’s Morag?”
I hope she’s still his wife
.

Alan sat opposite her with several case files on his lap. Sorrow flickered in his gaze as he opened his briefcase. “I’m fine. Morag’s not so good. She was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s a few years ago. It’s getting progressively worse.”

“I’m so sorry. That must be hard on you both.”

“It is. Now, in your email you mentioned coming back to work in the hope it would jog your memory a little. So, I brought a couple of your most recent cases over. I can’t leave them with you, obviously, but your notes and so on from your desk I can.” He handed them across to her.

She set the notebooks aside and leafed through the files asking questions as they came to her. She listened as he described her job and what she did all day long. It sounded the same as what she remembered, except she was doing the job her mentor, Toby Croft, had done.

“Was I really up for a judgeship? Jared mentioned it a couple of nights ago.”

“Yes. It’s quite an honor at your age.”

“I want to ask something. This file mentions death threats. Was this car crash related in any way?”

Consternation crossed Alan’s face. “Have the police not gotten back to you yet?”

“No. I gave them what statement I could, which was nothing really, but I haven’t heard anything. No one has.”

“Let me look into it for you. I know for a fact SOCO were investigating.”

“Thank you. What about coming back to work?”

“I, personally, don’t have a problem with you coming back as soon as you feel up to it, so long as the doctor has no objections. For obvious reasons, you can’t come back to exactly what you were doing before. Or to the same cases. However, Toby Croft is willing to help in any way he can.”

“Wow. Is Toby still there?”

Alan smiled. “He’s part of the furniture. If need be, he’ll take you on as his junior for a few weeks. We’ll assign you a few easy cases. Straight forward ones that won’t over exert you. Get you back into the swing of things gradually.”

Niamh baulked. “I’m not a child.”

“I’m not saying you are, Niamh, but you have forgotten—”

She cut him off. “I was fully qualified at twenty-six. You know that. OK, I may not remember how to be a senior prosecutor, but I’m not a rookie either. And I don’t need to be Toby’s junior assistant again, either.”

“I know that. But my concerns, and that of the bar, are that you
have
forgotten the last ten years. We just want to give you chance to relearn anything else you need to, ease back into the job. And Toby is best placed to help you with that. I know you don’t like the idea, but put yourself in my place. And in the shoes of the victims you’ll be getting justice for. If you were them, would you want the best prosecutor out there, or someone who can’t remember last month?”

Niamh nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should be grateful I still have a job at all, right?”

Alan winked. “I wouldn’t go that far. And it won’t be long before you’re back at the helm, full steam ahead. You’ll see.”

She handed him the files back. “I need to get back to work, and some semblance of normality, rather than sit here and mope all day long.”

“Come in on Wednesday. Have a chat with Toby and myself and we’ll see where we go from there. We’ll fit in with your hospital appointments, so don’t worry about that.”

****

Niamh spent the two days going through her online blog, trying to glean as much information about herself and her life from it as possible. She didn’t like what she read.

Am I really as mean as these entries make out, Lord? The hatred just spills from them. Even the case files Alan gave me. My notes are disparaging. I don’t like who I was. Help me change. And if my memories ever do come back, don’t let me become her again
.

Jared picked her up just after ten on Wednesday. She wasn’t going to admit it to anyone, but she’d missed his company the past couple of days. He held the door open as she climbed into the car. “There you go.”

“Thank you. How’s the decorating going?”

He winked. “Bit of a one person job to be honest.”

“Liam still useless?” she giggled.

“And the rest.” Jared laughed as he slid into the car beside her.

“He always was. Dad banned him from helping as there was always more paint on the carpet and on him than on the walls.”

“Sounds about right. How have you been?”

She remained silent.

“Niamh?”

She twisted in her seat. Reaching across, she laid a hand on top of his. “If I could take back every mean word I said to you, I would. I don’t know what I said, only that I hurt you very deeply. I can see that just by looking at you and hearing you speak. I’m really sorry. And yes, I know I said it before, but I still feel horrible. Reading this online journal I found, and emails I’ve sent, just made me feel worse. I wasn’t a very nice person. And not just to you either.”

He caught his breath. “There were times you were pretty mean, I’ll admit that. But you’re my wife and Liam and Patrick’s sister and we love you regardless.”

“The thing I don’t understand, is why?”

“Same reason God loves us even when we mess up.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

Jared parked outside the huge imposing grey and red brick offices of the CPS. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

Niamh raised an eyebrow. “Have you always been this much of a worry wart?”

“Yes. But worse today because you’re starting over.”

“Only technically. I know how to be a lawyer. I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “This is just a meeting to go over a few things, tell me who I’ll be working with and so on.”

“OK. I’ll come back at lunchtime and pick you up.”

“Sure, thanks. Shall I ring you?”

“No need. I’ll be here at one.”

“OK, thanks.” Niamh shot him a smile and slowly made her way up the stone steps and into reception. It even smelled the same. Her crutches tapped on the marble floor and echoed against the high vaulted ceiling.

The guard was on his feet before she was halfway across the lobby. “Mrs. Harkin, it’s lovely to see you again. How are you doing? We’ve all been so worried about you.”

She smiled. “I’m doing OK, Duncan. I didn’t expect to see you here still.” He’d been the guard when she first started working here.

“I’m part of the furniture now. The place would fall apart without me,” he joked.

“True. The boss should be expecting me.”

“Once you’ve signed in, I’ll let him know you’re on the way up.”

“Thank you.” Niamh signed her name in the huge book on the desk. “Is he still on the fourth floor?”

“He is.”

“Thank you.” She turned slowly and swung herself towards the elevators. She was getting quite fast on the crutches now, having mastered stairs, but there was a big difference between carpeted stairs at the house, and the stone ones she’d find here. As much as she hated elevators, it was the lesser of two evils. She pressed the button and waited.

The elevator came and she got in, pressing the button for the fourth floor. She watched the numbers change and as the elevator stopped, she exited the car and took a sharp left, straight into someone trying to get into the elevator. Papers flew everywhere and he gave out a sharp grunt. Niamh looked up, her cheeks burning. “Oh, I’m sorry—”