Familiar Strangers Read online

  And then I can only sit here, unable to unwrap the bundle by my side. I place it in my lap. This is what she wanted me to find. This is where my story starts.

  What happened here? How did this baby end up in the dog’s grave? Did Mom kill the baby? Is it the other Rebecca Sarah Wall, who was on born 13^th^ March 1991? With my hand resting on the corpse, my world spins before me. If this is true, then everything I have known up to now is a lie. My family. My name. Me. Am I that girl in the picture? The little one with the tuft of hair sticking up? The pink coat – is it mine? Did Mom abduct me?

  I took you, Becca. You’re not my daughter.

  Unable to move out of this freshly dug grave, I cry.

  With little energy left, I pull the bundle closer. There are a lot of answers in that bundle, wrapped in plastic, waiting to be freed. But where do I start? Mom won’t be able to tell me anything. Does Dad even know what went on? He was away that year, the first year of my life. Did Mom do this without him?

  The rain has stopped. Everything is calm now, the clouds drifting slowly in the brightening sky. I’m getting to my feet when I sense someone standing behind me.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Danny’s face is whiter than the moon. His eyes are wide with fear. He says nothing as he reaches down to me, offering to help me stand. But I don’t want his help. Pushing his hand away, I scramble to my feet.

  ‘Is that me?’ I say, pointing at the bundle by my feet. ‘Is that me?’ I shout again, moving my face closer to his.

  Danny isn’t answering. He knows. I punch him on the arm, then the other arm, kick his shins. ‘Tell me, is it me?’ I cry, thumping my hands into his chest. He pulls me close to him, gripping my arms, disabling the attack. Danny is shaking, I can feel his body against mine. His arms hold me tight, too tight.

  ‘Let me go,’ I shout, wriggling out of his grip. Then I look him straight in the eye. ‘Did you know?’ I say.

  He answers with a slow nod. My legs buckle, I’m going to collapse. I feel like someone is pushing down on my head, trying to squeeze me down into the soil. I’m going to puke. My mouth fills, my head jerks, and I remember the bundle lying by my feet. I turn my head to avoid it and throw up all over Danny’s shoes.

  The next few minutes pass in a blur. Danny is holding me again, running his hand though my mud-caked hair. I still haven’t heard him speak. Pulling back, I wipe my runny nose on the sleeve of my jacket. Danny holds out his hand, wanting me to take it. But how can I? I don’t know who he is. Suddenly I feel afraid; am I going to die too? He obviously knows what went on, there’s no surprise for him in my revelation. I need to get out of here. Run, Becca, run. I turn and run for the gate at the side of the house. Danny follows, calling out my name.

  ‘Becca, wait, come back.’

  The gate won’t open. I’m pulling on the handle but it’s locked. Danny reaches me before I have time to bolt for the open kitchen door. So I jump and grab the top of the gate, pulling my legs up behind me. Danny grabs me, pulls me back down, but I kick and kick.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ I scream. ‘Get away, get away.’

  Danny doesn’t let go. He draws me down into his grip again, where I stand shaking, fearing for my life.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ I cry. My body feels under siege in his arms. ‘Don’t kill me, Danny.’ I have unearthed a dark secret, one that could destroy Danny’s perfect world. I am now a threat to him.

  ‘What?’ he says, pulling back so I can see his face. ‘Kill you? Becca, I love you, I would never do anything to harm you.’ Tears flow down his face. I can see he is shocked by what I said. But what does he expect? I’m living a nightmare, anything is possible. But I believe he isn’t going to hurt me.

  The tension evaporates, leaving me feeling weak. Danny takes my hand and walks me up the backyard, into the kitchen.

  ‘Does Dad know?’ I say, wiping my face with the paper towels by the sink. The mud covers the paper, sheet by sheet, as I clean what I can from my face and hands. Danny doesn’t answer me.

  ‘Sit down, Becca,’ he says, pulling out a chair. Giving me orders again.

  ‘No. I want to stand.’ I don’t actually want to stand.

  ‘Okay,’ he says, sitting down himself.

  The kitchen feels different, not like my family home. Everything is in the same place but it’s like the walls have shifted slightly. They haven’t, of course, but it’s how I feel. Like I’m standing on the set in a theatre. Everything in its place to fool the audience into believing that this world is real.

  Parched, I reach for the glass on the table in front of Danny, empty its contents and fill it with fresh water. At least the tap works. Then I stand against the sink, glass in hand, and stare at Danny.

  ‘Becca, we need to talk.’ Danny is struggling to hold his head up. My eyes are fixed on his, waiting for him to tell me something, anything, to make sense of this crazy world I find myself in.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?’ he says. This time I do. I pull out a chair and plonk myself at the far side of the table. ‘Rebecca, something awful happened.’

  Danny’s voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere miles away, echoing in my head. He lets out a long deep sigh, runs his hands through his wet hair, then keels forward, resting his arms on the table. His eyes are crying without tears. I can see the pain etched across his face, pulling and dragging at the Danny I know. The Danny I thought I knew. The silence after he speaks is choking. Invisible hands, squeezing my throat, pulling at the collar of my shirt. I look upwards and take breath after breath after breath.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he says, but I don’t answer. I don’t have to answer him anymore. When I feel calm enough to continue, I let my gaze meet his again.

  ‘Becca,’ he says, moving his hand across the table as if waiting for me to hold it. He can wait. ‘It was me.’ My heart stops, my eyes freeze on his.

  ‘It was you what?’ I say, not wanting to hear the answer.

  ‘I killed the baby, Becca.’

  * * *

  I want to ask him how he killed the baby, why he killed the baby, but I can’t speak. Danny is banging his forehead on the kitchen table.

  ‘I wanted you to know,’ he cries, still banging.

  ‘I wanted to tell you years ago but everything was so… so…’ Words fail him. He is looking at me, waiting for some sort of response. I lick my lips.

  I don’t know how long we’ve been sitting here, truth festering in the air between us. Eventually I find the will to speak but all I can say is, ‘Why?’

  Danny stares at the wall as if the answer is written there. Then he moves his demented stare to me. His eyes are full of fear.

  ‘It was an accident, Becca. I was only three years old.’

  His words fall like acid onto my soul.

  ‘I didn’t know what I was doing, you have to remember that. I was three years old when it happened.’ Danny keeps reminding me of his age, it must be his excuse, his reason for surviving the ordeal. He was so young.

  ‘Rover died, we came downstairs one morning and found him lying on his back on the floor, motionless. Dad was away with the army, so we dug a grave, Mom and I, at the end of the yard, under the tree. It was evening time, still bright but getting shadowy.’

  His voice cracks, he’s finding it hard to release the truth. Turning his head away from me he looks towards the window, staring into space.

  Am I going to be able to handle this? Will I survive the truth? Should I ask him to stop? But I need to know what happened.

  ‘I remember feeling sad,’ he says. ‘That Rover was gone… but I also remember enjoying digging that hole with Mom. Well, she dug, I helped with my toy shovel. Then she wrapped Rover in a bag and placed him in the hole and said prayers over him. I felt really important, like an adult. It was my first taste of responsibility, digging that grave.’

  What the fuck is he talking about?

  ‘Remember Becca, I was only a child…’

  M
y head is thumping. Reaching into my bag, I search for some Advil but find none. Rubbing my temples, I close my eyes and pray for some relief. Danny continues.

  ‘The following day Mom asked me to watch you while she took a bath… It feels wrong saying you, it wasn’t you, you’re still here… Mom asked me to watch over the baby. She was asleep in the crib and I guess Mom expected her to stay asleep. And she did, but when I looked into the crib I saw a motionless baby lying there, and thought…’

  He puts his hands in his hair, tearing at it in clumps, howling in pain. ‘I’m so sorry, Becca. I thought she was dead too, she was lying just like the dog on her side, I couldn’t see her breathe.’

  My head spins. I’m going to be sick again. Jumping up from the chair I rush to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Wiping my hands and face, I stare in the mirror.

  ‘Hello, Louise.’

  * * *

  When I get back to Danny, his head is resting on the table between his praying hands. I resume my position on the other side of the table. He looks up as I sit down.

  ‘So what happened?’ I say.

  Danny looks around the room, but there’s no escape.

  ‘I decided to bury her, before Mom came back down the stairs. So I dug up Rover’s grave, the clay was still soft, moved easily with my toy shovel. Then I put the baby into the hole and covered her with the clay.’

  Jesus Christ, Danny buried the baby alive, he buried the fucking baby alive. The room shifts slightly, forcing me to focus my eyes on the empty cup in the middle of the table to maintain my balance. There isn’t enough air in here. Danny is holding his head in his hands, eyes closed. This is unbelievable.

  ‘What did Mom do?’ I say.

  ‘She screamed and screamed, dug her up, begged God to let her be okay, promising Him everything if he kept Rebecca alive. But it was too late.’ Danny’s face is barely recognizable as he speaks.

  ‘I was standing behind her, bawling. At this stage I knew I had done wrong, that the baby had only been asleep… I can still see her.’ Dropping his head back he looks upwards. ‘Mom, blowing into her mouth, pressing on her tiny chest… Then lifting her, squeezing her tightly to her chest, kissing her head, kissing her legs, kissing her eyes. She held her for what seemed like forever. Until we were disturbed by a noise at the side gate. When I turned around Bert Ryan was standing there. He walked away when he saw me looking.’

  ‘Did Bert do anything?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing, not until he gave me that pink coat.’

  ‘Why was he there? Did he often call to the house?’

  ‘All the time when Dad was away, usually at night after I was sent to bed. He and Mom would talk for hours.’

  My mind is racing here. Why did Bert used to call so often? Were he and Mom… no, don’t go there Becca. No, do go there Becca.

  ‘Why was Bert always in the house, Danny? Were they having an affair?’

  By the expression on his face, Danny has only just thought of that.

  ‘I doubt it, Becca. Bert is an old man.’

  ‘He wasn’t old then, he was twenty-five years younger.’

  Danny’s gaze falls to the table. Rubbing his hair, he lifts his eyes. ‘Jesus, maybe that’s what Mom had on him. Maybe he…’ He stands, then walks over to the sink. His mouth is open but he’s lost for words.

  ‘Why else would Bert say nothing?’ I say. ‘Mom must have threatened to tell Edith.’

  Shaking his head, he turns around. I can tell he is digesting my words.

  ‘We know she had no problem lying, Danny. She lied to me forever, every day, holding me, kissing me, pretending I was hers.’

  ‘This is a fucking mess,’ he says, moving back to the table. ‘He must have taken the coat out of the trash the night we came back with you. It was late, I remember the house being in darkness and Mom saying not to switch the lights on. She bathed you by candlelight, then put you in Becca’s clothes, throwing your clothes into the trash.’

  ‘Came back from where?’ I say.

  ‘The trip,’ Danny says. ‘The one we took to get you.’

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Danny switches on the light, chasing away the darkness.

  ‘It was early the following morning when she came into my room and told me we were going away for a while,’ he says. ‘She never said how long, but as I watched her pack all my clothes and toys I began to think we were not coming back. I sat on the bed crying… she told me everything would be okay, that I would love where she was taking me. But I could tell she was lying. I remember the pajamas I was wearing, the green army ones. I asked her would Dad know where to find us when he came back but she didn’t answer, just continued to shove everything into the case that she’d opened at the bottom of the bed. “Everything is going to be okay” she kept repeating but I could tell she didn’t believe it. Her nerves were obvious in the speed at which she was moving. Hurrying to get away. Like she was trying to escape. I told her I didn’t want to go but she just kept packing. “It won’t be forever,” she said, but I didn’t believe her.

  ‘When she had everything in the car we left. Mom drove for what felt like hours and hours. Saying very little, her eyes wide as she focused on the road ahead of her. Stopping only to take money out of bank machines. Eventually it got dark and she booked us into a motel for the night.

  ‘The following morning we got back into the car and traveled for most of the day, pulling into another motel that evening. The sun was still strong when she took me for a walk. I can still remember how it burnt into my skin as we passed through, what looked to me, like a real scary place. I was nervous but afraid to say anything. I could sense she was worried, gripping my hand tightly, pulling me along the pathway.

  ‘We came to a road that had all different kinds of homes, mostly trailers, some small wooden houses. The place was dirty, trash everywhere, bits of furniture and old cars strewn around yards blocked off by fences. I asked her if we could go home and she said, “Just as soon as we find a new one.” This made me even more scared – why were we looking for a new house? Why couldn’t we go back to our own? Who would let Dad know where we were? Dragging my feet, the sun burning my skin, I was hungry, thirsty, but most of all scared. While passing by one of the yards a large black dog lunged against a steel fence, barking mad. Then two, three or maybe more dogs followed, sending me into Mom’s arms. She ran with me.

  ‘Eventually we stopped and Mom put me back down. A little girl was standing behind her, smiling at me, so I waved. Mom turned to see who I was waving at. In the yard the little girl stood, red-faced from the sun, a small, stained white dress, covering her skinny body. Behind her there was a pram. I couldn’t see inside it, but I presumed it held a baby. Mom spoke to the girl but I can’t remember exactly what she said, something about her mother. The little girl said her mom was asleep inside. Then I heard the baby crying and before I knew it Mom was beside the pram pulling the shade over the baby. She stuck her head into the open door of the trailer before taking my hand and walking me back to the motel.

  ‘That night as I lay clutching the pillow I heard her crying in the bed beside me. I wanted to turn around and kiss her but I knew this was all my fault so I just lay there, haunted by her sobbing.

  ‘We stayed in the motel the following day until evening, when Mom packed our bags. I thought we were leaving but she told me she had an errand to run and to wait in the room until she got back.

  ‘I think I held my breath the whole time she was away. I’d never been on my own before. Then, after what seemed like forever, she pushed through the door, grabbed our bags and told me to get in the car. I did. I sat in the back seat, looked to my right and there you were. Lying on a blanket, wearing a little pink coat.

  ‘Mom drove out of the parking lot and down the road. The baby just lay there, her tiny legs kicking the air. I could hear Mom gasping for air as she drove along. I said nothing, then fell asleep.

  ‘The next thing I knew we were outside our house. Mom
had driven through the night. It was still dark when she opened the car door and lifted you in her arms. I was completely confused and asked her who you were.

  ‘She didn’t answer until we were back in the house. She was bathing you by candlelight in the sink. I was eating cereal at the table. “We have a new Rebecca now,” she said. I just kept shoveling the cereal into my mouth. But I could sense the madness. After dressing you in some of Rebecca’s clothes, she put you in the crib. Then she gathered your clothes and threw them in the trash. Bert must have been watching, must have seen her do this, and took the coat out.

  ‘It was later that day when I went over to see you in the crib. Your tiny face, arms, legs. I reached for your fingers and twiddled them. Mom was standing over me when I said, “Her nose isn’t twitching. Old Rebecca’s nose twitched when I played with her fingers.” Mom pulled a blanket over the baby, then took me in her arms before sitting me on her lap on the couch.

  ‘“Danny,” she said, her tired eyes staring into mine. “We can’t tell anyone what happened. You are never to say anything about this or the police will come and find out what you did.” I was only three years old. Shaking on her lap.

  ‘As the days passed I began to forget about it, played with you, laughed at you. You were so cute and you made Mom happy, which was the best thing of all. It seemed like everything was back to normal. Mom was singing in the kitchen again, baking, we went to the park and the beach and everything was great. Then one night I heard her having a big row with Bert, it went on for ages. I sat in my room with my pillow over my head trying not to hear them, until eventually Bert left.’

  I’m finding it hard to take all this in, staring wide-eyed at Danny, who is shivering in front of me. I’ve never seen him this broken before. How did he hold this in for all those years? Carrying on like nothing had happened? She must have scared him good when she mentioned the cops. What a fucking mean thing to do to a three-year-old.