Page 4

NOW

July 2023

Lily

Phibsborough, Dublin

Lily glanced at her father’s house, which looked calm from the outside. But she also knew that this didn’t necessarily mean that all was peaceful inside. Spotting a space, she brought her car to a halt, switching her indicators on and mentally high-fived herself as she managed to parallel park in one go. As she got out of the car, Michael rang.

‘Hi, love. I’m visiting Dad this afternoon, remember? You’re picking Ben up from crèche, aren’t you?’ Lily clicked the lock on her key fob and walked back up the street.

‘I remember. I called to wish you luck – that’s all. I know Jason can be . . . difficult, especially this time of year, with the anniversary looming,’ Michael replied.

It was like her husband to be so thoughtful and, not for the first time, Lily thanked the stars that she’d been lucky enough to marry such a good man. ‘Thank you. I won’t be long. I’ll be home for dinner. Bye.’

It took three hard raps of the brass door knocker before she heard footsteps approaching. Her dad had lived in this two-bedroom, mid-terraced redbrick house since his separation from her mother nearly forty years ago. They were first in line to get a divorce in 1998, once it became legal in Ireland. She remembered him saying that the house would be a doer-upper as it needed a lot of modernising. But, of course, that never happened. It remained trapped in a 1980s time-warp, which was apt, as that’s where her father was too.

The door opened, and Lily’s father looked around her, his eyes darting up and down the street, checking for goodness knows what. Only when satisfied that all was clear did he turn to his daughter and say warmly, ‘Hello, Lily. You look well.’

Lily’s heart immediately swelled at the love in her father’s voice, then fell again when she took in his appearance. His once-dark hair was now steel grey, thinning at the top, and he needed a shave. Her eyes ran over his joggers and T-shirt combo, which hung too loose on his lean frame. She moved in for a quick hug and breathed in his typical aroma of caffeine and cigarettes.

‘Time for a coffee?’ her dad asked as he shuffled along the hallway to the kitchen. His back was rounded, stooping too early for his age. He was sixty-eight years old, the same age as her mother. But, unlike her mum, who still looked ten years younger than she was, the lines and wrinkles on his face were a roadmap to the hard life he’d been dealt. Lily felt another rush of emotion for him – this time, sympathy.

‘Coffee would be lovely, Dad. Black, but with one sugar. I need the boost,’ Lily replied. She looked around the open-plan living space for a spot to sit. Every surface was covered in boxes of paperwork, which was the norm in this house. She peered into the nearest box, which was full of flyers.

‘That’s a kid from Leeds. Bobby. Only eight years old. Disappeared from outside his home twenty years ago. His family are convinced he’s in Ireland. Family abduction. It’s thought that his father might have brought him here. I’ve been distributing the flyers around the city,’ Jason said in a rush.

‘Hmmm . . .’ Lily murmured, pushing the box to one side. She didn’t have it in her to hear one more heartbreaking tale of a lost child. While her father had made it his life’s work to support StolenChild , an international missing children’s network, Lily longed for one day with her dad where he focused on her – the child who had never left.

‘I’ve had a call from Mary Wilson.’ When her dad looked blankly at her, Lily added, ‘Your neighbour.’

As he stirred sugar into Lily’s coffee, he looked over, an eyebrow raised in question.

‘Mary said you’ve been playing music late again.’

‘Ah, she’s always got to have something to moan about.’

‘Perhaps. But, to be fair, she did say that it was four in the morning.’

Her father was an insomniac. He’d call it a win if he got three hours a night, but he had to be reminded often that the rest of the world didn’t share his schedule.

‘The music helps me think. You know that. I’ve been working on a new article for StolenChild about your brother.’

This was of no surprise to Lily. She ignored that too, and instead reminded her dad she’d bought him AirPods the previous year. ‘You need to wear them. That way, I don’t get phone calls to my office. Please.’

Her dad handed her a chipped blue-and-white mug filled with steaming coffee. ‘Hungry? I’ve got a packet of Jaffa cakes here somewhere. And I’ll try to remember about the music. Promise.’

‘Thank you. I’ll skip the biscuits – I’ll get dinner with Michael and Ben when I get home.’

Lily waited to see if her dad would ask about his grandson, but she should have known better. He was already rifling through a towering pile of paperwork on the kitchen table, his mind back to StolenChild .

‘Dad, Mum said to remind you that you need to call in to the office to sign paperwork.’

He paused his search, a small smile appearing at the mention of his ex-wife. ‘I meant to do that last week, but I got sidetracked. I’ll go in tomorrow. Take her for lunch. It’s a difficult time for Kimberly, what with the anniversary coming up.’

If Lily lived to be a hundred, she would never understand the dynamics of her parents’ relationship. And, with her years of experience as a psychotherapist, she had lost hours trying to work out what made them tick. They could be loving and warm towards each other, and within moments be at each other’s throat. But, despite their divorce, they’d managed to run their letting agency together for over forty years. Her father took a back seat, as he became more and more obsessed with finding Robert. And it had thrived under her mother’s leadership, who proved herself to be a shrewd businesswoman.

Her dad continued looking through folders on the table, muttering under his breath. Lily reached over and touched his arm.

‘Are you okay, Dad? You look a little . . . wired.’

‘I’ve got something to show you,’ he replied, grinning triumphantly as he found what he was looking for. ‘Take a look at this!’

Lily took the A4 paper sheet he proffered, which had two photographs printed on it, side by side. On the left was her brother Robert, aged two and a half. Blond curls, steel-blue eyes that looked almost grey, rosy cheeks – the quintessential cute baby. She knew every inch of this face off by heart – they all did. It was all they had of him. The photo was taken on the first night of their cruise. In his little hand, clutched lovingly, was his stuffed toy, Peter Rabbit.

On the right-hand side of the A4 paper was a photograph of a stranger. He had mousy brown hair cut short, blue eyes and was clean shaven. Fine lines hovered around his mouth, eyes and forehead.

‘It’s the latest age-progression photograph,’ her dad said triumphantly, his eyes dilated with excitement.

‘I know what it is, Dad.’ Lily replied softly, then looked away.

Jason frowned. ‘You could at least take a proper look at it.’

Lily had seen many versions of Robert over the years. She had watched her brother grow up courtesy of age progressions, created by forensic artists. At first, her family clung to the images, seeing them as beacons of hope. But now Lily found the photographs unbearable to look at.

‘It’s been five years since the last one. I’ve made a poster with the heading “Missing for Forty Years, Time for Answers”. And earlier today I had a chat with a producer on Ireland AM . They want to have me on the show again, on the anniversary next week.’

It took all Lily’s strength not to scrunch the A4 sheet into a ball. Bile rose to her mouth at the thought of her father speaking to TV cameras again, rehashing it all.

‘To what end, Dad?’ Lily said in a clipped voice. ‘Robert went missing on a cruise ship in Spain. He’s not in Ireland . . . He’s probably not even . . .’ Lily paused, leaving the thought unfinished.

‘To what end?’ Her dad began to pace the kitchen. ‘I’ll tell you to what end. Someone might recognise Robert. Or, better still, Robert could see his photograph and recognise himself. It happens. Did I tell you about that baby who was only two months old when he was abducted, but he was found when he was twenty-two? He saw an age-progression photograph and thought, that’s me!’

Lily sighed and tried again with a gentler tone. ‘How accurate are the age progressions, though, Dad? The forensic team don’t have any photographs of Robert’s biological father. So they can only use Mum’s image, and that of a two-year-old boy, to guess what he might look like today.’ Lily’s stomach flipped and turned as she tried to find the courage to ask a difficult question. ‘It’s been forty years, Dad. Isn’t it possible that too much time has passed?’

‘I know how long it’s been. Don’t you think I know that?’ Her dad sat back down again, pushing his hands through his thinning hair.

‘You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I think it’s time that you accept—’

Her father slammed his fist on the table, startling Lily. Then, seeing the hurt in her eyes, his face softened. His shoulders slumped as his anger dissipated, and he said with a weary tone, ‘You don’t understand. You couldn’t.’

‘Try me,’ Lily replied.

‘People think I had something to do with Robert’s disappearance. Do you have any idea what that does to a man?’

Lily bit back a sigh. ‘Yes, Dad, I do. I’ve been here, with a front-row seat to it all.’

Her dad’s eyes became glassy. ‘I’m sorry. But I can’t stop until we find him.’

They’d had this conversation so many times over the years. And each time she was met with this same resolute determination to continue on the same path. Lily wished that her father could leave a little of himself for the family members that were still here. But she didn’t say that to him. Instead she squashed her own feelings down, and tried for the umpteenth time to ease her father’s pain.

‘There will always be a few who believe the worst in people. But most know the truth. You’ve spent decades searching for Robert. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.’

‘I did love him; I truly did. I never saw him as anything but my own.’ Jason’s eyes pleaded with Lily’s to understand.

‘I know. Please don’t upset yourself. Everything will be okay. I promise.’ Lily stood up and embraced her father, her gut wrenching at his obvious pain.

What happened to you, Robert? Where did you go?

If they knew the truth, maybe it would finally set them all free. Because Robert’s disappearance had changed them. Her father was locked in a world of constant questioning and doubt, trying to escape the lingering suspicion that he’d played a part in Robert’s disappearance. Her mother was trapped in a world of grief and pain, refusing to accept the truth of what had most likely happened to Robert, instead immersing herself in work.

As for Lily?

She had spent most of her life trapped in a cycle of feeling invisible, until Michael and Ben had come along – who both needed her, loved her. Saw her.

But even their love couldn’t stop Lily feeling confused about her position in the Murphy family. Because in moments like these, Lily felt that she might as well have disappeared alongside her brother forty years ago.