Page 63

NOW

August 2023

Kimberly

Phibsborough, Dublin

Kimberly was sixty-eight years old. And for sixty-two of those years she’d worn many different masks, each one masquerading a different version of herself. But who she was now was her favourite. And she’d sworn to herself that she’d never go back to any of the previous versions of herself. Part of that promise was to deny her baby brother ever existed – always pushing away all thoughts of him when they crept up on her.

But today the masks were free-falling, and Kimberly couldn’t see a way to stop them. The life she’d worked so hard to curate for herself was crumbling away to nothing.

Her daughter’s face, and that of the man she’d loved for four decades, betrayed the truth – they thought she was an evil woman because of her actions that day in 1981. Her last throw of the dice was to reveal the original Elsie to them all.

‘He was only six months old. I adored him from the moment my mum brought him home from the hospital. I was his big sister, and I couldn’t wait to take care of him,’ Kimberly explained. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. ‘He smelled like talcum powder. His skin was so soft.’ She opened her eyes again. ‘I know everyone thinks their child is beautiful, but he really was. A mop of dark hair and big blue eyes.’

‘I never knew you had a brother,’ Lily said, her eyes widening.

‘That’s because I never talked about him.’

‘What was his name?’ Sally asked.

Kimberly sighed. ‘Robert. But I shortened that to Bertie by the end of his first day at home.’

‘You named Zach after your baby brother?’ Sally asked, incredulously.

Kimberly held her hands up to ward off everyone’s comments. She had to tell them what happened first.

‘I realised that there was something wrong with Mum pretty fast. She went into the hospital with her big bump, happy and smiling, loving and kind. But returned with Bertie, withdrawn and snappy. My dad had done a runner, a year after I was born, and I never knew who Bertie’s dad was, so we were on our own.’ Kimberly sighed, then added, ‘I had no choice but to take over.’

‘What age were you?’ Lily asked.

‘I’d just turned five.’

Kimberly closed her eyes again as she tried to remember Bertie’s face, and it came back crystal clear, but, try as she might, she couldn’t picture what she looked like back then. That image was grainy in her mind.

‘I loved taking care of Bertie. Bathing him, rocking him to sleep, giving him his bottle. He liked it when I sang to him.’ Kimberly softly began to sing, ‘You are my sunshine,’ stopping when a lump formed in her throat.

‘Oh, Mum,’ Lily whispered. ‘You used to sing that to me.’

‘Yes I did. And I sang it to Sally and Robert too.’ Kimberly closed her eyes again, and she was back in that small terraced home in London. ‘Mum kept forgetting to feed us. She was never hungry herself, so food wasn’t important, I suppose. We all got so thin. I began missing school because I was afraid to leave Bertie alone with Mum. I knew she wouldn’t hurt him on purpose, but she’d forget he was there sometimes. Nowadays they’d call it post partum depression. But back then there wasn’t anyone to spot that Mum was having problems. Except for me, and I didn’t know what to do about it.’

‘You were five. How could you?’ Sally said softly.

Lily walked back to Michael and Ben. They huddled together on the sofa, Michael’s arms moving tight round his wife and son. Kimberly envied them. She’d had similar family love to theirs, for the briefest, most magical time of her life. And now she would do anything to feel her grandson’s comforting arms around her. But she wasn’t sure she would ever be allowed that privilege again. Sighing, she continued her story.

‘The school called and threatened social services if I didn’t return, so Mum forced me to go in. Bertie was six months old by this time. I’d turned six. I was so worried about leaving him on his own. Because, even though I was little, I knew my mum wasn’t well enough to take care of him.’

Kimberly pulled at her hair, the sharp pain on her scalp a welcome diversion from the pain piercing her heart. Her bones ached and she felt so tired. She wasn’t sure if she could finish this story that she’d buried deep inside of herself for more than sixty years.

But then she caught Lily’s eye and saw her daughter’s beautiful face clouded with worry and heartache. She knew that the only chance they would ever have to repair the damage she’d caused was to be honest, no matter the cost to herself.

‘I went to school that day, worrying constantly about what was happening at home. When the rest of my class ate their lunches at break time, my teacher, Mrs Joyce, called me up to the top of the class. She’d seen that I had no packed lunch with me, and she gave me a ham sandwich. I can still remember how good that tasted. I was hungry a lot of the time back then.’

Sally made an anguished sigh and they locked eyes, remembering another time in both their lives on the Doddington Estate when each of them had been driven to desperation with hunger. And Kimberly thought to herself that no matter how many mistakes she’d made her children had never gone hungry.

‘Mrs Joyce asked me what was wrong, told me that I should tell her if there were problems at home, that she would help ensure Bertie and I were safe.’ A tear escaped and trailed its way down Kimberly’s cheek. ‘I wanted to tell her. Let her take the responsibility that was crippling me. And I’ll always regret that I didn’t confide in her, because maybe then . . .’ She paused, unable to finish the thought. ‘I was too scared, so I kept my secrets, insisting that everything was perfect at home.’

Kimberly looked around the room again and smiled. ‘And it was perfect in here.’ She tapped the side of her head. ‘I had such a good imagination, and I created a world where Mum was happy, like she used to be when it was the two of us. And Bertie and I were bathed in love and smiles, all day long.’

Kimberly half groaned.

‘I went back to school the next day, looking forward to it, even, because Mrs Joyce had promised she’d bring me lunch again. And I desperately wanted that soft white bread with butter thickly spread, and salty ham. As soon as it was break-time, Mrs Joyce asked me again if all was okay. And I swore we were fine.’

Kimberly felt her body begin to tremble as the final, horrific memory had to be relayed.

‘But it wasn’t fine.’ Kimberly brushed tears away from her face as she spoke. ‘I thought Bertie was sleeping when I got home. But I couldn’t get him to wake up. His skin was cold, so very cold. The air smelled like rotten eggs. And I had to wrap my school scarf round my face to try to block it. I ran to Mum, but she was asleep too. Lying on the kitchen floor, her hair fanning out on the tiles. I shook her and begged her to wake up, but the smell was so bad I couldn’t breathe.’

Kimberly wiped away tears that cascaded down her cheeks as she wept for the first time in decades for her beloved mother and brother. ‘I ran outside because I was coughing so much, and I retched on the grass. Then I banged on our neighbour’s door for help.’

Kimberly heard Lily sob from across the room, and her stomach twisted, knowing that the final part of her story would cause her more pain.

‘While I was at school happily eating my ham sandwich, Mum forgot to turn the gas stove off. She was heating some soup for herself. Bertie and Mum both suffocated from the fumes.’

Kimberly felt arms move round her. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her whole body trembled and swayed as she revealed her secret. Then she felt those arms tighten round her, steadying her. Jason. Her constant. Her safe harbour.

When they pulled apart, Kimberly said, ‘Do you see now? It was my fault that Bertie died. If I’d done something, if I’d said something to Mrs Joyce . . . Bertie would be alive today. But I pretended all was okay.’ She turned to Zach now. ‘I couldn’t do that to you, Robert. I had to save you, unlike my little Bertie . . .’ Her voice broke on a sob as she looked around the room, desperate for their understanding.

They didn’t answer. Each watched her with echoing looks of sympathy and sadness. Even Jason’s father had stopped glaring at her. But none of them spoke up, none of them reassured her by saying that she was right to do what she had.

Kimberly cried out, her voice strangled, ‘You must understand. I had to save Bertie!’

‘It wasn’t your fault that Bertie died. Or your mum. You were a child yourself. You have to know that now,’ Sally said, her face pinched with worry. ‘But Zach wasn’t your brother Bertie. Nor was I your mother, unable to take care of him. I would have laid down my life for Zach.’

Jason stepped away from Kimberly then. He looked so tired as he wearily said, ‘I understand why you took Zach now. I’m glad you told us. But I’ll never understand how you let me spend forty years searching for a little boy when you knew where he was all along. I can’t forgive what you did to our family. To me.’

Kimberly turned to Lily. ‘And you?’

Lily’s answer was to move to her father’s side and hold his hand.

‘What now? You call the Gardaí?’ Kimberly asked in a shaky voice.

‘No!’ Zach stated firmly. ‘There’s been too much pain. I want it to be over.’

‘I’ve spent decades waiting for the moment when Elsie was arrested for what she did to us all back then.’ Sally said. She reached over to clasp Zach’s hand. ‘But maybe it’s time that we all learn to live with the truth. If we can find a way to accept the past, maybe then we can find a new future. So I agree with you Zach. This ends here today.’

Kimberly’s shoulders sagged with relief and when she saw Lily make her way over to her she smiled. It was going to be okay. But her smile froze when she heard her daughter’s words.

‘I’d like you to leave, Mum. You are not welcome here any more.’

Kimberly felt everyone’s eyes on her. She almost crumpled in front of them all, but then she remembered who she was, so she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She’d been through worse storms than this. And she had not only survived, she’d thrived.

She walked over to the sofa and leaned down to kiss Ben gently on his forehead. Then, picking up her handbag, she walked out of the room.