‘What’s she like?’
‘Looks like Mom, but ten years younger. Dad tries to keep up with her. I doubt that he ever intended to move to Ireland, not even for retirement. Mom should have known that. But haven’t you noticed how tired he looks?’
I had noticed, but assumed he was fighting jet-lag.
‘He can’t keep up with her,’ Erin said. ‘She wants to go bowling every Friday.’
‘Wow, even we hated bowling.’
We laughed and the relief of the laughter made us both a little hysterical. And then our laughter fizzled away to nothing.
More sombre now, she said, ‘We had a blessed childhood, didn’t we?’
‘I guess so.’
I didn’t say what I was thinking, that she was smart and beautiful. I was the ugly duckling. I’d never felt blessed.
‘Milo wants me to visit him in Whiteshore.’ The sentence was lobbed into the conversation like a hand grenade.
‘What?’
‘I know, I was shocked.’
‘But how did he ask you?’
‘Margie tracked me down at work. She’s angry.’
I couldn’t help the redness flushing my cheeks. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t speak.
‘She said he’s innocent and that you lied. He wants me to visit him in prison. She said he would never … have done that.’
I found my voice. ‘Well, he did,’ I lied.
‘I know that. I believe you. His friends and family have given up on the appeal. They wanted the DNA tested in a different independent lab, but they were turned down. There is no new evidence.’
‘What else did Margie say?’
‘A lot. She repeated everything he said in court. She said he never tickled you and that you sat on his lap and tried to kiss him. She asked if you had a pair of denim shorts and, if you did, how would Milo even know about them?’
‘I don’t know,’ I shouted.
I was flung back into the witness box behind the screen in March 2000, nearly eight years ago. Now my sister was Milo’s public defender. I started to cry, deep heaving sobs. Lucy, in tune with me, woke up crying. Her wails grew louder as mine subsided. Erin hugged me and I felt worse.
‘I’m sorry, Ruby, I should never have told you. You know I believe you. You probably wore those shorts in the garden that summer and he saw you wearing them. He’s a pervert. Margie is mad. Especially after Mrs Kelly … Margie won’t give up, but what the hell would she know? She didn’t realize what her brother was capable of and can’t accept it.’
The irony of her statement made me blush to the roots. I turned away to fill Lucy’s beaker with fruit juice. When I turned back, Lucy was sitting comfortably on Erin’s lap, grizzling.
‘Why now?’ I asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s been in prison for eight years. Why is she coming to you now?’
‘He’s sick. Cancer. She’s afraid he’ll die in prison.’
‘Oh.’
‘I was thinking I might go. But only if it’s okay with you?’ Her eyes brimmed with tears.
