'You keep it all, Phillip. I never want to see this place again, to be perfectly honest.'
'You can have whatever you want, Christine. I'll be generous. I suppose I owe you. I certainly owe you my life, and that's a big debt.'
'You owe me Philly's life and all. God love him, I bet he's devastated.'
'Well, put it this way, he ain't exactly celebrating, if you know what I mean.' Phillip tried to laugh it off, but even he was having trouble accepting what had happened.
Christine placed her drink on the table and, getting up, she straightened her clothes. She could feel her husband's eyes watching her every move. 'I'm off then. I've packed a bag, I'm going to me mum's.'
He nodded, and she knew he would let her go now. He had no power over her any longer. She was leaving.
'I love you, Christine, remember that.'
She looked down at him then and, smiling gently, she said frankly, 'No, you don't, Phillip, you never did. You don't know what love means and neither did our Timmy. But Philly does, so you can do me one last thing – promise me you won't take that away from him.'
Epilogue
I do not wish them [women] to have power over men; but over themselves
Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-97) A Vindication of the Rights of Women (1792)
The unexamined life is not worth living
Socrates (469 bc-399 bc)
Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Two
'Hello, Finoula, how are you feeling, love?'
Christine was visiting from Spain. She finally had the life she had dreamed of, and now she had a new grandson to celebrate.
Finoula looked tired but outrageously happy. And that was how it should be – she had only given birth a few hours before, and she needed a good night's sleep and her husband to herself.
Philly was so proud of his newborn son, he looked fit to burst. He placed him in his mother's arms carefully, and Christine looked down at the child with love already in her heart. He was dark-haired and blue-eyed. He was Phillip Murphy all over again, and she was surprised that it didn't bother her as much as she had thought it would.
'He's beautiful, really beautiful.'
'We like him!'
Christine laughed at her son's unashamed pride in his new baby. 'I better warn you both that me mum's on her way.'
They laughed with her.
Then Phillip walked into the room and, looking into his wife's eyes, he said quietly, 'Hello, Christine, you look well, mate.'
She took the compliment well, and she gave it straight back. This was their new way of communicating. It was all very civilised, and she knew she was very lucky. Phillip had let her go, and she knew how hard that had been for him. She wouldn't strong it in any way. There could never be another man, not that she wanted one. She would always have to see him from time to time, because of Philly, and now this little fellow. They shared a deep secret, and it was only because of that they could continue with their lives. 'So do you, Phillip. Isn't he gorgeous?'
Phillip looked at the red-faced child and said seriously, 'Good genes, that's what it is, love.'
She didn't answer him, the words provoked so many emotions in her. She saw the baby grab her husband's finger tightly and, pulling on it to show the child's strength, Phillip said loudly, 'He's a Murphy, all right! Another Phillip Murphy – we'll end up a dynasty if we ain't careful.'
They all grinned happily, except Christine. She felt the urge to run from the room, run away from them, but she wouldn't. She was only over from Spain for a few days, then she would go back and resume her new life. They came out to see her often, Finoula and Philly, and they respected her decision to live so far away. What more could she ask for?
Eileen and Ted burst into the room then. Both were overexcited at the birth of their first great-grandchild, and Christine stepped back, watching them all together.
Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Three
'It looks lovely, Veronica.'
Christine was admiring the new sofa and TV that Phillip had supplied. Veronica nodded, not interested in her home for once, and Christine followed her out to the kitchen where she was making one of her endless pots of tea.
'Isn't he gorgeous, Christine? A great-granny again! Now that makes you feel your age, I can tell you!'
Christine smiled the requisite smile, and waited for the real conversation to begin. It was only a matter of time, and, actually, she had thought it would have been sooner than this.
They were halfway through their tea when Veronica finally said sadly, 'Any news about Timmy?'
Christine shook her head. 'Not a word. He's just disappeared.'
Veronica nodded as if in agreement, but she wasn't a fool and they both knew it. 'Can I ask you something, and will you promise me you'll never repeat it to a soul?'
Christine nodded, knowing what this woman was going to say to her. 'Of course, anything.'
'Is Timmy's… disappearance…. anything to do with my Phillip?'
It spoke volumes that this woman had guessed her son had murdered his own child. But Christine made sure she looked suitably shocked – she was getting very good at it. 'What on earth makes you think that?' She sounded incredulous even to her own ears.
Veronica was looking at her now through slitted eyes and she said slowly, 'All right, have it your own way. I'll not ask again, but I'll remind you of this much – it seems funny to me you two splitting up like that, and poor Timmy on the missing list. There's a story here, and one day I'll get to the bottom of it.'
It was almost a threat, and Christine had had enough of threats and veiled accusations and all the other shite that went on in this so-called family. She leant forward in her chair and, looking into the older woman's eyes, she said quietly, but with conviction, 'Do you know something, Veronica? There's some things in life you're really better off not knowing, and this is one of them. You've spent your life protecting Phillip, but believe me when I say this, you didn't do him, or anyone around him any favours, and that includes me. If I had known all those years ago what you had bred, what you knew you had bred, what your son really was, I would have run a fucking mile and maybe saved my own son's life. Now I am going soon, and I doubt I'll be back for a long while, but I know this much: if I never see you again it will be too soon.'
Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Four
'Are you sure you're all right, Christine?'
'Oh, for fuck's sake, Mum, give it a rest, will you?'
Eileen didn't argue with her daughter, she just pursed her lips and waited for Christine to apologise.
'Look, Mum, I'm sorry, but I've told you over and over. I'm all right, I'm not really happy yet, but I'm getting there.'
Eileen nodded sadly. 'If they found his body… If we could bury him…'
Christine rolled her eyes to the ceiling. But her mother was mourning the loss of her grandson, and she had to remember that. Remember that not everyone knew him for what he was or, more to the point, knew what had happened to him, and why. Her mother still missed him, loved him. So why didn't she? Christine hated him more with every day that passed, yet she didn't hate his father any more. In fact she felt nothing for Phillip, nothing at all.
Ted Booth looked at his daughter and shook his head sadly. Christine knew he had guessed a lot, and that she should have listened to him all those years ago. But, as everyone finally found out, hindsight really was a wonderful thing.