Chapter 50 London, 1986
Helen stood atop the exact slab on the terrace where they had handcuffed her wrists. She looked down. The mortar had been replaced with moss and lichen. Her anger and outrage had started here, seventeen years ago, and never for a moment had they left her.
Even at night, her dreams were colourful, filled with the media circus that had followed her arrest, and the trial, where Con Daly had broken down in tears as he told the jury that Sorcha had been three months pregnant, that Helen knew, and had therefore not only murdered his wife, but his child too.
Helen sighed. She’d never stood a chance.
Seventeen years to think and brood over who it was that had set her up so perfectly. Of course, the one person she needed was dead.
At first, she couldn’t believe that after all her kindness to Sorcha, she had accused Helen of the shooting before she died.
But, as she went through the trial, and witness after witness came up to speak against her, to talk of her obsession with her business, her hard nature, the way she was always alone .
. . her faith in human nature had disappeared completely.
During her incarceration, Helen had accepted that to the outside world, she appeared callous and unsentimental.
Little did everyone know that all she longed for was acceptance.
If she was business-minded, it was only because, for her entire life, she felt she had something to prove.
How ironic that it had been her undoing.
She hadn’t made friends in prison, trusting no one. She’d let her guard slip with Sorcha for a short time and look what had happened.
Helen walked slowly indoors. She made her way upstairs, where the empty carcasses of her furry animals had been rearranged on the bed.
She sat down and reached for a skinny teddy.
No vendettas, no recriminations . . .
The words of the governor rang in her head.
Should she forget about the past, sell this house and the one in Ireland and go abroad to a place where she could start afresh?
Helen clutched the teddy to her chest.
No. Her anger was all she had to live for.