Echoes of Lies by Jo Bannister Read Free Book Online Page A

couldn’t have done it without me. It’s my responsibility. And I don’t think I can bear it.”
    â€œListen to me, darling.” Her Gs came out like Ks. “You’re not responsible for what you can’t prevent, and if you didn’t know what they intended you couldn’t stop them. Don’t crucify yourself. There’s no need: there’s always a queue of people waiting to do it for you.
    â€œNow tell me. Are the police involved? Do you need - what, an alibi? Tell me what I should say.”
    Torn between tears and laughter, buoyed as always by the generous, anarchic nature of her friend, Brodie shook her head. “The police know all about it. I don’t need protecting from them, though thanks for the offer. I just - I needed to tell somebody -”
    Marta regarded her with compassion. “Brodie - you don’t think maybe you should tell John?”

    â€œJohn?” That really did take her by surprise. “Why?”
    â€œBecause he’s a lawyer. Because whoever did what to who and however little of it was your fault, the police are involved and you may need legal advice. Better he knows now than you phone him in the middle of the night with them hammering down the door.” Marta’s opinion of the police had been influenced by the circumstances in which she left Poland.
    â€œIf I need a solicitor, it won’t be John.”
    â€œWhy not? Because he fell in love with someone else? Bad taste, I grant you, but he’s not a bad man. He was always straight with you, Brodie. Be straight with him. Is best.”
    She didn’t think so, but Marta was an astute woman, Brodie would always give her opinions serious consideration. “Honestly, Marta, I’m not in any trouble. Or only with my own conscience.” She took a deep breath. “Is this making any sense to you?”
    â€œNot a lot,” confessed Marta cheerfully. “But then, you don’t want me to know what happened, do you, only how you feel about it. And I can see how you feel. Now you have to decide what to do about it.”
    â€œDo about it? What can I do?”
    â€œThe man who got burned. He’s alive?”
    Brodie hesitated. But Marta wasn’t going to betray her. “He’s in the hospital. I don’t know if he’ll recover. It wasn’t just the burns: when they’d finished with him they shot him. They dumped him in a skip.” Tears welled again.
    â€œNot a lot of respect for human life, hm? Well, I tell you. Whether he lives or dies, what you need is to make your peace with him. Go to the hospital. Now: I’ll stay with Paddy. Tell him they tricked you, that you didn’t know. Tell him you’re sorry.”
    She clearly hadn’t understood. Brodie shook her head, the dark cloud of her hair tossing like a storm. “If I thought he’d understand … But he was unconscious. He could be dead by now. Even if he isn’t, he wouldn’t know I was there.”
    Marta gave a Slavic shrug. “This doesn’t matter. Him hearing it isn’t what it’s about. You saying it: that’s the reason. Confession and forgiveness.” She smiled sombrely. “This he can do with his eyes shut.”

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    Brodie was neither a Catholic nor a church-goer, so the question absolution that made perfect sense to Marta left her doubtful. But it was only an empty gesture, even a gesture was better than nothing. Perhaps when she’d confessed she could begin to forgive herself.
    So an hour later Brodie parked her car behind the blockhouse architecture and dingy white concrete of Dimmock General and let herself in by the route Deacon had shown her.
    There was a different constable outside the door, but when she gave her name he nodded her through. It was also a different nurse. Neither of them asked her business, which was as well because Brodie would have found it hard to explain.
    It was twelve hours