Who is Alice? Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names,

  characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the

  author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Ebook Published 2013

  by Poolbeg Press Ltd

  123 Grange Hill, Baldoyle

  Dublin 13, Ireland

  E-mail: [email protected]

  www.poolbeg.com

  © Miranda Manning

  Copyright for typesetting, layout, design, ebook

  © Poolbeg Press Ltd

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781781991268

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  www.poolbeg.com

  About the author

  Miranda took up writing as a hobby when she was a stay-at-home mum and her moods swung dramatically from “all sweetness and light” to “demented mother of three”. She has had a number of short stories published in magazines both in Ireland and the UK and wrote a series of “Demented Mother of Three” articles for a local paper when her children were very young. She particularly likes the short story as a genre both as a reader and a writer. She has been a runner-up in more short story competitions than she cares to remember and wonders what that says about her. Who is Alice? started out as a short story and just grew. It is her first novel.She returned to her day job as an office manager when her children grew older.

  She has three adult children and lives in Galway.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank Paula Campbell, Ailbhe Hennigan, Sarah Ormston and all at Poolbeg for their assistance and encouragement after Who is Alice? was accepted. Many thanks to my editor Gaye Shortland for her endless patience during the editing process.

  Thanks also to Mary Madigan for reading the various drafts and making useful suggestions. To Tom Murphy and Lily O’Brien for their encouragement while I was writing the book, particularly towards the end. And lastly to my family, the Murphys and the Mannings, for just being there.

  To John, William and Emer

  Chapter 1

  Nicola just knew that this was going to be an awful day. It had started with yetanother row with Jonathan, the man she called her partner and was longing to call her ex. The Taoiseach had dropped dead a few days earlier as he walked from his car into Dublin Castle and, while the country was not in turmoil, there had been nothing else discussed anywhere since. Then the first phone message on her machine was from a deeply distressed woman, who said her name was Alice O’Brien. She said that she had been locked out of her apartment, that the locks had been changed, and that she and her children had nothing except the clothes they stood up in. The call had come after closing time the previous evening so Nicola felt that she was already too late when she dialled the number on the message.

  “Alice?” Nicola asked, surprised when a very confident-sounding woman answered.

  “No,” the voice replied. “I’ll get her.”

  The voice that said a timid hello was the same one as the one on the answering machine.

  “This is Nicola McCarthy, the social worker you phoned last night.How can I help you?”

  “I’m not sure really. It was my neighbour who suggested I call, because I have nowhere to turn, and she can’t put me up for much longer.”

  “Have you any idea why the locks were changed?”

  “I don’t know really.”

  “Have you missed paying your rent?”

  “Oh no – I’m not renting.”

  “Is there a doorman you could ask about the locks?”

  “Yes – I went to him first thing – but all he would say was that he knew nothing about it, but I’m sure he did.”

  “Why do you think he knew about it?”

  “Because he has let me in, in the past, when I lost my keys. But yesterday he said that if my keys didn’t work neither would his – but he wouldn’t even try. As well as that, he didn’t seem a bit surprised.I explained to him that my partner sends me the housekeeping money by bank draft and it arrived yesterday but he still didn’t even attempt to let me in.”

  “Why didn’t you phone your partner and get him to come and deal with the situation – or at least put some money in your bank account to tide you over? Where is he anyway?”

  “He’s in Dublin. I’ve tried contacting him, but he’s not answering my calls.”

  “Did anything happen?Did you have a row?”

  “No, we didn’t have a row. But something did happen in a way.” The voice was very hesitant now and even less confident.

  “What happened?”Nicola encouraged her. “You can tell me. This conversation is completely confidential.”

  “Well, the Taoiseach died.”

  “What has that got to do with your situation?” Nicola was curious now as well as puzzled.

  “My partner is Jack Madden,” came the reply.

  “Oh,” Nicola said, knowing that this was where the story could easily be complete fiction.

  In this job she had heard some very strange stories. It was not uncommon to come across a client who was delusional and certainly, if this woman was in a relationship with the dazzling Jack Madden TD, it was the best-kept secret in the West. Nicola wracked her brains trying to drag out from the dark corners of her memory any rumours she had heard about Jack Madden. She failed. God knows the tabloids and gossip columns wouldn’t have let him get away with a mistress. His family had moved to Dublin with him some time fairly early in his political career and it was well known that he visited his constituency here in Galway every week. He held a regular clinic on Mondays in a hotel on Eyre Square and he had a holiday home in Connemara where his family spent most of every summer. No, Jack Madden must be the one TD about whom Nicola couldn’t recall hearing anything salacious, even in jest. In fact, the only rumour she could recall
was that Mrs Madden had something in common with Imelda Marcos, in that she had a penchant for shoes. And now that the Taoiseach was dead, everybody considered Jack Madden his obvious successor.

  “Are you sure you can’t get back into the apartment?” Nicola asked, hoping to get some sense of whether this situation was real or not.

  “Yesterday, as a last resort, my neighbour suggested getting a locksmith to let me in but when he arrived at around five yesterday the doorman threatened to call the Gardaí. Cassandra had to pay the man, even though he didn’t do the work, as I didn’t have any money on me – only a couple of hundred in my bank account.”

  “Do you have any family you could stay with?”

  “No. My family have made it very clear that I am not welcome at home unless I come alone. I can’t go home with the children. My family were very upset when I took up with Jack and were even more upset when I had the children.”

  “Would it help if I got in touch with them?” Nicola was grasping at straws. “Sometimes it helps in family situations when a neutral person intervenes.” If the woman gave her permission to phone her family it would be one way of establishing the veracity of the story.

  “No!Don’t do that.” Alice’s voice was panicky. “My father recently had a stroke and any kind of worry or upset would make his situation worse.”

  Nicola sighed. “Could you come into the office this morning, so we can explore your options?”

  The woman on the other end of the line burst into tears.

  “I can’t!” she wailed. “When I went out this morning to take the children to school my car had disappeared from the car park. Could you come out to me?”

  “Well, I’ll have a look in my diary and see how I’m fixed.” Nicola could hear loud convulsive sobs.

  Then a more businesslike voice was on the phone.

  “Hello. My name is Cassandra. I’m Alice’s neighbour. I know her story sounds far-fetched but I believe it’s true. She really needs help.”

  “How long have you known her?” Nicola asked.

  “To be honest we’re only on nodding terms, but I’ve known her to see since she moved in here eleven or twelve years ago.”

  “And how do you know that what she’s saying is true?”

  “Because I’ve seen Jack Madden in the apartment block often enough to know which apartment he stays in.”

  “How come you didn’t get to know Alice better in all that time?”

  “Let’s say we both have reasons to keep our distance but my feeling is that Jack Madden had Alice completely in his control. I think you should come out. It would be more private and I honestly don’t think she knows where the bus stop is.”

  Looking through her diary, Nicola realised that she had a fairly free morning so against her better judgement she agreed.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Number 4, Lady Gregory Court, Taylors Hill. Don’t talk to the doorman.Use the intercom and I’ll buzz you in.”

  AsNicola drove towards Taylors Hill she had only a vague idea where Lady Gregory Court was. Cassandrahad said it was at the bottom of the hill on the right, next door tothe rectory, but Nicola was a fairly recent arrival in the city and so wasn’t aware that there was a rectory there. But Lady Gregory Court was easy enough to find, or at least the gate was. She got out and pressed 4 on the key pad.

  Cassandra’s voice was clear. “I’ll open the gate. Park in space Number 5 – it’s one of my spaces – and then press 4 again when you reach the building. I’m on the second floor. I must emphasise again: don’t speak to the doorman.”

  The gate opened in slow motion and Nicola was astonished at the lush gardens as she drove inside. Despite the fact that it was autumn there wasn’t a leaf out of place. The manicured lawn and elegant trees and shrubs gave an indication of the opulence she would meet inside the building. She drove to the car park, tastefully hidden behind the shrubbery, and parked. She headed for the building,conscious as she approached the door that the doorman was already aware of her entry into the grounds.

  She pressed 4 and pushed the door in when she heard the buzz. She walked past the doorman without a sideways glance and stepped into the mirrored lift to the strains of a popular classical tune which she could not name. She could feel, rather than see, the doorman’s look of annoyance and she was aware as the lift doors drew together gently that he had picked up the phone.

  This was a small, classy development. There were two apartments on the second floor. The door to Number 4 was slightly ajar, but Nicola stood outside and knocked. Immediately the door opened wider and a tall elegant woman in her late thirties, with shoulder-length dark hair, appeared. She was vaguely familiar. Nicola wondered if she’d seen her at a fashion show or some such event or perhaps in a wine bar, but she decided she could have been familiar from just passing her in the street. Her clothes were casual but expensive and she had the confident aura of a woman for whom life held very few surprises.

  “Alice?”

  “No, I’m Cassandra. Come in. Alice is having a shower. We were up late last night, I’m afraid. She’s a bit shell-shocked. She doesn’t seem capable of making a plan.”

  “Are you both sure she can’t get back into the apartment?”

  “Absolutely. The doorman was adamant and quite menacing. There was no way he was going to allow us to change the locks.”

  As Cassandra led the way into a medium-sized, beautifully furnished sitting room, Nicola asked:“Is there any way you could look after her for a few days? Because that is the least it will take to get the system in motion.”

  “Out of the question,” was the rather brusque reply.

  Nicola hoped her surprise at the response did not show in her expression. She sat down on a luxurious sofa and Cassandra sat beside her.

  “I’m sorry,” Cassandra said. “How confidential is this situation?”

  “Nothing you tell me will leave this room without your express permission.”

  Cassandra looked Nicola straight in the face and said:“The truth of the matter is I’m an escort. I cancelled my clients last night and today but my business will suffer if I don’t keep the rest ofmy appointments. This business is becoming increasingly competitive and I am not getting any younger.”

  To illustrate the point she went and opened a door, which was quite close to where Nicola was sitting, revealing a room decorated in such a way that it was clear she was telling the truth. It was not in any way like your average bedroom. Nicola thought it looked like one in a rather tasteful bordello.

  As she shut the door again, another one at the far side of the room opened and a woman, Alice no doubt, stood hesitantly in the doorway. She was a blonde, smallish, fragile-looking woman, whose appearance and demeanour made it difficult to tell her age, but Nicola guessed that she was in her late twenties. The fact that she was wearing an ill-fitting track suit made her appear even more vulnerable.

  “Come in, Alice,” Cassandra said. “This is Nicola, the social worker.”

  “Oh, hello!” Alice said. “I didn’t realise you were here. I needed a shower. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “That’s okay,” Nicola said with a smile, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

  Alice came into the room and sat nervously on the edge of a chair. Nicola didn’t know where to start. The young woman was obviously very stressed and Nicola needed to establish, among other things, how the children were faring.

  “Alice, I have to ask you a few more questions so that I can work out the extent of the problem and how I can help,” she said gently.

  “That’s okay,” Alice replied softly.

  “How many children do you have? And what ages are they?”

  “Two, both girls. They’re aged eleven and eight.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “At school, even though I hadn’t even a clean set of underwear or socks to put on them. I thought it best to behave as normally as possible but we literally have nothing. Everything we own is in
that apartment.”

  “Do you have a job, any money? Credit cards? A bank account?”

  “I’m a full-time mother. Jack supports us. I have a bank account which I use for everyday stuff and I have a credit card.”

  “How did you get a credit card if you have no visible means of support?”

  “Jack organised it when we moved in here. I just use it occasionally, normally for a special occasion for the children – birthdays and Christmas. Jack pays it off.”

  If this woman was delusional she was very convincing.

  “When was the last time you heard from Jack?”

  “I haven’t heard from him since he left here on Tuesday morning. He would usually have been in touch by now, if only to let me know when he is coming and he rarely leaves my calls unanswered except perhaps when he is abroad.”

  “Do you think he’s aware that you’re locked out?”

  “He should be. I sent him several texts yesterday but my phone was cut off this morning. It’s a bill phone and he pays it. I’ve never even seen the bill. Cassandra thinks he’s deliberately avoiding talking to me.”

  Nicola looked at Cassandra quizzically.

  “I don’t mean to upset Alice,” said Cassandra, “but I believe that a mistress and two children that virtually no-one knows about don’t fit into Jack Madden’s plans for the future. Other TDs who have strayed have usually come out in the open eventually, but not Jack Madden. My guess is that Alice and the children were never going to be part of his future if there was a possibility of becoming Taoiseach. On the surface his marriage seems to be a good one and I suspect that less than a handful of people, including me and the doorman, know about Alice.”

  Alice blew her nose loudly and Nicola wasn’t sure if she was crying or just had the sniffles.

  “You mentioned you don’t pay rent, Alice?”

  “No, I don’t – Jack bought the apartment.”

  “Did he buy it outright or does he have a mortgage?”