I suppose I’m on the wrong side of the table this time.
Sitting across from Charlotte McInroy, in her lovely family kitchen, I wonder what I am now. Less than a month ago I was just an average person, a civilian, someone with no angle. I belonged on the good side of the table, and on the other side were the bad people. Whether they were innately bad or just bad because of the choices they made was a subject of theoretical debate. But either way, they were different from me, different to the core. I was a normal person. Now it’s Lottie on the good side of the table.
But was I ever a normal person? Because I really haven’t changed that much inside, have I? I think the same way. I act the same way. I want what I want. I have only acted in line with the way I have always lived my life. Was that all wrong? Am I all wrong? I have broken a lot of laws, not serious ones, I hope, but ones that mean I should definitely be in prison. Eddie got seven years just for money laundering; the thought makes me shudder.
Lottie is soft and bright and as smart as you’d expect Eddie Bishop’s daughter to be.
We do look similar.
She is the associate specialist emergency medicine doctor at Lewisham’s ER. She works long days but she’s happy to fit me in. I’m not sure I’d be quite so magnanimous in her place, but she wants to help. She’s a good person. She wants to do things the right way. Not like her dad.
I wonder suddenly in what inventive ways Mark and I will mess up our kids. If Mark will even want kids with me when I finally tell him. My hand falls down over my stomach and I leave it there, an extra barrier of skin, flesh, and bone to protect my unborn child from the outside world.
I spoke to Alexa yesterday evening after her IUI appointment. She may well be pregnant by now. She’ll have a test in two weeks’ time and we should find out. I know I shouldn’t have, but I told her about my baby. I somehow got caught up in her excitement and that’s when I told her my secret. I had to share it with someone. I’m eight weeks pregnant now. She told me I have to go and see a doctor, take folic acid, not eat soft cheese.
I have been taking folic acid since we got back from Geneva. It’s hidden at the back of the bathroom cupboard. But she’s right, I should go to the doctor. It’s important, Alexa insists. I tell her I’m too busy right now. Stuff has come up. I want to tell her what has come up too, but of course, I don’t. I can’t.
The rift between Mark and me is growing. I’ve been pushing him. I don’t want the diamonds to break our marriage.
“Are we a team?” he’d whispered to me in bed last night.
And I’d nodded, of course, but he shook his head. “Then I say we dump the diamonds.” His voice was tight. “We still have time to back out of this deal. The police might already be watching us, Erin. Who knows, you might be right, the plane people might already be watching us too. And now you want an East End crime syndicate to get involved with us as well. You’re being willfully stupid, Erin. You’re putting us both in danger. Keep your side of the deal with Eddie, sure, do his favor, but tell him you don’t need his help with the diamonds anymore.”
He’s right about one thing. Someone’s definitely watching us, I’m certain of it now. There have been two more silent phone messages this week already, and it’s not Eddie. Whether it’s something to do with the plane people or SO15, I don’t know. But someone is watching. Someone is sending a message.
It’s too late to back out of my deal with Eddie now, you can’t pull out of these kind of contracts, it doesn’t work that way, and Mark will thank me later, I know he will. So here I am. Fulfilling my end of the bargain. And this will work.
Eddie’s daughter sips her tea thoughtfully as I set up the tripod and camera.
In the shot Lottie is side-lit by the French windows that lead into her wet, autumnal garden. A clean diffused light. Stark, but delicate as filigree.
Through the viewfinder lens, she looks relaxed. At home. A contrast to the tense energy of my prison interviews.
I turn the camera on.
“Lottie, I visited your father last week in Pentonville. He spoke about you very fondly. Were you close, when you were growing up?” I’m going to take it slow. Ease her in. After all, I really have no idea how she feels about him.
She takes a soft breath.
She knew there would be questions, but now that they’re here the reality of this interview is finally dawning on her. Big questions require big answers. A steep trudge uphill into the past.
“We were close, Erin. It’s hard to say if we were closer than other families. I don’t have much to compare it to. People sort of kept away from me at school. I get it now. I’ve got kids myself and there’s no way I’d let them be around people like my dad. But at the time, I thought it was me, that I wasn’t quite right. That none of us were, my whole family not quite right. And it definitely made us closer, Dad and I. I was closer to my dad than my mum. Mum was…difficult. Always was. I think that’s why Dad loved her, though. He liked the challenge. Liked the payoff. He used to say high maintenance means high performance. You know, like a car. Anyway, Mum was tricky. Especially with me. But I was Dad’s little angel. He was a good dad. He was. Told me stories. Put me to bed. He was very good to me. So, yes, we were close.”
She watches me expectantly, waiting for the next question.
“Did you know much about his work? His life outside of his time with you?”
Interviewees usually need a while to gather their thoughts, to consider what they want to say. But Lottie knows what she wants to say; she’s just waiting for the chance to say it.
She looks out at the garden for a microsecond, then back to me.
“Nothing, until I was maybe thirteen. I changed schools. They sent me to private school. Dad was doing well. I guess, before, I thought he was a businessman. Everyone looked up to him, everyone trusted his opinion. He seemed to be everyone’s boss. There were always people around the house. Smartly dressed. They had meetings in Dad’s living room. Mum and Dad had separate living rooms. That’s what it was like, you know?” She looks at me, eyebrows raised.
I nod. I get it. It was a rocky marriage.
Her mother remarried while Eddie was in prison. The family split after the trial, each going their separate ways.
“Yeah, so did I know about Dad?” She refocuses. “I remember the night I finally figured it out. As I said, I was about thirteen; I’d just started at the new school. It was the weekend; there were people around, the usual lot and someone new. They’d gone into Dad’s living room together and I’d been in Mum’s watching a film. I came out to get more popcorn from the kitchen. It was a big house, you know. I heard a weird noise like crying, but creepy crying, coming from the hall. I assumed the visitors had all gone already and Dad was watching Saving Private Ryan or something like that on loud, I don’t know. He watched it a lot. He loves Tom Hanks. So I grabbed my popcorn and went into his living room. Dad was there leaning against his desk. Three of his work colleagues were there too. The TV wasn’t on. There was another man on the floor in front of him. The man was on his knees. He was kneeling on this plastic sheeting and there was blood pouring from his mouth. He was sobbing. Everyone else in the room was staring at me, standing there frozen in the doorway, but this guy just kept crying like he couldn’t stop. Dad didn’t look surprised to see me. Just blank. And he still had his overcoat on. That’s always stuck with me. He’d kept it on, like he might leave at any moment. Like he wasn’t staying. At that point Mum happened to come around the corner, she saw that I’d wandered in on something and grabbed me. Took me upstairs. She was gentle about the whole thing—well, for her. Told me the man I’d seen was a bad man, that Daddy was handling everything. Dad came upstairs about ten minutes later. He asked if I was okay. I hugged him so hard. For ages. Like I was trying to somehow squeeze something back into him. Or out of him. But that’s when I knew. That he was the bad man. That good people just don’t do things like that. Even if someone else is bad. They just don’t. After that, I was different with him. Wary, I suppose. I’d like to credit my younger self that he never even noticed the difference in me. I didn’t want him to. You know? I still loved him. I wouldn’t ever want to hurt him.” She stops, her focus snapping back from the past to me.
“Wait—I’m not sure you can use that stuff. I don’t want to have to go to court or anything, you know. I don’t really know what I saw. It was just…enough for me to know.” She gives me a tremulous smile.
“It’s okay. I need to run a lot of stuff by the lawyers before we release the documentary anyway. I’ll flag this for them. If it can’t be used for legal reasons, we can easily scrap it. Are you worried about upsetting Eddie?” I prompt.
She lets out a little laugh of surprise. “No, I’m definitely not worried about upsetting Dad. These things happened; if he doesn’t like them, that’s his problem. I just won’t give evidence against him. There’s a line. And I won’t cross it.” She says it calmly. I realize not much in life upsets Lottie. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Maybe they have more in common, she and Eddie, than she’d like to believe.
I think now is the time.
“Lottie. What I want to do now, if it’s okay with you, is show you a video. It’s a message your father made for you during our interview on Saturday. I know it was your choice not to see him over the past seven years, and if you’re not comfortable doing this, that’s fine. We just won’t.”
I take it easy. I do want Eddie’s help, but I’m not going to be a complete arsehole to get it. If she doesn’t want to see him again, that’s his problem, not mine.
She nods, slow at first but then faster. She wants it. She wants to see it.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” I whip out my laptop and slide it onto the table. “I’ll load it up for you and we’ll just leave the camera rolling if that’s okay?” I want the footage of her watching Eddie. I want the reaction. I want people to see it.
I want his favor and I want the footage.
I slide it around to her and she hits play. Her hands fly up to her mouth.
Maybe he looks older? Maybe he looks sadder? Maybe it’s the tracksuit or the empty off-white room. Maybe he’s thinner, weaker than she remembers. I don’t know. But seven years is a long time. I track into her eyes. Transfixed. I hear his words from last week.
He’s seen photos of Ben, their wedding.
Her eyes crease. A smile behind her hands.
Ben’s a good man, she did well.
He’s proud of her job.
She frowns.
He’s proud of her choices.
She drops her hands, lets them lie lifeless on the table before her. Rapt.
Then the meat of his message.
He did things he regrets. He will change.
Her eyes fill with tears. She is frozen now. Mesmerized. The tears drip from lash to table.
I’m no longer here in the room for her. Nobody exists but them, father and daughter.
He won’t bring that world to her. She’ll be safe. Separate.
She wipes her tears away. Sits up. Solemn. Inhales.
He’ll be a great granddad.
Nothing.
Sweets all round.
A burst of laughter, gone as quick as a burnt magnesium strip.
He loves her.
Silence. Nothing.
She pushes down the laptop screen until it clicks.
She gives me a tight smile.
“I’ll just get some tissues. One second.” She exits frame.
Her eyes are still red when she returns, but she’s back to her usual self. A bit embarrassed by her display of emotion. I turn the camera back on.
“So how does that make you feel, Lottie? Do you think you could give your father another chance? Let him back into your life once he’s out?” Now, I want to know for myself as much as for Eddie.
I don’t know what I’d do if I were her. I could speculate, but reality never matches speculation, does it? At least not in the big things.
She smiles. Gives a self-deprecating chuckle.
“Sorry—it’s a lot to process. God, I thought I was over all this! I really did. Um, what was the question? Will I let him back in my life? Huh, no. No, I really don’t think that’s a great idea. I’m sure people will watch this and root for my dad. Root for the underdog. He’s a charmer, I should know. But no, no, I won’t. And I’ll tell you why. Because he’s actually killed people, real people. Sorry, alleged, alleged! Don’t use that, please. Fuck. Look, he’s a convicted criminal. He is unreliable, he is manipulative, he is dangerous, and I have children. Two little children, and a husband I love. And my husband has family, who don’t want to meet him either. I love my life. I like it just the way it is. I made it for myself, from scratch. So, don’t get me wrong, Erin, I am thankful for my education, the opportunities afforded to me, but I put in the work. I turned up every day, in spite of my family, not because of them.”
She looks directly into the lens.
“Dad, I know you’ll watch this. So here it is. I love you. I love you so much, but I can’t be responsible for you. You made your choices. I’m glad you’re proud of me. I’m going to keep making you proud, but I don’t want you in my life. Know that and respect that decision.” She’s finished. She nods at me; that’s all she’s got. I turn off the camera.
“I know you’re thinking that he’s a good guy, but you don’t really know him, Erin. Trust me. I think it’s lovely that you want a happy ending for us all, but things don’t work like that. He isn’t like that. He’s careless. He’s careless with people. People drop off the radar and to him, that’s fine. Well, I don’t think that’s fine. So I’d rather not. I appreciate the effort, though. I really do. When you see him again, tell him he looks well. He’ll like that.”
We make more small talk as I gather my bags. I pack away my footage, like gold dust.
I did all I could do. She’s not an idiot, and if I’d championed him any more, she’d have realized something was up. I gave her the information, passed along his request, and let her choose. That’s all I could do. I just hope that’s enough for Eddie.