Page 83 of Broken Country

“I had to come.”

“OK,” I say, although it isn’t. It’s the opposite of OK. I am not ready to see Gabriel. I am not ready to see anyone.

“I never thought he’d go down for it. Robert was meant to be the best there is, everyone thought he’d win. I’m so sorry, Beth. I’ve let you down.”

I don’t want to have this conversation. This pointless, hopeless conversation.

“How long will he get, do you think?” Gabriel asks.

“Robert says to expect eight years. But he could get out sooner. Maybe even in five, if we’re lucky.”

I grimace at the word, so does Gabriel. Lucky, we are not.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel says again. “I should never have let Frank do this. I didn’t want to at the time. Do you remember—” He breaks off, floundering.

I am a wall of silence. I know I need to speak. I need to help Gabriel deal with his guilt. It’s just that I am so tired. Tired of all of it.

“Robert let us down too,” Gabriel says.

“That’s not fair. He did what he could. The story never really added up. He didn’t have the full facts.”

“I’ll never understand why Frank did it. Why would he take the fall for a child who wasn’t his?”

It must be the exhaustion, there’s no fight left in me. No resistance. Words begin to form in my mind, words I must not say, but they’re rising, unbidden in my throat, in my mouth, rushing out of me, into the air. “He couldn’t save your son.”

“What are you talking about? He did save him. He’s gone to prison for him.”

My heart is hammering so hard I feel I might pass out. “Your first son.”

It takes a second, that is all.

“Bobby?” he says, voice faltering on his name.

I incline my head, the merest breath of acknowledgment, it is as much as I can do.

“Myson. He was my son?”

He roars in pain. I have never heard anything like it. This howl. This long yell of torment and rage and sorrow as, at last, it all falls into place.

“Gabriel.”

I move closer to him, but he backs away. “Don’t come near me.”

I watch as Gabriel covers his face with his hands and begins to sob. This thing between us, this shocking, hidden thing, it is unforgivable. I’ve always known that. And so has Frank.

He looks at me again, brushing tears from his cheeks. “Leo looked like Bobby, didn’t he? I see it now, that photograph of yours, the one Leo liked so much. Christ, poor Leo. You cheated him out of a brother. And me out of a son. You stole him. You and Frank.”

“He was my son too. And you weren’t there for me, remember?”

“But—” Gabriel’s voice rises to a wail. “I would have stood by you! I loved you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to. Your mother knew. And I hoped she’d tell you for me.”

“My mother knew? My mother?”

The horror in his face. I am almost too afraid to carry on.

“I didn’t tell her, she worked it out. I thought she might want to help me, knowing it was your child I was carrying. But all she cared about was protecting your reputation. She made me promise never to tell you. She paid me off, Gabriel. A big fat check for my discretion.”

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