His Silence - Chapter Ten

Harvey’s hair is a lot shorter than it is in the photographs I’ve seen of him, from when he was fourteen, and from what I remember. My eyes clap on his bulging biceps. I shift in my seat. God, now his gaze is fixed on me, I want to look away but I can’t.

He approaches our table; he’s almost sauntering over, like this is just like every other day for him. Has he had many other visitors apart from me? I imagine journalists trying to gain access to see him in prison, and those strange women who think they can somehow fix people, who have been banged up for horrific crimes, and end up marrying them in prison. The thought makes my skin go cold at these sorts of people contacting Harvey. I keep my focus on him. I’m surprised at how confident he is. From what I remember of him, from when we used to live together, he was never particularly outgoing. It would always be me and him together, I’ve never been able to remember any other children our age being in the picture. He pulls the chair out opposite us, sits and smiles. My knees are trembling under the table. This is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting years for.

‘Oh God, Grace, I mean, sorry . . . Danielle, it’s so good to see you,’ he says. His eyes seem to twinkle. How can he say that to me? I roll my tongue around the inside my mouth. I swallow. I can sense Jeremiah’s eyes on us; he’ll be watching both of us intently, studying our every move, everything we say to each other. It felt weird Harvey calling me by the name I had before, like I’d been stung.

I take in a deep breath. I’m actually sitting across from my brother. He’s in front of me; right now he’s in front of him. ‘Eight years. Eight bloody years I’ve been trying to see you.’ My voice shakes as I speak. ‘You’ve rejected my request to come and visit you every single time.’

He looks into his lap. For a moment I think he looks genuinely upset. ‘I know, I’m sorry. If I could’ve seen you earlier, I would’ve done so, but it wasn’t possible. It’s why I’ve been so looking forward to this particular year,’ he replies, shifting forward in his seat. He clasps his hands together on the table.

‘Why wasn’t it possible?’ I snap. I have to keep forcing myself to stay in my seat. I want to hit him; I want to beat the answers out of him. ‘D'you not know how many sleepless nights I’ve had over this, over what you did to our family? I see Mum and Dad’s faces all the time in my mind; I see their bodies sprawled out across the sofa, and you standing there with the axe in your hand. Hey, I’m talking, to you Harvey.’ His gaze had drifted across to Jeremiah, like I wasn't important.

He switches his gaze back to me, for a brief moment we stay like that, staring into each other’s eyes and the soft murmurings of everyone else’s conversations around us drift into my ears. ‘Has Jeremiah talked to you a little bit about our life before all of this mess?’ he asks, keeping his voice soft.

I lean back. ‘A little, apparently we all lived together, he showed me a photograph.’ How can he be so calm? I grit my teeth.

Harvey nods. He’s not even shaking, if I was in his position I would’ve been terrified at the thought of meeting me for the first time. I force myself to stay rooted in my seat. Don’t react; you need to hear what he has to say. He rubs the bridge of his nose. ‘You probably can’t remember much from that time, but what we had . . . it was so special. It was amazing. Our parents, they took that all away from us. If they hadn’t done that, then we would still be there now. They would still be . . .’ There’s venom in his voice as he speaks. Our eye contact breaks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jeremiah’s keeping his gaze fixed on Harvey; his arms are folded across his chest, which rises and falls steadily as he breathes.

I stare at Harvey. ‘You’re not making any sense. I want you to tell me why you fucking killed our Mum and Dad.’ I slam my fist into the table as I say the last part of my sentence.

Harvey flinches. There’s something in his eyes. Anger. What made him kill them? I shiver.

Harvey runs his tongue across his lips. ‘There’s a place I think you should visit, Danielle, and I really would advise you to do so.’ He’s keeping his voice steady, but there’s a slight touch of nerves.

‘What place?’ I ask, sitting back in my seat.

‘It’s a house in Essex, the people who we used to live with, they’re still there. If you want to know more about our past, that’s where you need to go. I promise you, you won’t regret it. Only there will you find the out the truth.’

‘So are you not going to tell me anything then?’ I say, shaking my head. This is unbelievable. Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I force myself not to cry. I will not let him see me cry. ‘I’ve waited years for this, Harvey, absolute years. I want you to tell me why you fucking killed our Mum and Dad. I’ve spent years imagining what life would’ve been like with them, a life you stole from me. You can’t say you finally want to talk to me and then tell me nothing.’ I wipe my eyes.

‘I’m telling you, that’s where you’ll find the answers you’re looking for,’ he says, still in that same, mocking voice. He’s doing this to wind me up. He’s doing this on purpose. ‘Jeremiah can give you all the details.’

I glance across at Jeremiah. ‘So why did I have to come and see you to hear all of this? Jeremiah could’ve told me.’

‘Would you have believed it if someone else spoke to you?’ Harvey asks.

I open my mouth to respond, I close it. I’m not sure what to reply. This stinks.

‘Do you feel any remorse at all for what you did?’ I say, my spittle landing on the table.

He stares at me for what feels like a long time. ‘No, I don’t. I realise that may not be the answer you want to hear, but in time, when you go to the place I told you about just now, you’ll see why.’

I can’t believe he’s said that. After all these years he feels absolutely nothing. I curl my fist and launch myself across the table, slamming it into his nose. Jeremiah stands from his seat and tries to pull me back, grappling at my shoulders. I’m aware guards are shouting, everyone else is looking at us as I continue to pummel my fists into Harvey. I don’t care. He doesn’t react. Tears streak down my cheeks as I force my fists into him. I want him to die. I want him to pay for what he's done. I yell as a guard pulls me off Harvey, and within seconds I’m being dragged out of the room, Jeremiah following closely behind. I catch a final glimpse of Harvey. He’s staring in my direction, blood spurting from his nose as he’s lifted off the ground by guards.

‘Come on, it’s time to go,’ Jeremiah says, grabbing hold of my arm.