Four

Part 4: Autumn

Autumn

The summer sun began to fade, as that shockingly eventful year grew old.

While in London, Gavin and I learned all about the birds and the bees from a professional woman who was qualified to talk to us about everything we had witnessed.

I remember finding the shock of how babies were made, more horrifying than what I had witnessed within Neegan Farm.

The creatures in the baskets were mummified babies, created by the wrong doing of the Neegan brothers upon their sister, Cecelia.

We were informed that the Neegan Brothers would be sent to prison for their crimes.

Cecelia would be cared for in a special hospital, for the rest of her days. She wouldn't have to endure any more suffering.

All of this was told to us very carefully during the many weeks we spent in London, with the professional people. Both Gavin and I flourished in the company of adults who told the truth.

They gave us two possible reasons as to why Charlie Neegan may have taken his life. The first was his conscience. Charlie's may have got the better of him and he couldn't live with what he had done.

The second theory rang more true with me. It had been ascertained that Cecelia, may have given birth to six children. A farm hand had witnessed Charlie disposing of what looked like a new-born baby in the pig feed, and fearing imminent detection he killed himself in order to avoid the consequences.

I shared with the 'qualified people' my meeting Terry Tiernan on the lane and more importantly, what I had seen in the bucket that morning in the woods.

That evening, a police woman visited me and she wrote down every word I said, she said it would help to make sure the Neegan brothers would stay in jail for a long time. I felt proud to be of such important help.

Our parents also seemed to enjoy the openness, that the professional people encouraged, and we enjoyed many laughter filled days, exploring London and enjoying each other's company.

Curiously, I felt at ease in this big city, I felt safe surrounded by lots of people. But, as we laughed and joked in the city, Gavin and I harboured one last secret. We had vowed not to share it with the professional people as I felt a strong protective urge. I loved my aunt Kate and I felt she should be given the chance to explain all herself.

However, the professional people beat me to it. It was the last subject on their agenda. They made sure I was returning home with every stone un-turned; there was no room in my young head for any more secrets.

This last chapter was revealed while my mother was with me (and will be delivered to you in the epilogue below), as they explained that she was also suffering from trauma, and complete truth, trust and transparency were needed in order for us to begin the healing process.

And then they were gone.

So, there was no one to prepare me for the trauma that was to come. Gavin would not be returning with me.

He told me himself, in the foyer of the plush hotel. I looked out the window at the sky as the late September sun began to fade. I can still vividly recall the most overwhelming feeling of: sad, empty, aching loneliness that engulfed me. I sobbed heavy, heaving tears that only abated as I stepped off the train.

Alone again, with just mother and aunt Kate for company.

The professional people talked about us moving on, and here I was, moving back.

Epilogue

Neegan Farm delivered its final secret just three weeks before Christmas day. Aunt Kate placed the warm, gurgling bundle into my arms and it was love at first sight.

My new-born baby cousin gurned at me and I felt the most enormous surge of complete and unconditional love.

Aunt Kate had begun seeing Dermot Neegan shortly after his brother's funeral. One lonely evening she had succumbed to his charms when he had visited her unexpectedly and she had fallen pregnant.

Like me, aunt Kate began to suspect darker goings on and ironically she was doing exactly as Gavin and I were. She had actually stolen the keys from Neegan Farm one evening when visiting Dermot. She had become suspicious when she was never allowed to talk with Cecilia on her own. "Keep your nose out of our business," Dermot frequently admonished her.

The afternoon Gavin and I had discovered her in the house; she was going to check out the room but had fled when she heard our footsteps.

We laughed at the coincidental absurdity of the situation. But we all agreed that Sarah Cecilia Clancy, my beautiful cousin, was the good that ended that evil year.

Gavin and I were married on my 21st birthday in London. Our experience had created a bond between us that was unbreakable. But more importantly, we believed it had taught us valuable lessons.

It gave me a strong belief in the inherent goodness in us all. People are born good, and it's often circumstance that creates evil.

The one image that returns to haunt me, time and time again, is not the obvious. Instead, it's the picture of the young and handsome Charlie Neegan, standing proud on his graduation day. A young and intelligent man, full of promise, whose life took a wrong turn when fate removed his parents from the world.

His moral guardians gone, the weight of responsibility, and the seclusion of Neegan Farm, probably created an environment wherein unnatural lusts and desires could fester and thrive. Just as good perpetuates good, so evil perpetuates evil, and once the first crime had been committed in Neegan Farm, that evil conspired and grew until innocent souls were denied a second breath!

Gavin and I are old now, in our autumn years. Yet our love is as fresh and summery as the day we met.

Our four beautiful children are all parents themselves, and we regard their success and goodness, our greatest achievement.

This summer, just like every other before, Gavin and I will return to my home. Once there, we'll place four white roses on a tiny grave, nestling peacefully in a quiet graveyard.

Afterwards, we will walk into the woods, and Gavin will find a mossy tree stump to sit on. He'll take my hand, smile up at me, and declare, "I love you, Pickle."