Lizzie's Song

Chapter 5- Confessions

In the morning, Lizzie brings oatmeal to the cells. Lucille is a statue on her cot, her blanket in a heap on the end. She does not move when the carousel spins her oatmeal to her side of the bars. Thomas is just waking, roused by the clattering of the cart, when she turns his breakfast toward him. He sits up, his brain slowly recalling just where he was and why. Lizzie gives him a little wave and returns to her father.

A little while later, Mr York ambles through the jail to check on his wards, stopping first with Lucille, retrieving her breakfast bowl on his rounds, "Today's confession day, Miss Sharpe. Brother Morton will be here. He'll start with Thomas, then you, and then tomorrow he'll come by to serve any spiritual needs, one at a time. Sheriff Rook will be with him. No funny business, miss. He'll have his rifle."

Lucille says nothing.

He leaves for Thomas' cell, "Confession day, Mr Sharpe. The way we do this, Brother Morton will start with you, then your sister, and tomorrow he'll come back to tend to your souls. Sheriff Rook will be with him. He'll have his rifle, so don't think to try anything."

"I assure you, it is over, Mr York."

"Somehow I'm not so sure I can trust your word."

"You cannot trust my sister, but I...I am relieved. My hell is over."

"Wait for the priest to say anything more."

"Do you not hear confessions of your prisoners?"

"I write. Brother Morton tends to you so you have someone's undivided attention. And Malachi makes sure nobody gets any ideas. We all sign the document to swear that it's true. Three sets of ears to make sure we serve justice as fairly as we can."

"Ah."

"You were hoping for something different?"

"I hoped perhaps you could relay my story to Edith and Dr McMichael."

"I'll see what I can do. But if they don't want to hear it, I can't make them."

"Of course."

"How is your shoulder feeling?"

"Excruciating. But only if I move."

Mr York picks up his bowl, "Rest easy- the doctor's coming to change your bandage in just a little while. Mort'll be here soon and he's starting with you."

"That is a blessing, indeed."

Mr York leaves with the bowl, wondering what his ward means.

Brother Morton arrives just after lunch. Thomas is sipping strong coffee when his cell becomes suddenly quite a bit more crowded, a chair for the Brother, Malachi at his post just inside the door, rifle in his hand, pointed to the floor. Mr York outside, the cart serving as his table, ready to write down everything Thomas says.

"Mr Sharpe. Mr York tells me you have committed the grave act of murder and there are three women no longer in this world because of you."

"And my son. Yes."

"You readily admit this? No reservations?"

"Of course."

Brother Morton is not sure whether he is dealing with an incredibly honest man or one who is entirely unphased by murder, "Do you care to elaborate?"

"It is a long story. I would prefer to start in my childhood so this makes sense."

"Go ahead." He settles in his chair. Thomas sips his coffee. And then he begins. He tells of a childhood marred by such brutal abuse that Brother Morton cannot help but cringe. Of his sister's murder of their mother and the incestuous relationship that led to it. Of years away and the way she drew him back to Allerdale Hall. Of the starving years thereafter and Lucille's plan for survival. He is disarmingly blunt about his complicity in her plan and how she poisoned Pamela and Margaret. It is only when he comes to Enola and the baby that his facade breaks and he cannot tell his story so dispassionately.