He remembered Larry McLenn’s TV appearances and press conferences as a politician. Trying to correlate this vile specimen of a human, with his bloated, almost purple face and the long, greasy hair, with the MP who had stood in the Houses of Parliament and wandered the corridors of power was impossible.
Trying to imagine him with his mum or with Alice… His brain just wouldn’t go there. Somehow, they had to get his current girlfriend away from him too, but he could sense that was going to be a challenge.
It was a question that came up time and time again with clients – both female and male – who were in abusive situations. They often said their family and friends would ask them why they didn’t just leave their tormentor. He knew the answer to that was far more complex than just walking out the door. Allthey could do here was provide an exit route and pray that Sandra would take it.
Meanwhile, the overwhelming part of his brain now realised that Alice had been absolutely right. It was a huge mistake coming here to chase down answers, because now he couldn’t bear the repulsive possibility that he shared any kind of genetics with this man.
Zac recognised the wide pupils and erratic gestures of someone who was high. Larry hadn’t given up the cocaine habit that had been one of the contributions to his downfall then.
‘Well, well, well… What the fuck are you doing here?’he’d crowed to Alice.
Zac hadn’t even given her a chance to answer.
‘Actually, it’s me who’s here to speak to you. Alice was just kind enough to come with me.’
‘Aye, regular fucking superhero she is. Who the fuck are you?’ he asked, plonking himself down on the one unoccupied chair, and taking a bottle of vodka out of the bag he’d come in with. He didn’t even try to disguise what he was doing – just opened the top and took a long, slow swig of it. By the looks of things, he’d been doing that on the way back from the off licence too, because the bottle was already half empty.
Zac had contemplated going with some kind of fabricated story designed to elicit the truth, but in the end he decided to go with a vague version of the truth.
‘I’m here on behalf of the family of Morag Corlan. You knew her as Morag McTay.’
Larry immediately switched focus to Alice. ‘Who the fuck is this guy, in here talking like he’s the fucking CID?’
‘Just answer the questions, Larry.’
‘Or what?’ he challenged her.
‘Or I’m going to call the police and tell them you violated your parole by snorting cocaine in front of me and have them downhere within minutes. Zac is a lawyer and he’ll corroborate that story. I’m sure your probation officer will be delighted to hear about that.’
Zac didn’t know whether to be astonished or impressed. He went with both.
Alice was still speaking.
‘He’s talking about my friend, Morag, from back when we first met. You remember her.’
It was a statement, not a question.
‘Of course I remember her. Do you think I’m stupid?’
No one answered that question, so Zac went on, trying desperately to frame this in such a way that he’d get answers. Larry wasn’t going to tell him what he needed to know out of the goodness of his heart. And he wouldn’t be afraid of physical threats. The only thing that just might work would be a more tactical, psychological approach that hinted there might be something in it for Larry if it were true.
‘She was my mother. And as Alice said, I’m a lawyer. Some new evidence has come to light that would suggest that you had an affair with Morag before she left for Ireland back in 1995.’
Larry snorted at that, apparently finding the whole thing amusing. ‘Did I fuck,’ was his only retort.
‘I’m afraid we have evidence that says otherwise. Photographs. Witness statements.’
‘Wait, wait, wait – why would you care?’ Larry challenged him. ‘What’s this got to do with you?’
Zac found it interesting that there was nothing in Larry’s demeanour that was connecting a potential affair with the appearance of Morag’s son thirty years later. Even someone who wasn’t too smart would probably have connected those dots if there was a possibility that was the case.
‘Because, like I said, I’m her son. And I was born roughly nine months after the alleged affair.’
Larry choked on his vodka. ‘Wait a minute – you think I could be your dad? Mate, I don’t know what you’ve been smoking. First of all, I never shagged that bird. She was all over me, but nah, she wasn’t my type. Too needy and nothing going for her.’
The urge to pummel him was back, but the desperate need for information overrode it. For now.
‘So there’s absolutely no chance that you could be my father? The thing is, when I find my dad – and only after a DNA test proves that he actually is my father – I want to be in his life. And, you know, make sure he’s taken care of.’
