Excellent Danielle speaks to Harvey His Silence : His Silence - Chapter Seven by Jacob1395

Background When Harvey murders his parents, he refuses to say why he did it. Twenty years later, he's finally ready to talk. The murmurings of everyone else talking filters into my head. The brown haired, make-up woman lifts the baby out of the pram, and a broad smile appears on the face of the man sitting opposite. She turns the baby around so the man’s eyes and the baby’s meet. He reaches his hand out and starts squeezing it together, the baby murmurs. I force back tears and shift forwards, refocusing my attention back on Harvey. Harvey’s put on some weight since I last saw him. His muscles would be enough to make Rob jealous. What the hell am I thinking? It’s like I’m almost proud of him for thinking that. I can’t get over how pale he is. He used to tan really easily in the summer. He always seemed to have a darker shade of skin than me, even in the winter. ‘Um, so, I . . . I received your letter,’ I say, rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans. How can he say it’s so good to see me when I’ve been trying to see him for years and up until now he’s ignored me? Back then I thought he didn’t care. I swallow. ‘On my birthday.’    He wipes his eyes. How can he be the one who’s upset? I curl my feet together. The baby lets out a cackle. Did Mum hold me like that? Did she smile every time I made some sort of gurgling or excited noise? Harvey sighs. ‘I’m sorry for refusing to see you all these years, Danielle, but . . . you were so young, I didn’t want to . . . I wanted to protect you from everything I’ve been through,’ he says. I half-laugh. He can’t think he can say that to me, after all this time? ‘Protect me, are you being serious? You’ve made my life hell these past twenty years, Harvey. What was it, what made you decide to kill our parents? I’ve spent years trying to understand why you did it. I’ve had reporters chasing me down the street. We’ve had to get injunctions out to get them to stop writing stories about me.’ My fists shake as I squeeze them together. Oh God, I’ve raised my voice. Several people are staring at us from the other side of the room, their eyes wide. The last thing I want is for anyone to be talking about our visit after today. What the press would give to know this conversation between us was taking place. I flick my gaze back to Harvey and try my best to control my breathing. Harvey shakes his head. ‘You have every right to be angry at me, Danielle, I understand. But, you . . . you must believe me . . . I . . . I didn’t kill our parents.’ I sink back in my seat. The room spins around me as I process his words. What the hell? Harvey’s looking at me with imploring eyes. His hands shake. ‘I . . . .’ I don’t know what to say to him. I’m reminded of Michael’s words; take everything he says with a pinch of salt. There was no way on earth I was expecting Harvey to say this. He’s guilty. He’s got to be guilty. ‘But. . . you confessed. You confessed to killing them and then you refused to tell the police why you did it.’ I do my best to keep my voice soft. I want to shout at him, I want to tell him how his actions have left an impact on me. This time I can’t help tears escaping my eyes. ‘How do you expect me to believe –’ ‘I know, but I had no choice.’ Harvey cuts across me. This is crazy. I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry, Harvey, but why didn’t you put any of this in the letter you sent me?’ He wipes his forehead. ‘Because I was afraid the letter might get lost and someone else would read it,’ he says. Tears fall down his cheeks. I look away, focusing again on the couple with the baby. Nausea sweeps through me. ‘Look, Danielle, the first few years after I was arrested I was a mess, I was only fourteen. In the three weeks prior to the murders our lives had been upended by . . .’ he breaks off. It’s like he’s trying to work out what he should say next. ‘But I . . . I might be getting parole next year, I’ve been denied it in the past because of . . . it doesn’t matter, but I’m determined to get out, Danielle, and I . . . I can’t leave here with people outside still thinking I . . . how much do you remember about our lives before the murders?’ I flick my gaze around the room and wipe my eyes. He might be getting parole? That means he’ll be out. He’ll be out on the streets. I fold my arms tight across my chest and let out a shaky breath. I can’t meet him in the eyes. No one else appears to be paying us any attention thank God. ‘Um . . . I remember us living in this house where there were lots of other people, but none of the memories I have make any sense to me. I’ve never been sure if I’ve made the memories up, or if they’re real,’ I say. I still can’t get my head around what he’s said. It’s mad. It doesn’t make sense. He could be out next year. He could be out. I push the thoughts deep to the back of my mind. ‘I don’t even know Mum and Dad’s real names, the press, and everyone else think they changed them to stop them from being tracked down by whoever they were running from.’ He picks at the corner of his right eye and shifts in his seat. ‘You’re right about us living in a house. We were part of this community; we were one big family.’ I frown at him. An image flashes in my mind of people wearing white clothing, sitting at a long table. I picture Mum by the sink, and me clinging to her legs. I shake the images away. ‘You’re making it sound as though we were part of some sort of cult,’ I say. He can’t be innocent; this isn’t what I’ve been told all these years. ‘I don’t think . . . when the community first got together it intended to start out like that, I don’t think, it can’t be . . . well, anyway, at the start, it was a group of like-minded people. I was there right from the start with Mum and Dad. This was, obviously, before you were born. You were born there, Danielle, did you know that?’ I shake my head. This is insane. I grit my teeth. ‘There were only a small number of us back then, no more than ten. There was this bloke, Oliver . . . Oliver Adams, well, he’s still there, he . . .’ ‘Wait a minute,’ I say. ‘Are you telling me the same people, who we grew up with, are still there now? What the hell even is this place, what do they even –’ ‘Danielle,’ Harvey cuts across me keeping his voice low. He chews his bottom lip. Come on, Harvey, spit it out. ‘This place, it’s a . . . it was a sanctuary, created by Oliver who, who still runs the place now.’ ‘A sanctuary,’ I half-laugh as I sit back in my seat. ‘All I sort of remember is people wearing white clothing. Why did our family . . . why were we even there to begin with? I don’t remember them being religious fanatics.’ ‘Because Oliver was Mum and Dad’s best friend,’ Harvey hisses. ‘That’s why. Look, I . . . um, I had a visit recently from one of the people, who still live there,’ he says, blinking rapidly. ‘OK, so is this the reason why you wanted to see me?’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Not because you wanted to, but because someone told you to get me to come and see you?’ ‘No, they . . . they need you, Danielle, they wanted me to persuade you to go back to them, but . . .’ They need me. What does he mean by that? ‘But what? Why do they need me?’ I snap; then kick myself, knowing I’ve raised my voice again. At least no one appears to be watching us. ‘He . . . he wouldn’t exactly tell me why, but it . . . look, the answer to what happened the night our parents were killed is there, I’m certain of it, Danielle. I know you might not want to help me, I know you think I must be trying to spin some sort of story to get you to believe me. But, I’m telling you the truth. I wouldn’t lie to you, Danielle. You mean so much to me.’ I shake my head. If he means so much to me why didn’t he agree to see me years ago? I rub my forehead. There’s got to be something he’s holding back from me. If he thinks he’s innocent, he must have an inkling of who really killed Mum and Dad. ‘So what happened the night you killed . . . the night they died? It wasn’t just Mum and Dad. There was Ian, their friend.’ I think back to the article I read earlier today. Harvey shakes his head. ‘I don’t . . . the memory of that night is a blur, I remember, I remember telling you to hide in the wardrobe, I remember the police coming and taking me away, and the media frenzy that followed. But, the actual moments of the murders, I must’ve been . . . drugged somehow or . . . I don’t know, Danielle, I don’t know.’ He looks away from me. There’s something he doesn’t want to tell me. ‘I thought it . . .’ he breaks off and looks down at the table, tears slide his cheeks. ‘But, why did you tell me to hide in the wardrobe in the first place? Now, it sounds like you’re saying to me you didn’t know what was going to happen.’ ‘I’ve always wanted to protect you, Danielle,’ he says. He reaches his hand across the table and it’s like, for a moment, he wants me to take it. I refuse. I keep my hands under the table. He draws his hand back and swallows. ‘You’re so important to me. I’ve never stopped thinking about you while I’ve been in here. Please believe me.’ I replay his words over in my mind. His lower lip wobbles. ‘So, if you are innocent, like you say, what d’you want me to do?’ I ask, running my tongue around the inside of my mouth. ‘Danielle, if there was any other way, I wouldn’t involve you, but, you need to go back, you need to go back to where we came from.’ His voice shakes as he speaks. ‘Why?’ I ask, my voice rising again. To my right the baby murmurs. It’s almost a comfort. ‘It’s the only way to find out the truth,’ he says. ‘Please, Danielle, if I’m released next year and people still think I’m guilty, they’ll . . .’ He shifts his attention away from me. ‘I won’t be able to do anything, I won’t be able to get a job, I’ll be reliant on the government for help, I’ll . . .’ his voice cracks. ‘I want to get my life back, Danielle.’ I shrink back into my seat. This is too much. This wasn’t what I was expecting. ‘How can I trust you?’ I say. I want to believe him. I want to believe he couldn’t be responsible for what happened. A single tear slides down my cheek. If he’s innocent, then there might not be some sort of faulty gene in our family. I might not be a risk to others. Harvey keeps his gaze fixed on me. ‘Think about what we once had, Danielle,’ he says. ‘I want us to have that again.’ I wipe my eyes. But we can’t have what we once had again. I’m a grown woman, not a little girl anymore. ‘OK, so, like I said, what d’you want me to do?’ Harvey scrunches his hands together. ‘You need to get in contact with them, Danielle. They’ll . . . they’ll welcome you back. I have no doubt about that. They’ll love you, there’s no way . . . there’s no way they’ll hurt you, Danielle, I know they won’t.’ It’s almost like he’s trying to convince himself when he says the last part of his sentence.   I rub my arms. I hadn’t even thought of the possibility of Harvey ever getting out. I’d never even thought of a future that Harvey might be a part of. His last words haunt me, making my skin crawl. I need to be certain he’s innocent. I want to believe him, but I can’t help picturing him as a wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing. I shrug my shoulders. ‘Why don’t we see if we can get the press or the police involved?’ I suggest. Harvey shakes his head. ‘No, Danielle, you can’t involve anyone else, not at this stage. If the press get wind of this then they’ll twist everything, you of all people know that. They won’t leave you alone.’   ‘But what about the police?’ I ask. ‘Haven’t you spoken to them about this?’ He laughs. ‘I’ve tried. Look, when they kept pressing me for answers, after I was first arrested, I remained silent, I think it was . . . I don’t know why, but I think I was still under the influence of . . . or I just might’ve been in a state of shock, I don’t know. There were a couple of years when I didn’t speak to anyone at all. But I started to get these memories back. A few years ago now I tried to convince the police to listen to me, but . . . they didn’t do anything. I told them about this place but they were convinced I’d dreamt it up. As far as they’re concerned they’ve wrapped the case up, they don’t want to spend any more money on it. But if we were to give them evidence, they would be forced to.’ ‘What d’you remember?’ I ask. All I can picture is me cowering in the wardrobe, the only voice I heard was Mum’s shouting at Harvey to stop. ‘You’ve got to tell me something.’ ‘There was someone else there that night at the house when Mum and Dad were killed,’ he says, his voice barely audible. ‘I don’t know who, but I know they did it. That’s all I know. Danielle, please, you have to believe me.’ I don’t know what to say to him. What if he’s lying to me? ‘What are our parents’ names, Harvey, you haven’t answered my questions?’ He rubs his eyes. ‘Their names were Sally and Neil before . . . before they changed them to John and Laura, the names the press have only ever called them.’ I sit back on my seat, letting this information sink in. What were their lives like before they had Harvey and me, what were their hopes, aspirations and dreams? There’s so little information I know about them it hurts. Their names were Sally and Neil, at this moment I feel like I’ve reclaimed part of my identity.

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