Not just talking to him, she thought, absent-mindedly picking back up the whisk; laughing with him, joking with him.
Outside, the echoing boom of Ellen’s voice disappeared and the general chitter-chatter started up, spooling slowly from her ear to her brain, like a growing swarm of flies.
She used the hand that wasn’t holding the whisk to steady herself at the worktop.
‘Martha.’
Her husband appeared in the kitchen and she jumped. But she didn’t drop the whisk. That was probably a first.
‘The girls are looking for you,’ said Robert. ‘They’re about to start the egg hunt.’
‘The treasure hunt,’ said Martha, overcome by a familiar out-of-body sensation.
‘Right, yes, the treasure hunt. Come on or we’ll miss the start. The woman organising is very keen on rules. I don’t think she accepts latecomers.’
‘Were you in on it, Robert?’ She looked straight at him, studying his face as best her concentration would allow. ‘Were you in on the tiger raid?’
‘What?’ Her husband’s face contorted grotesquely. ‘The raid on our house? No. Of course I wasn’t in on it. Why would you ask that?’
‘You were talking to him on the road, laughing with him.’
‘Who? What are you talking about, Martha?’
‘You were talking to one of the men who came to our house that day, the one who drove the car, the one I saw here before.’
‘No I wasn’t.’
‘I saw you, Robert! I saw you just now, laughing and talking with him.’
‘I swear to God, Martha, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Who were you talking to, then? Just now? The man outside that you were having a good joke with? Who was he?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Robert, looking at her like he had in the days after the raid, when he acted as though he might have to have her committed. ‘I was talking to loads of people, neighbours, one guy in a massive bunny costume. A couple of others in civvies. I don’t know. I was mingling.’
‘Muh-umm! Da-had!’
Orla came pounding down the hall, into the kitchen, wearing a reflective jacket, hair flying in sheets behind her. Martha could see her out of the corner of her eye but she kept her focus on Robert. She was waiting for the tell.
‘There you are,’ their daughter huffed, as if they were the truant children. ‘We have to go. They’re about to start the treasure hunt!’
‘I swear, Martha, I was just talking to some neighbours.’
‘Who? Which neighbours?’
‘I don’t know their names.’
‘Come on, Mum! Dad!’
‘How do you not know their names?’
‘I just don’t. Jesus, Martha. There’s a lot of people out there. I was making chitchat, not creating profiles.’
‘Dad!’ Orla pulled at her father’s sleeve and Martha switched her attention.
‘Go on without us, Orla. Your dad and I are talking.’
‘But Dad said he’d be my partner!’
‘You can be Sinead’s partner. Go on. Out.’
Orla threw her mother a very Sinead-like look. Was this the beginning of the teenager years? But she didn’t say anything. She just ran, loudly, out of the house.
‘If he’s out there, Martha, which I doubt, it has nothing to do with me.’
‘He is out there, Robert. You can’t convince me I’m imagining it this time.’
‘I didn’t convince you last time,’ he all but shouted. ‘You weren’t sure. I could only go on what you said.’ He took a breath. ‘Come on, then. Let’s go and see if we can find him. You can point him out to me.’
Martha stared at her husband. Was he mocking her? Trying reverse psychology? But his expression didn’t change. He met her gaze, eyes open, face giving nothing away. He moved towards the door and she went to do the same.
Then she stopped and turned. As if on autopilot, she lifted the large ceramic bowl of half-whisked cream from the counter. And she carried it outside.
FORTY-ONE
Robin watched helplessly as Eddy, now with Jack clinging to his back, ripped open the envelope and began to read the clue.
‘I belong to all, yet I belong to none. But at the bottom of it all, I am claimed by one.’ Eddy twisted around to match his son’s cheeky-monkey grin. ‘What do you think that means, Jacko?’
Beside her, Cormac was opening their envelope and holding out a card with the same riddle written on it. ‘Do you want—’
But Robin didn’t have time for clues or awkward niceties. She had to make Eddy leave. She couldn’t let Martha see him. The road was busy but not so much that she might miss Eddy altogether.
‘Eddy, please. I am begging you. I will meet you later. I’ll go with you now if you want to talk. Just not here.’
He hoisted Jack farther up his back and the boy giggled. ‘Is this about your new boyfriend?’ He nodded to Cormac. ‘Don’t want me to meet him? Is that it? Well, too late, babe.’ Eddy held out a hand.
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ said Robin, refusing to blush.
‘I’m Eddy. This is my son, and this used to be my woman. Until she repaid my years of looking after her by shopping me out.’
‘For God’s sake . . .’
Cormac reluctantly took Eddy’s hand and looked at Robin. ‘I’m Cormac. I’m not . . . My mum lives on the road.’
‘Good for you, Cormac. Anyway, me and Jacko better be off. We’ve got some eggs to hunt.’
Jack threw back his head and cheered triumphantly.
‘Just give me Jack.’
‘No!’ roared the boy.
‘Okay, Eddy, well done, you wanted to get to me and you have, you’ve succeeded. You win. Now please – please, please, please – just go. I’ll meet you at your flat in an hour.’
‘Eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs!’ shouted Jack.
The woman with the megaphone was in front of them now. ‘Have you two even read your clue? What’s the hold-up? Some of the others are on the second one already! Chop-chop! Let’s go!’
Robin glanced at Cormac and for a second, she faltered. Dimple, dimple, delicious dimple. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not in the headspace for this. Why don’t you go ahead?’
But Ellen was still in earshot and she came marching back. ‘What part of the rules do you people not understand? This is team building. Not glory hunting. No solo runs! Two people PER TEAM!’
Robin turned back to plead with Eddy, but he was gone.
‘Whose is this?’ Ellen demanded, picking Eddy’s fluorescent jacket up off the ground. Of course he wasn’t going to wear it. Ellen barrelled off, looking for the culprit. ‘All treasure hunters must dress appropriately!’
Was Eddy actually doing the stupid treasure hunt? He didn’t know anything about this road. And since when did he participate in party games? He wouldn’t even try pinning the tail on the donkey at Jack’s birthday last year.
‘Robin,’ said Cormac, ‘about that day, outside your house. I was taken aback. I wasn’t expecting Jack and—’
‘It’s not that,’ she interrupted, still searching around her. ‘Really.’ She didn’t have time to explain, even if she could find the words. Jack and Eddy were nowhere to be seen. But there was Martha, back outside her house. She was standing on the pavement, holding a large bowl. She was looking around her.
Martha was going to find Eddy before she did.
‘Fine,’ said Robin, swiping the card from Cormac. ‘Let’s do it.’ At least this way they could follow where Eddy went. ‘What’s the clue?’ The words were engraved in gold leaf on a solid cream card. How much money had been spent on this treasure hunt? ‘I belong to all . . .none . . .bottom . . .claimed by one.’
Ellen was back and about to rebuke Robin again when someone started shouting in the distance – ‘I know where the eggs are!’ – and she went flying off in the direction of the voice.
‘Who said that? Come on! Own up right this minute!’
&
nbsp; Robin felt Cormac’s hand brushing her arm and she stopped searching the crowd.
She looked at him properly for the first time since that day outside her house. How had she not noticed before how like Martha he was? Dark hair, pale skin, high cheeks. Her heart ached as her stomach churned.
‘I think it’s talking about the Occupied Territory, down the bottom of the road.’
‘Well, let’s go then,’ said Cormac, and he held out a hand.
Though she was stressed and fearful and knew it was a bad idea, she reached out and took it. And for a moment, as his fingers interlocked with hers, everything felt a little better.
FORTY-TWO
‘What are you looking around up there for, Edie? She’s not Jesus! She didn’t write the next clue in the goddamn sky! Get down on your useless knees and help me look!’
Edie didn’t know Fiona that well and she had noticed she could get quite stroppy when she had to fold early in their monthly poker games but she had not grasped just how competitive the woman was until now.
Gone was the smiley, squeaky-voiced woman who called everyone ‘hun’ and fretted about her children and house prices. In her place was a monster, hungry for victory and dairy-free chocolate eggs.
‘What are you waiting for?’ yelled Fiona, looking up momentarily from where she was scavenging around behind car wheels. She had oil all over her hands, and her hair, which had been perfectly neat just ten minutes earlier, was sticking out in all directions. ‘If those little shits find this clue before us, you’re going to pay for it!’
Sinead and Orla, who were searching a couple of cars over, slowed down and looked over at Edie uncertainly.
‘She’s not talking about you,’ Edie called back. ‘Keep going, girls, you’re doing great.’
‘I am so talking about them,’ growled Fiona, who was now feeling around beneath the wheel of Daniel’s car. ‘Little upstarts. Since when do lambs wear glasses, hmm? That’s not very anatomically correct, is it? Specky-four-eyes, know-it-all donkey . . . Get down here now!’
Edie got down on her hunkers. She was wearing her first ever pair of Cos trousers but reckoned the wool could withstand dirt better than Fiona clawing at it. She had just started to root around – ‘I already did that wheel, you half-wit!’ – when she heard Daniel behind her.
‘I finished your treasure hunt.’
Beaming, Edie scrambled to her feet. ‘I’m delighted!’ She was standing before she realised Daniel didn’t sound as delighted as her. In fact, he didn’t sound or look delighted at all.
‘It’s a pretty sick way of letting me know, Edie.’
‘What? Really?’ She almost stumbled as Fiona yanked at her trouser leg. Edie shook her off. ‘I thought it was lovely,’ she said, confused and a little hurt by Daniel’s reaction. ‘Wait. What did you find?’
‘I found the printout.’ He was so angry. Why was he so angry? ‘When did you find out?’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew?’
‘The printout . . .’ Edie tried to think. ‘I didn’t hide any printout. I don’t know what you’re—’
And then it hit her. Bernie Watters-Reilly’s Wanted posters. They were still under the Waterford Crystal bowl. Daniel had found the artist’s impression of Rocky, Peter’s dog; the dog he’d been minding when it bit Sylvie.
‘Oh no, Daniel! That wasn’t part of it. That wasn’t a clue.’
He was already making his way back up the road towards their house. She ran after him, ignoring Fiona’s cries. She grabbed his arm just outside Ruby’s house, where the lamb was now sleeping. Orla and Sinead ran up the road past them. They must have found the next clue.
‘Daniel, stop! I didn’t mean for you to find that, honestly. It wasn’t part of the trail I made for you.’
‘Why did you even have it, Edie?’ he shouted, brushing her off and still moving. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew?’
‘Someone gave it to me. I was going to say something but you were in a good mood again this last while. And it’s nothing to worry about. I promise. And if it is anyone’s responsibility, it’s Peter’s.’
‘It’s as much my responsibility as Peter’s,’ he said, moving to the side as more treasure hunters pushed past. ‘It’s really serious, Edie. The police are involved.’
Fiona appeared between them, throwing Edie a filthy look. She tripped on up the road, turning and shouting at her as she went. ‘Defector!’
‘No, no they’re not,’ said Edie quickly. ‘I found out yesterday. The police aren’t investigating.’
Daniel stopped again, a couple of metres from their house now.
‘Some of the neighbours told me. They heard it from Sylvie’s mother.’ Edie couldn’t stop the grin. ‘You can relax, Daniel. The police aren’t investigating.’
FORTY-THREE
The road was as busy as it had been earlier but the crowd more dispersed. Martha spied the girls heading out of the parking lot beside Shay Morrissey’s house, both wearing those yellow jackets. Ellen stood nearby, holding a clipboard.
The surrounding chitter-chatter dropped to a low hum and all the bodies melded into one. Martha felt like she was floating. She was up with the balloons, looking down on Pine Road, searching the crowd.
‘Is that the cream, Martha?’
Rita Ann was sitting at the table, wearing two scarves and chatting to a human-sized rabbit. Martha didn’t find this strange.
‘I’ve eaten the pavlova now,’ said her neighbour. ‘But it’ll be good to have some anyway. Have you tried the fondue yet? It’s very good. Isn’t it, Joe?’
The human-sized rabbit brought one paw to its stomach and patted.
There was no sign of the man from the robbery.
‘I’d take some cream for this walnut cake,’ said someone sitting on the other side of the table. ‘It’s a bit dry.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Rita Ann, heaving herself out of her seat. ‘I made that cake and there’s nothing dry about it.’
‘I only meant—’
‘You meant nothing. I’d say you have a saliva deficiency. Your skin does look dry, sort of scaly. You should get that looked at instead of going around insulting people’s cakes.’
Martha took a step towards the table, gripping the ceramic dish tightly with both hands.
‘I’m actually grand,’ said the chastised neighbour. ‘I was mistaken. I don’t need any cream at all.’
Rita Ann took her seat again and Martha was about to place the bowl on the table when the crowd parted slightly.
And there he was.
He was standing, talking to her neighbour, to her friend.
The bowl fell from her hands. It seemed to tumble slowly, turning over and over, the cream too thick to budge. It crashed to the ground, making contact with the pavement just as the music she hadn’t even noticed was playing came to a sudden halt.
It’s funny how you only notice the constants when they stop.
The bowl bounced once before shattering into three solid pieces, the cream spraying up and a sliver of white appearing on the leg of her dark trousers.
FORTY-FOUR
The music stopped and the sound of everything shattering resounded in Robin’s ear. She spun around and instinctively knew where to look.
Martha’s eyes were wide, her face pale and her hands held out in front of her, now empty, as if keeping something at bay.
It was too late. There was nothing Robin could do.
Martha had seen him.
Without looking around to see exactly where Eddy was, Robin ran across the road, stepping over three children drawing something on the pavement and ignoring her dad’s insistence that she taste whatever it was he was eating. She came the long way around the line of dining tables and stopped only when she was right in front of her neighbour.
Martha eyed her hesitantly. ‘I saw . . .’
‘I know.’
Cormac came running behind her. ‘Mum? Are you okay?’ He turned to Robin. ‘Is she okay?’
But Robin spoke only to Martha. ‘You saw the man who was at your house in Limerick. The same man you saw on this road a few weeks ago.’
Martha nodded, the skin around her eyes starting to crease.
‘What?’ said Cormac. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’m so sorry, Martha. I should have said something.’
But Martha wasn’t looking at her; she was staring behind, beyond, her eyes moving up the road. She said something else but the music started up again and the words were lost.
‘What was that?’ Robin turned to Cormac. ‘What did she say?’
But Martha spoke again, and she caught it this time. ‘Eddy.’
Her heart pounded. She wanted to vomit, to expunge the expanding dread. ‘I’m sorry, Martha, I knew it was Eddy and I should have told you. I wasn’t—’
‘No,’ said Martha, louder now, more abrupt. ‘Edie.’ Her voice and awareness returned, as she pointed up the road. ‘The man I saw is the man with Edie.’
FORTY-FIVE
As Edie followed Daniel up their garden path, a stream of neighbours ran ahead, pounding through the front door and up their stairs.
‘Tell them to leave,’ said Daniel, pushing past a pair of teenagers who had tied their high-vis jackets at the belly button like crop tops.
‘I can’t. I agreed they could use our house for the treasure hunt.’ She followed Daniel into their office and Orla went to push past her. ‘It’s not in here.’
The little girl gave her a sceptical look, her mouse ears looking even sadder than earlier.
‘I promise. It’s somewhere upstairs.’
Orla ran back out of the room and Edie closed the door behind them.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘If it’s not about Peter’s dog, then what is it about?’
‘Will you stop talking about dogs?’ retorted Daniel, his voice strained and desperate as he paced the room before finally sitting in the armchair by the window. ‘It has nothing to do with a dog.’
Three Little Truths Page 28
