But the guard was engrossed in her computer screen again and Edie wandered back to her spot, avoiding the gaze of the couple.
Trish was on the way back into her house, having finished helping Ellen hose the last strings of chocolate dog vomit from her railings, when Bernie stepped out her front door. She had no coat on and didn’t appear to be heading anywhere. She was there to either receive the gossip or impart it.
She looked at the rubber gloves in Trish’s hands and gave a sympathetic pout. ‘Quite the unmitigated disaster, wasn’t it? I could have told Ellen a treasure hunt was a terrible idea. It’s not like in the fourteen years I’ve been organising the idea never crossed my mind.’
Trish hated Pine Road, her neighbours and basically everything in that moment that was not her family and the inside of her house. ‘The police visit was less than ideal,’ said Trish pointedly, knocking on her door and willing Ted to hurry up and open it.
‘I didn’t call them,’ said Bernie. ‘I don’t know why they were here, but I took advantage of their presence and reported a crime. At least now justice might finally be served. We can all rest a little easier knowing that grievous bodily attacks do have consequences.’
Ted pulled open the door and the warmth of Trish’s house rushed at her. She almost collapsed into it.
‘When Sylvie recognised the dog, and the man responsible for it, I had to act,’ continued Bernie, straightening her cardigan. ‘It was their fault, coming back to our road again. People have to take responsibility for their pets. It was just fortunate the guards were already here.’
‘Carmody!’
Edie’s head shot up, and the door to the side of the waiting area opened again. She got to her feet and pulled on her coat. Finally. She was relieved to be done waiting, if not to see him.
‘Peter,’ she said, approaching her brother-in-law who was being led to the information desk to sign forms.
‘What’re you doing here?’ he said gruffly.
‘What were you doing on our road, more like?’ she countered, tired and hungry and sick of everything to do with Daniel’s family but particularly sick of Peter. ‘And why don’t you ever have that dog on a leash?’
‘Daniel’s been ignoring my calls, which isn’t really something I’m going to stand for, not from Two Straps, not when he’s already got me into a lot of shit.’ Peter caught the double doors as Edie pushed them open. ‘Me and Rocky were coming to see him. Then some auld one started going psycho, making up all these lies about Rocky and her daughter—’
‘Just shut up,’ barked Edie, when they were out of earshot of the guards. She rounded on Peter as they turned into the parking lot where she’d left Daniel’s BMW five hours earlier. ‘For once in your life, just shut up! I’m sick of you, interfering with Daniel, interfering with our life! You got Daniel into a lot of shit, not the other way around. You’re lucky anyone’s here to collect you at all. I wouldn’t have come, only Daniel begged me to. And you’re lucky being a terrible pet owner is all you were arrested for!’
Edie watched Peter’s face contort, making its way from shock to mockery to indignation. In the end, he wisely settled on silence. She’d had enough of him, she’d had enough of all of them.
‘Where’s Rocky?’ he said eventually.
‘Daniel rushed him to the vet. They’ll be home now.’ Edie pulled her car keys from her coat pocket. ‘I’d say he’s had his stomach pumped.’
FIFTY-THREE
Robin spent a lot of Sunday thinking about Edie. And Martha. And then, invariably, and for more time than the others combined, Cormac. She hadn’t seen him since he went to help with the rodent hostage situation and she stayed with Edie the previous afternoon. When she’d gotten back out on to the road, the action had calmed down and he was gone. He hadn’t found her to say goodbye.
‘What exactly were you expecting?’ she muttered as she folded Jack’s clothes, voice laden with a kind of disdain she reserved only for herself.
She’d been so distracted yesterday, and blanking his calls for weeks before that, and all for no reason.
She’d gotten it all wrong about Eddy. Neither she nor the father of her child had any role to play in what happened to Cormac’s family. How had she ever thought Eddy had the ambition, never mind the balls, to get involved in something like a tiger raid? Still, if she’d been presented with Daniel and her ex as the two possible suspects, she’d have gone with Eddy every time. Daniel just wasn’t the type.
Poor Edie.
And poor Martha.
But also – because it didn’t have to be a catastrophe for life to be unfair – poor her.
Ten times she must have picked up her phone, opened her messages and stared at the glowing screen. But every time she went to type, she was overcome by a memory of telling Cormac she liked him or taking his hand at the street party or pulling him closer in Edie’s house until the embarrassment burned so deep in her skin, she had to fling the phone away before her whole body caught fire. She consoled herself with how Cormac had looked at Jack when they first met – like someone checking their first-class ticket at the airport only to realise the flight left yesterday – and mustered up a new-found conviction that the relationship would never have worked anyway.
Which was why when the doorbell went as the sun was starting to set and she heard her mother open it, it took Robin several seconds to accept that she was hearing the very thing she’d been too afraid to admit she’d been hoping to hear.
Soft murmurings of the elongated voice her mother usually reserved for the phone and then his deeper, good-natured inflections.
Cormac.
She sat bolt upright from where she lay on top of the bed covers and regarded herself in the mirror.
She ran a brush through her hair and clambered to her feet, rushing to the stairs. She stopped herself from running as she saw his silhouette through the stained glass, and was just at the door when her mother was turning to call up to her.
‘There you are. It’s the hipster formerly known as a journalist.’
Robin peered over her mother’s shoulder, suddenly self-conscious. ‘So I see. Hi.’
‘I’ll just make myself scarce,’ said Carmel, who took her time relinquishing the door. ‘In the kitchen.’
Robin and Cormac stood looking at each other with polite, awkward smiles as they waited for her to disappear down the hall and the kitchen door to slowly, laboriously, creak shut.
‘I’m glad you—’
But Cormac spoke at the same time: ‘I just came to drop off Jack’s present.’
Robin looked down at his hands, which held a square box wrapped in Paw Patrol wrapping paper. ‘Oh.’
‘I felt bad when he said it was his birthday yesterday and I didn’t have anything to give him. I said I’d drop it off today. He made me cross my heart.’ Cormac made an X on his chest. ‘Literally.’
He gave her that glorious goofy smile, but only for a second. It fell so quickly she almost reached out to catch it. She didn’t like the controlled expression he was sporting instead; it didn’t suit him half as much as when his face was open and kind.
‘It’s not his birthday.’
Cormac frowned. ‘But he said . . .’
Robin shook her head. ‘He keeps telling people it’s his birthday but it’s not, not till June. I’ve tried explaining that what he’s doing is lying but it’s hard for the truth to compete when deceit keeps bringing in the presents.’
‘Clever.’ Cormac looked down at the latest haul. ‘Sure, take it, regardless. I’ve almost grown out of Play-Doh.’
‘Sorry.’ She took the box.
‘It was just an excuse to call, anyway.’
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Really?’
He shifted his weight from his right side to his left. ‘I wanted to clear the air.’ He pushed his hair away from his face. ‘You living across from Mum and everything. I didn’t want it to be awkward.’
Her face went limp again. ‘Right. Of course.’ H
e wasn’t here so they could rekindle whatever they’d had. He was here so it wouldn’t be awkward if they ran into each other. What had she been expecting? ‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ she said, voice aloof, lesson learned. ‘I’m moving.’
‘Oh. I didn’t . . . To where?’
‘I got a job. It’s just covering maternity leave, but it’s nine months, maybe more, and the money’s good. So, me and Jack are moving out. I’m going to view a flat tomorrow.’ Nearer to where you live, actually. Not that she said that. Part of her hoped she didn’t get the place for that very reason. She may have felt like a needy psychopath, but she didn’t want to come across like one.
Cormac’s forehead creased, his hand automatically going to his head though his hair hadn’t moved since he last pushed it into position.
‘It’s tough to find a place at the moment,’ he said eventually, awkwardly. ‘Housing crisis and that.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, equally redundantly.
He looked at her, gave a loud, deflated exhale and smiled hopelessly, catching her entirely off guard. Dimple, dimple, delicious dimple. How did he always manage to do that? To make it look like he had nothing to hide when, in reality, she couldn’t read him at all? But no. He was just clearing the air. Making sure difficult conversations like this didn’t get any worse.
‘I’m planning to turn up with three months’ rent,’ she added, annoyance shooting through her body. ‘I know it’s a bit unfair on the other people – I don’t even think they’re allowed to ask for that much in advance, legally – but I’m a single mother. As you know. So, I reckon I get a dispensation.’
‘Robin . . .’
‘I mean, there has to be some upside to it.’
‘I’m sorry about how I reacted, to Jack. I was taken aback. I wasn’t expecting a child. I mean, you didn’t tell me . . .’
She hated him. She hated his bumbling words and his stupid moustache. This was good. If he kept going like this, kept talking about Jack, she would be okay.
‘I froze, but it was just a surprise. That’s all. Once it sunk in . . .’ His eyes widened. ‘I like kids.’
‘That doesn’t sound great . . .’
‘I like your kid.’
Robin wrinkled her nose. She hardened her jaw. Cormac shifted awkwardly, glancing at the present now in her hands as if what? To prove his point?
So, great. He was accepting of kids. What a swell guy. What did he want from her? Holding his hand mid treasure hunt flashed before her eyes – a new memory to add to the bank of shameful moments – and her body spasmed.
‘How’s work?’ she fired abruptly.
His head jerked up. His face reddened. ‘It’s fine.’
‘That’s good.’ She shifted her weight. ‘Well, I better get going. I’ve got to get ready for work tomorrow and . . .’
‘Right,’ said Cormac, but the hurt way he looked at her caused her self-hatred to soar. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the job.’
Her limbs fizzed with discomfort. She squeezed her eyes shut. What was wrong with her? ‘Don’t . . .’
But he did anyway. ‘I should have just told you I worked in the wine bar. But technically, I didn’t lie. I said I went there for work. I do write theatre reviews, you know. And I did interview Pierce Brosnan, for this charity event he was involved in. I just—’
‘Jesus, don’t apologise!’ she insisted, no longer able to control the mounting self-loathing. ‘I was being an asshole. I’m not used to being rejected. I don’t handle it well. Obviously. Just another symptom of my over-riding selfishness.’
Cormac’s forehead creased again, his eyes darting across her face. ‘I didn’t reject you.’
‘No,’ she conceded. ‘Not directly, but—’
‘Robin, you rejected me.’
‘I did not!’
He made a loud hooting sound, half-laugh, half-exhalation. ‘You ignored my calls for three whole weeks.’
‘It wasn’t . . .’ But she couldn’t get her thoughts together fast enough to explain.
‘I froze, for a few seconds, when I met Jack. But then I told you, or rather Mum told you, about my job and you couldn’t get away from us fast enough. You ran into your house with Jack and then you refused to answer your phone until, as pathetic as I am, I finally got the hint and stopped calling.’
His pale skin glowed pink, just below the bones of his cheeks. His emotions always rose to the surface. Strawberries and cream. She could eat him up.
‘I get it. I wasn’t good enough for you.’
Robin laughed. ‘Are you crazy? I don’t care about your job. At least you have a job! I’m twenty-six and I haven’t been gainfully employed for five years – unless you count selling counterfeit goods for my ex. I didn’t answer your calls because . . . well, I thought he was the man Martha saw. I thought Jack’s dad had been part of the tiger raid.’ She paused, grimacing. ‘See? How white trash does that sound? I’m the one who’s not good enough.’
From behind, the kitchen door creaked and Robin turned just in time to see it closing again, a shadow disappearing behind. She put the front door on the latch so it wouldn’t lock and stepped out on to the small porch beside Cormac.
She looked at him, dimple deep on his left cheek, and sighed. ‘You’re such a good person it’s kind of embarrassing,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I basically only realised how shitty all my friends – not to mention me – were when I met you. Honestly. I’m in awe of it. You’re comfortable in your own skin. Do you know how rare that is? You just are the way you are and if anyone comments on it, you don’t get defensive or paranoid. What do you do? You smile.’
He was laughing now, silently, hand to hair, mouth wide and delighted.
She raised a hand and carefully poked him in the chest. ‘I know that might sound like nothing,’ she said carefully, ‘but that is not nothing.’
He took her finger from his chest and wrapped her whole hand in his.
She shuffled a fraction closer and they stood chest to chest, her hand in his, waiting.
And waiting.
‘Aren’t you going to kiss me?’
‘I would,’ he mumbled, glancing to the side. ‘But we’re standing right across from my sisters’ house and if they’re watching, I can guarantee camera phones will be involved.’
Robin went to tell him she didn’t care, when the front door of her own house flew open. Jack was up from his nap. She rarely put him down for a daytime rest but after all the sugar yesterday he’d barely slept last night.
He looked from Robin to Cormac, who stood apart now, but his eyes lit up at the present.
Robin watched her son weigh up his options. He took a step closer to Cormac, or more specifically to the present, then threw an eye towards his mother.
‘I have a secret,’ he announced.
‘Go on so, Jacko, we’re listening.’
‘It’s not for you, Mammy. It’s only for boys.’ He smiled sweetly up at Cormac, and the naïve fool smiled back. Jack watched carefully until Robin had taken two steps away from them, back into the hallway. Then Cormac bent down to his level. Jack didn’t yet know how to whisper. He just spoke at the same volume but closer to the person’s ear.
‘It’s my birthday today,’ he said, hand up to Cormac’s cheek. ‘I’m five.’
‘Jack Dunne, you big liar! It is not your birthday and you are to stop telling people it is.’
Jack looked at her like he couldn’t believe the betrayal. His little legs started to shake at the blind injustice. ‘But Mammy, it was my birthday before, and this man wasn’t there to give me a present!’
Robin rolled her eyes.
Cormac handed over the box. ‘Happy nearly birthday.’
Jack took the present and sauntered past Robin triumphantly, his little hips jutting from side to side. ‘Mammy! Sing!’
Robin sighed and watched as her mini egotist climbed the stairs, slowly and awkwardly because he refused to relinquish the present for a single sec
ond.
‘Happy birthday to you. . .’
‘. . .Happy birthday to you.’ Robin turned as Cormac’s voice joined in from behind.
She turned back to her son and they sang in unison. ‘Happy birthday dear Ja-ack, happy birthday to you.’
*** Pine Road Poker ***
Fiona:
Ladies!! My spy at the estate agents says they’re about to put a house on Pine Road up for sale!
Anyone know who’s moving??
[Fiona is typing]
Or what the asking price is?
FIFTY-FOUR
‘What did you say these boxes were for, again?’ asked Robert, standing at the bottom of the attic ladder as his wife carefully made her way up it.
‘I didn’t.’
‘All right. What are they for, then?’
Martha’s torso disappeared into the dark, damp space. She reached down, took her phone from her pocket, and turned on the torch function. ‘They’re for Edie and Daniel.’
‘What?’
‘Careful, Robert! You’re shaking the ladder.’
‘We’re giving them our moving boxes? A week ago, we were going to call the guards on them.’
‘You were going to call the guards,’ she corrected.
‘Because you said he was the man you saw at the tiger raid.’
Martha looked around at the attic, most of it still in the dark. There they were; stacked unevenly to the right. If she wanted to get them, she’d have to climb in, and she didn’t fancy covering these trousers in dust. Ellis could do it tomorrow. Slowly, she climbed back down the stairs.
‘I’ll wait for Ellis,’ she said, brushing down her sleeves. ‘He’s calling over tomorrow. Edie doesn’t need them till then anyway.’
‘Seriously, Martha,’ said Robert, following her as far as the bathroom door as she turned on the faucet and rinsed the dusty grime from her hands, ‘don’t you think it’s a bit strange that right when you think the husband was involved in the tiger raid, they decide to up sticks and move? Are you sure you weren’t right about him?’
Three Little Truths Page 32
