by Jackie Walsh
‘Sorry, I’m just so nervous all the time.’
Amanda walks over to me shaking the bottle.
‘That’s perfectly understandable,’ she says. ‘Especially after…’ Don’t say it, Amanda. Don’t say it.
‘Anyway, you’re doing great, you’re going to be the best mammy ever.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes, I know so… Now, back to Vicky.’
Amanda is intrigued by the fact that Vicky Murphy was hoping to be an investigative journalist. She thinks that means she was investigating something that someone didn’t want her to. Did she discover something and was killed because of it? Maybe she discovered something about the brewery? Or something bad about a prominent member of the village? Something that put her in danger.
I wonder if that’s what the cops are thinking? I suppose it’s possible, but it’s also possible she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Met a psycho. Someone passing through. She may have tried to fight off an intruder. From the sounds of it, Vicky Murphy was a brave woman who wasn’t afraid of sticking up for herself. There were lots of stories about how strong she was for a small woman – one guy relayed how she had turfed two big men who were fighting out of the bar one night, single-handedly. Did that same bravery lead her into danger? Amanda is convinced she was investigating something that got her killed. She says I’m not to worry, and to stop thinking it has something to do with Conor. But how can I stop worrying? If it was nothing to do with him, why was I sent that card?
* * *
The door opens and in walks Conor.
‘Has Amanda gone?’
‘Yes, you just missed her… I thought you’d stay longer.’
‘Nope, I’d enough yesterday to do me a lifetime, how is my little man doing?’
‘Great, not a bother.’
Conor walks over to the crib.
‘Are the cops saying anything at all about Vicky?’ I ask, sprawled out on the sofa. I’ve already changed into my pyjamas and was just about to flick through the channels when Conor arrived home.
‘No, I don’t think they have a lead yet. But they will get the bastard. They have to, they can’t leave the village in fear of who could be next.’
‘What?’ I jump into a sitting position. ‘Do they think it could be a serial killer?’
Conor can tell he’s frightened the life out of me.
‘No, not a serial killer, Laura. I’m just saying people will be nervous. Aren’t you nervous?’
‘Not until now. Fuck’s sake.’
Pulling myself off the sofa, I walk to the window and look out at the vast space at the back of my house that a serial killer would find quite easy to navigate.
‘Sit down, Laura, it wasn’t a serial killer, it was probably someone Vicky knew. It usually is in these cases.’
Conor is right. I’ve seen enough on the TV to back up that particular scenario. It’s usually someone close to the victim. Which, according to my estimate, could be anyone in this village; they’re all close here, too close, if you ask me. I watch him unzip his jacket. A cold shiver runs down my body. Maybe the killer is someone I know too. I shake the thought from my head and walk over to the crib. Now that we’re talking, I think I’ll probe him a bit more.
‘Have you any suspects in mind?’
He takes the remote from the sofa and sits down before saying, ‘No, I don’t, in fact I’m finding it hard to believe it could be anyone from the village.’
‘You know most people who live here, don’t you?’
‘Yes, and not one person comes to mind.’
‘Do they all like you?’
‘Well, that’s a funny question.’ He presses the remote and waits for the TV to light up. ‘I don’t know the answer to that, and I don’t really care, Laura.’
He pats the cushion on the sofa for me to sit down. I check that Shay is still asleep – dark tufts of hair, eyes closed, his little head sticking out from the top of the blanket. The nurse said it isn’t necessary to cover him all the time if the room is warm, but I like to make sure he’s snug and safe, wrapped up tightly, where nothing can harm him.
I am hoping Conor might elaborate, mention one or two enemies of his, someone who may have sent the card, but he’s not giving anything away.
‘There was an old man,’ I say. ‘He started talking to me in the pub but when he realised I was your wife he turned away.’
‘Runner.’ Conor laughs. ‘Don’t mind him, he’s a nut job.’
‘Why do you call him Runner?’
‘I don’t know, it’s what my father always called him. They had a falling out and he hasn’t spoken to me since.’
‘Is there anyone else?’
Conor turns his attention from the TV and looks at me.
‘Why all the questions, Laura?’
Now’s my chance; I have to tell him about the card. He could put my mind at rest. Maybe even tell me who he thinks sent it. This is it, I’m going in.
‘Conor…’
I’m interrupted by the doorbell. Conor jumps out of the seat to answer the door. I’m left with my mouth open in mid-sentence. The moment is gone, and when I see who bursts into the kitchen, four gins to the wind, I realise it won’t be coming back tonight.
Chapter Twenty
‘I hope you don’t mind us popping in like this, but Helen just had to see the baby.’
Maggie sounds even louder with drink on her. By her side is a woman of the same age, dripping in jewellery and covered in face powder. The scent of perfume invades the room. Did she spill the whole bottle over herself?
‘Laura, this is Helen; Helen, Laura.’
I shake her hand and suddenly I become conscious that I’m wearing pyjamas and it’s only about five o’clock in the evening.
‘I was just telling Helen how good a father Conor is.’ She turns her head around to look at Helen. ‘He gets up in the middle of the night to feed and change the baby.’
It takes a little more effort than usual for Maggie to walk in a straight line, but she manages it and heads to the crib.
‘That never happened in my day,’ she huffs.
Knowing this will not go down well with the new mammy, Conor interrupts.
‘Laura is the real hero here. She has everything under control. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’ He pulls me close to him and hugs me. Resting my head on his shoulder, I inhale his scent. That’s one for me.
The baby has woken – hardly surprising with two old dears breathing gin down his neck. Shuffling in between them, I lift Shay and rock him over my shoulder. Helen has run out of words to describe how lovely he is. Of course he’s the image of his father and Maggie is standing so proudly, it’s as if she dreamed him into existence.
‘Would you like a coffee, Helen?’ Conor asks.
I stare at him but he doesn’t see me. The last thing I want is these two women hanging around when I should be relaxing in my husband’s arms with Shay resting on my chest.
‘I’m sure they’d like to get home. It’s been a long day.’ I say.
‘Actually,’ Maggie giggles, ‘if you don’t mind Conor, we’d love a G and T.’
‘Sure.’
The room has suddenly become a prison cell. How am I going to handle listening to these two yapping on? Maybe I’ll say I’ve a headache, that I have to lie down. Conor can entertain them.
After placing two glasses on the counter, Conor leaves to get the gin from the drinks cabinet in the front room. Maggie and Helen have removed their coats and are making themselves comfortable on the two chairs each side of the TV. I’m sitting facing them, Shay asleep in my arms. I’m hoping to make my exit as soon as Conor reappears.
Helen leans towards me, whispering in a low voice. ‘Did you hear what they’re saying about Vicky?’
My fake headache has suddenly disappeared. Shaking my head in reply, I wonder what I am going to hear. Did they find her killer? Had Vicky something to hide?
‘Well,’ Helen looks behind her as if
making sure no one is listening in. How drunk is the woman? There’s no one else here. ‘Apparently, she wasn’t quite as single as everyone thought—’
Maggie interrupts. ‘What Helen is trying to say is that rumour has it, Vicky Murphy was having a secret relationship with someone who is already married.’
‘An affair.’ Helen nods.
The judgmental silence is interrupted by Conor walking into the room, holding the gin in his hand.
‘We have it’, he says, lifting the bottle to show the ladies.
‘What do you think of that?’ Maggie says, looking my way.
With my mouth open, my eyes jump from Helen to Maggie and back again.
‘Well…’ I really don’t have anything to say but they’re staring at me waiting for a disapproving response.
In the background, I hear the sound of gin gurgling over ice.
‘What do you think of what?’ Conor says, taking the glasses in his hand and walking towards the two women. Now their attention is on him.
‘Vicky Murphy. Apparently she was having an affair,’ Maggie says, reaching out to collect her prize. Conor hands the other glass to Helen.
‘Are we really going to go there?’ Conor says, walking away from his mother. Lifting another glass, he looks over at me. Gin and tonic is not on my list of things to do tonight – not in this company anyhow – so I shake my head.
‘Well… that’s the song of the whispers,’ Maggie says, the glass about to meet her lips.
‘And we all know how that tune goes,’ Conor says.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Maggie is annoyed by his response.
‘You know full well what I mean, let the girl rest in peace.’
Shuffling forward in her seat, Maggie turns her head and looks at Conor, her face older-looking without the smile. I’m bracing myself for a whole new experience. Maggie and Conor are going to disagree. This should be fun. They have never been anything but civil, over-the-top compliant with one another if you ask me. The prospect of some friction between them makes the whole intrusion tolerable. I’m almost sorry I don’t have a drink in my hand.
‘That was a completely different situation.’ Maggie says, a slight slur creeping into her delivery.
Conor ignores her. I’ve seen him like this before when people have tried to engage him in an argument. He’s calm, won’t be drawn into battle. But Maggie won’t give up.
‘Your father wasn’t killed, he had an accident.’
Still nothing from Conor. Eventually Maggie returns to her comfortable position to continue her discussion with Helen and myself, but a tiny whimper disturbs her plans. All heads turn to Shay who’s now crying in my arms.
‘I’ll change him,’ Conor says, the anxious expression leaving his face as he takes Shay from me and walks out of the room. The sound of Pat passing by the window steals our attention.
‘Are you okay with him living back there?’ Maggie says, her eyes staring at me above the near-empty glass. Shrugging my shoulders, I give her a half-hearted smile. I’m not comfortable enough to share my inner thoughts with this woman… yet. I hope in the future we can become close, that I can treat her like she’s my mother, not just Conor’s. I want to be able to share my concerns, plan big days for Shay with her, go shopping, share recipes. Things that I would love to do with my own mam but can’t. Maybe being close to Maggie would help fill that void.
‘I hated Pat living there,’ she says, looking over at Helen. ‘But Seamus wouldn’t get rid of him.’ Maggie drains the drops from the glass. ‘That’s why I left this house when Seamus died. Best thing I ever did. I’m delighted to have my own little space – no interruptions, no Pat walking into the kitchen whenever he likes.’
The drink has dissolved Maggie’s filters. I’ve never heard her talk like this. Conor told me his mother moved out of the house when his father died because she wanted a smaller place, that the old house was too big for her. He didn’t mention her dislike for Pat.
I need to turn the conversation back to Vicky. If she was having an affair, surely that changes things. A marriage at risk, the possibility of losing everything, the scandal. Whoever it is, he has to be a suspect. Such matters might not raise an eyebrow in the city but in a village like this… gold dust.
‘I wonder who Vicky was having the affair with?’ I say.
Both women look at me, their bodies drained of the energy they arrived with. Helen shakes her head.
‘No one knows. Or at least no one is saying.’
Someone has to know. The wife, maybe? A friend of Vicky’s? Someone knows. Will they tell the police? Have they told the police already? My mind flashes to the scene in the church when Olive refused Noel’s hand. Was Noel the one Vicky was having the affair with? Olive is definitely angry with him over something. And from what I can gather, Olive was Vicky’s closest friend, so if anyone knows, she does.
‘I couldn’t put my finger on it,’ Maggie says, her words slower, her voice lower, ‘but I always knew there was something about that girl, something I didn’t trust.’
Helen nods in agreement.
‘I thought you liked her?’ I said, thinking of all the tears shed, the condolences offered; Maggie dabbing her eyes with her cotton handkerchief when the coffin passed her by.
Taking a deep breath, Maggie straightens herself in the chair and ponders before saying, ‘It’s not that I didn’t like her… I didn’t really know her that well, never spoke to her outside of the few times I was in the pub.’
Helen is still nodding when Conor arrives in the room, rattling his keys.
‘Is Shay alright?’ I say.
‘Fast asleep.’ Conor winks at me. ‘Okay ladies, time to hit the road.’
* * *
Shay is still asleep when I walk into the bedroom. The big cosy bed calls out from the centre of the room, with its duck-feather duvet and puffed up pillows all wrapped in soft silky satin. The idea of watching TV no longer appeals to me so I take my book from the bedside locker and lie on top of the duvet waiting for Conor to return from dropping his mam home.
A part of me feels smug. Maggie was drunk, she tried to start an argument with Conor. She slurred her words and almost tripped down the stone steps outside the front door. She will probably feel very uncomfortable the next time she sees me. But the truth is, now I like her more. She’s not perfect either.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘I didn’t notice anything.’
‘Well, it was pretty obvious.’
Conor is denying seeing Olive purposely avoid shaking Noel’s hand. I asked him as soon as he came up to the bedroom. I don’t want to come straight out and suggest that maybe Noel was the person Vicky was having the affair with. Conor can be very defensive when someone he cares about is being bad-mouthed. It’s something I really like about him; he’s loyal to the end. He even defends Pat anytime Maggie slags him off.
‘Do you know of any reason she might be angry with him?’ I ask.
‘No,’ Conor says.
With one arm against the wall, Conor leans over the crib, staring at his son. He just can’t seem to get enough of him. The room is getting darker so I switch on the bedside light. I want to get a clearer picture. Seeing how happy he is with Shay fills me with pride. It also makes me feel safe. We’re a real family now, solid… I hope.
‘They always got on well as far as I could tell,’ he says.
Olive is Conor’s right hand when it comes to the business. She’s been his personal assistant since he took over from his dad. It must have been very difficult for Olive when they split up, going into the office every day, facing the man of her dreams who had handed her dream to another woman. I doubt it was a picnic for Conor either, even though he was the one who broke up the relationship. When we first started dating, I didn’t know he already had a girlfriend. He kept that one quiet. Only coming clean when we started getting serious. The kind of serious you get when you find out you’re pregnant.
Moving away from the crib, Co
nor slides onto the bed beside me and kisses my cheek. His arm reaches behind my back, pulling me closer to him. The woody scent of his aftershave kills the smell of Sudocrem in the air. Conor puts his lips on mine, caresses my tongue, pulls me tighter. If he’s thinking what I think he’s thinking, he can think again.
‘Conor.’ I pull back slightly and look into his dark green eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ I don’t want to disappoint him, I want to make love to him, to hold him, to be one again with him, but it’s too soon.
Conor smiles. ‘I just want to hold you, Laura. I love you.’ Snuggling into his embrace, I think about how lucky I am. The Caldwell family, all huddled together in the one room. How could I have doubted this man? He would never lie to me. But something shifts in my head. A fear determined to keep me on edge. Conor kept me a secret from Olive for a few weeks, lived one life here with her, another with me in Dublin. I don’t want my mind to go there, the murder, the card but… if he’s capable of that, what else could he be keeping secret?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Something is bothering me, chipping away even further at my serenity. But I’m not sure what it is. It’s something I heard earlier, something Maggie said.
Placing Shay into the crib, I walk to the window and pull back the curtain. I can see a glow through the trees in the distance. Pat must be up. Probably spent the evening sleeping off the drink and now finds he’s wide awake. I wonder what it was Maggie didn’t like about the man. I know walking in and out of the house without knocking would do it for me, but people are different down here. It’s not unusual for someone to help themselves to their neighbour’s hospitality.
There are times I can’t believe I’m here, shrouded in someone else’s family. I still feel like an intruder, but as times goes on, it’s getting easier. I must listen to what Amanda says. I deserve it, it’s my time now. The past is exactly that and there is no reason to go and visit it.
Amanda has always been my best friend. Sisters don’t always get on like we do. We share everything, including secrets. She stood by me when I needed her most. I’m not sure I’d have kept going if she hadn’t been by my side.
