by Jackie Walsh
‘Tell me, Rose.’ Rocking the buggy forwards and backwards, I sit down on the big green sofa that stretches the length of the window. Rose sits beside me, giving one last glance around to make sure the coast is clear before opening her mouth.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing important but a couple of weeks back, a young girl came in here asking questions about you. She was about your age. Red hair – pointy chin. I couldn’t tell if her hair was long or short because she had a woollen hat on. One of those trendy ones everyone’s wearing now.’
I want Rose to get to the point quickly but, having worked with her, I know that’s a mammoth request. Rose has always taken the long route, describing the scenery on the way.
‘If I remember rightly, she was wearing small gold earrings, nice ones.’ Rose rubs her ear. I let out a long sigh which seems to do the trick because she ceases describing the mysterious girl’s jewellery and continues with the relevant details.
‘She asked me how long you had worked here. At first I thought it must be something to do with the baby about to be born. Maybe the local paper from…’ Rose leans forward expecting me to finish.
‘Ballycall.’
‘Yes, Ballycall. So, I answered her… but then I got a bit suspicious when she asked if I knew if you had ever been in trouble with the law.’
Blood rushes to my head. ‘Did she say who she was?’
‘She introduced herself at the start but it didn’t register with me… anyway, I told her I knew nothing and she’d be better off talking to Amanda. Amanda wasn’t here so I gave the girl her number.’
‘Could her name have been Vicky?’ I ask, my head light, my hand gripping the handle of the buggy like it’s about to roll down a slope. It has to have been Vicky Murphy, but why? Did somebody send her?
‘I suppose it could have been Vicky, but honestly I don’t remember,’ she says.
‘Don’t worry about it, Rose. I’m sure Amanda will be able to tell me.’ I try to look unbothered while my insides twist into knots. Turning my attention to Shay, I swallow hard.
‘She never rang Amanda,’ Rose mutters, brushing down her skirt before joining me to look at Shay. ‘I asked Amanda about a week later, but she said she didn’t get a call from anyone asking about you.’
Rose puts her hand on my arm. ‘I just wanted you to know, Laura, in case you heard from someone that she was in here. I wouldn’t like you to think…’
‘No… sure, don’t worry Rose, and thanks for telling me.’
Shay opens his eyes, pulling our attention his way.
‘Hello, little man,’ Rose says, smiling into the buggy.
I’m smiling too, but I don’t know how.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Amanda arrives in the lobby full of energy and smiles – a stark contrast to how I’m feeling. Rose’s words have put a stop to my enthusiasm and now I have to fake it. I do intend telling Amanda what Rose said and asking if someone did contact her, but first I just want to get out of this building into the open air.
Amanda hurries over to Shay, pushing her long shiny hair behind her ear before bending over to kiss him.
‘Hi, Shay. How is my little boy?’ He’s not her little boy. Shay is mine but I let it go and attempt to act as happy as she is.
‘He really is a little beauty, Laura.’ Amanda continues to look into the buggy. Eventually she turns her attention to me.
‘Love the hair,’ she says. ‘Was Georgina on duty again?’
‘No, I did it myself.’ The comfort of small talk no longer satisfies me. I unlock the buggy and suggest we leave.
‘Can we go?’
‘Yeah, what’s the hurry? Is everything okay, Laura?’
‘Yes, I just need to move… this place is so stuffy.’
It’s not stuffy at all. In fact, there’s almost an echo. Amanda doesn’t say anything as she pushes the door open for us to leave.
Outside, I stand still, hands gripping the handle as I take a deep breath. Noticing my anxiety, Amanda becomes concerned.
‘What is it, Laura? Did someone upset you?’
‘No, it’s just…’ I’m hesitant, why am I hesitant? I should be able to ask Amanda straight out if someone contacted her about me. But if she says yes, that means she hid it from me and I’m not sure I can handle any more disappointment. If she says no, then I’m left wondering what the hell Vicky Murphy wanted to know about me. Why was she so interested in my past?
‘I’m fine, it’s just… coming back here, seeing everyone… I don’t know why but it freaked me out a bit.’
‘Here, let me take him.’ Amanda pushes into my space and takes the buggy from me. Walking alongside her I feel strange; something is missing. I’d rather be pushing the buggy myself but I don’t say that. Instead I keep my eye on her every move while watching the path ahead for obstacles.
‘Well, are you going to tell me?’ she says, carefully manoeuvring the buggy through the growing crowd. It’s lunchtime in the city, all the suits have to be fed.
‘I’m fine now, I got a bit overwhelmed back there.’
Amanda takes her eye off the buggy to glance at me. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, positive, now where are we going for lunch?’
‘You pick.’
* * *
Luigiani’s is just as I remembered it: bright with wooden tables, hand-painted murals and the smell of garlic, tomatoes and freshly baked bread. Vanni is behind the counter when we enter. When he sees us come through the door he shouts out loud: ‘Amanda, Laura… welcome.’ He remembered my name, I can’t believe it.
From the back of the shop, Anna the waitress rushes to seat us, commenting on the new customer in the buggy. ‘A beautiful boy,’ she says. ‘Congratulations.’ She thinks the baby belongs to Amanda because she’s pushing the buggy.
‘No.’ Amanda says. ‘This is Laura’s baby.’ And she laughs as she adds, ‘Don’t jinx me.’
‘Oh, Laura’s baby! Congratulations, Laura.’ Anna pats me on the shoulder before leading us down to a table that has room for the buggy. Shay is asleep, but I know that won’t last much longer. He’s due a bottle soon but with a bit of luck I’ll get to eat my pasta first.
When we’ve given our order Amanda leans over the table, placing both her arms on top.
‘Okay, what is it?’ she says. ‘I know something’s happened so there’s no point in you trying to hide it.’ She could always read me. Ever since we were kids, Amanda knew if something was upsetting me, exciting me or scaring me. It’s like she could read my mind.
‘It’s nothing really, just something Rose said.’
Her eyes stare at me without blinking. She is not letting this go.
‘She said someone was asking questions about me.’
Amanda sits back. ‘Who?’
‘She didn’t know her name; she came in and asked about my past.’
‘Why? What did Rose tell her?’
Amanda seems surprised and confused. But then, unlike her, I could never read her mind.
‘Nothing much; she said she gave her your number.’
Straightening her back into the chair, Amanda prepares her defence. ‘No one rang me asking about you. When is this supposed to have happened?’
‘A few weeks back, so it doesn’t really matter now.’
‘Why are you so bothered by it then? If you think it was nothing.’
‘She described a girl, I think it might have been Vicky Murphy?’
‘Fuck… are you serious?’
‘Yeah, well, it could have been, especially as we know she was studying investigative journalism.’
‘But…’ Amanda leans forward again, her face animated by the possibilities. ‘Jesus, Laura, why would she be asking about you?’ She pauses briefly, squinting her eyes in concentration. ‘Unless she was using you as an exercise. For her classes, like. Some project they were given. You might have been the only person she knew who came from Dublin…’
‘Bit of a scoop, that,’ I say, putting
an end to Amanda’s attempt at easing my worry.
Amanda shuts up, she knows that would be too much of a coincidence. Vicky Murphy was looking into my past. But why? Did someone hire her? How much did she find out? And who did she tell before she was killed? I thought it was over, that I’d finally buried my past, kept it hidden from my new perfect life. But I was wrong. The soil has been disturbed, someone is trying to dig it up.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘What about this one?’
We’re in a small shop specialising in christening gowns and communion dresses and Amanda is holding up a tiny white satin suit. The sun, shining through the shopfront, is bouncing off it, making it look like an angel in her hand.
‘No, I want a gown.’
This christening gown will be worn by all the children Conor intends for us to have, so a shiny satin suit is not going to do it. What if our next child is a girl? I hope it is but not for a while yet. Not for a long time. I hope Conor isn’t disappointed when I tell him I want to wait at least five years before having another baby. He was so animated when he spoke about having many children. Conor said he hated being an only child. It put him under a lot of pressure to perform all the time. Be the best at this. Be the best at that. The Super Trouper was always shining on him. There was no one else on the stage.
Unlike me, who was always in the shadows. Amanda was the one lit up. The one who attracted all the attention. Even when we were kids, my mother called out her name first. I know it’s a small thing but it did annoy me, especially as I was the oldest. ‘Amanda, Laura, dinner’s ready. Amanda, Laura, did you do your homework?’ There were even times when she left my name out altogether, like she’d forgotten it or something. But it suited me not to be in the spotlight.
‘What about this one?’ Amanda laughs, holding up a big puffy white satin gown with layers and layers of tulle below the skirt.
‘Hah, can you imagine Maggie’s face if I arrive home with that?’
Amanda is still laughing and trying to figure out how someone would get a baby into the massive christening gown, but I’m not laughing. Rose’s revelation won’t let me. What was Vicky Murphy doing asking about me? I was wrong coming to Dublin today thinking it would take my mind off what Pat had told the cops about Conor. I should have known things would get worse. They always do.
I’m about to give up. None of these gowns are what I’m looking for anyway. In my head, I have a picture of what I want: Shay’s face glowing in a simple lace gown with little puckered arms, no bows, no diamonds, just lace. I realise I’m searching for my own christening gown. The one in the photos of Mam holding me on her lap, the white lace gown cascading down her side. Amanda is still searching through the rails when I say: ‘I wonder if Mam would give me my gown?’
The words float across to where Amanda is standing still, her hand frozen to the rail. She doesn’t turn to look at me. Her head lowers for a moment then she moves back to look at the gowns.
‘That’s not going to happen Laura, keep looking,’ she says.
My sadness is disturbed by a voice behind me.
‘Can I help you?’ I turn to see an old man standing there. Thin as a famine victim, his trousers are kept off the floor by a pair of checkered braces. Around his neck, a much-used measuring tape hangs. When he speaks his voice is gentle, probably from years of dealing with the indecisive.
‘I can’t find what I’m looking for,’ I say.
Amanda walks around from where she’s standing on the far side of the display cabinet, in case she’s missing anything.
‘I was hoping to get something simple, beautiful… something made of lace.’
The man is nodding, urging me to continue.
‘Maybe with a tiny sleeve… or not, I could get a cardigan.’
He’s still nodding, what more information does he need? Pointing at the display in front of me I say, ‘These are all lovely but I wanted something… maybe a bit more old-style, not so blingy.’
‘I think I might have what you’re looking for,’ he says.
The man disappears behind a curtain that divides the storeroom from the rest of us.
Amanda looks at her watch. ‘I hope he finds what you’re looking for soon, Laura, I’ve to head back to work. I’ve a presentation at two thirty.’
‘You go on, I’m okay here,’ I say, but deep down I’m disappointed. I was hoping Amanda would spend the afternoon with me, take some time off work. But that’s not going to happen.
‘Are you sure? I can wait another few minutes.’
‘No, go on.’
Amanda hugs me, telling me she hopes I get what I’m looking for and to drive home safely, she’ll ring me later. She will ring me later. I know that much but she won’t mention the fact that Vicky Murphy was asking about me. It’s how she operates. Worry doesn’t have a room in Amanda’s head. Unlike me, she is able to forget anything she wants. It’s always been that way. Forget and move on. Don’t let reality get in the way of a good time.
‘Something like this?’ Walking towards me, the man holds out a beautiful simple lace gown. There are no frills, no sparkles, no bows. A tiny ribbon of silk edges the neck and arms. It’s exactly what I’m looking for. I’m giddy with delight.
I look around to see if I can catch Amanda before she leaves, but it’s too late. She’s gone.
‘It’s perfect,’ I say, a wave of happiness surging through my body. Taking the gown from the man’s hands, I inspect every swirl of thread.
‘Look,’ I say, holding it over Shay who’s staring up at me from the comfort of his buggy. ‘Look what Mammy got you! You’re going to look so precious, little man.’
For the second time today, I’m excited. When I woke up this morning I couldn’t wait to get to Imanage. To see my old colleagues. To show off Shay and have lunch with Amanda. I was looking forward to my trip down memory lane.
My conversation with Rose had put a hasty end to my indulgent glee but now it’s back. With the bag holding the gown safely tucked into the end of the buggy, I make my way back to the car park, happy my visit to the city was not a total disaster.
I may not have gotten myself a new outfit for the christening, but I got Shay’s and that’s the important thing. And I’m grateful for that. Grateful for everything I have in my new world. I never dreamt I could be this lucky… after what happened. I’m going to enjoy every moment while it lasts because if someone does discover what happened, my new world will quickly disappear.
Shay is safely strapped into his seat and I’m about to strap on my own seat belt when I remember. Maggie. The picture jumps into my mind out of nowhere. It’s like I’m not meant to have a moment’s peace. The graveyard. Maggie handing an envelope to Vicky Murphy.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The drive home is a mixture of satisfaction and confusion. If Vicky Murphy is the girl who called in to Imanage asking about me, did Maggie send her? But why? Something would have had to trigger that sort of action. But what? Nobody in Ballycall knows about my past. Not even Conor. Unless she wanted to find out why my mother wasn’t showing her face around the place.
The first time I met Maggie, I told her I didn’t speak to my mother. She didn’t question me as to why, and when I told her she wouldn’t be coming to the wedding, she just ran a pencil through the seat allocated for her on the seating chart and said nothing else about it. Which surprised me. Why didn’t she ask me why I didn’t talk to my mother? If she had asked me I would have told her the same thing I told Conor. We fell out over some inheritance my father had left me. I know it was a lie; I’m not proud of it. Especially because it makes my mother look like the bad person. But I could not tell the truth.
The evening shadows drift in and out of the car as I drive through the village of Ballycall. Arriving at the gates of our house, I feel my anxiety levels rise. I’m almost expecting to see a cop car parked outside. The driveway is empty. Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to relax. Don’t always be expecting the worst. Lifting my
son out of the car, I go into the house.
‘Well, what did you think of your trip to Dublin, Shay?’ I find myself talking to Shay a lot. Does that make me a bit mad or sad? Or is it just what mammies do? He seems to like it. His whole body wiggles with the attention.
‘You were the best boy today, Shay. Mammy loves you sooooo much.’
I lean over and kiss his face, inhaling his addictive scent. I can’t wait for him to answer me. To tell me he loves me. I wonder what his first word will be. Mamma? Dadda? I’ll be happy with either just so long as it’s not Nana.
Speaking of Nana, I feel like she has a camera on me. I’ve just about settled Shay into his crib when my phone beeps. She’ll be wanting to know where I was and why. Well she can wait. First things first.
The photo of Vicky Murphy is in the drawer where I left it. With my phone hovering above it, I take the best shot I can and forward it to Rose.
Is this the girl who was asking about me?
Now I have to wait. Rose won’t have finished work yet and she’s one of those people who sticks to the rules. No personal mobile use during working hours. I was one of them too. Afraid to step outside the rules. Afraid of getting burnt… again.
Taking the christening gown from the bag, I allow myself a moment of happiness. This is going to look beautiful on Shay. Really holy. My mother would have loved it.
I don’t think about my mother too much because it hurts. Forgiving should have come naturally to her. She’d spent so much time in the church where forgiveness was a big part of their gig. Forgive thine enemy. Forgive thy neighbour. Forgive those who hurt you. Forgive, forgive, forgive… I never remember there being a clause attached that says, except daughters. Do not forgive them.
The door opens. In walks Conor with his suit jacket open. His tie hangs loosely over his shirt. He walks directly over to the crib and finds Shay fast asleep.
