The Grace Girls

by Geraldine O'Neill

  Fintan looked up at the round wooden clock on the wall that had come as a wedding present from Ireland over twenty years ago. ‘She said that the roads were a lot clearer this morning and they’d be setting off as soon as the smaller roads had been gritted.’

  Mona’s head moved from side to side in thought. ‘I’d be wary letting a young girl go off on her own for the night,’ she said, ‘now there’s murderers and rapists on the loose. Who else was with her?’

  Sophie glanced at Fintan. ‘I suppose that Larry fellow was still there, he picked her up as usual . . . and then there would be the band.’

  ‘All men?’ Mona asked, her voice high.

  ‘All working men,’ Fintan said. ‘Men that would look after Kirsty, the same way the local band looked after her when she was out with them.’ He went over to the back door now and lifted a galvanised bucket and a small shovel, and then headed into the living-room to attend to his morning task of emptying the cold ashes from the grate, and then relighting the fire with paper and thin wooden sticks and any hot cinders that were left.

  ‘Will you have a cup of tea?’ Sophie asked, holding the teapot up. ‘I just made a fresh one for Heather. She’s just getting washed, she’ll be down in a minute.’

  ‘Go on,’ Mona said, pulling one of the chairs out from the table. ‘I might as well. The lads have all had their breakfast, and there’s only our Patrick left. He can sort himself out.’ She smoothed down the skirt of her apron. ‘We’re all going to have to be more vigilant now, with a madman on the loose. God knows when or where he could strike next.’ Mona tutted several times to herself, a tortured look on her face. ‘Ye’ll have to keep a close eye on them girls now. You wouldn’t want them to be travelling around too late at night, or walkin’ home in the dark or anythin’ risky like that.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll be keepin’ an even closer eye on them,’ Sophie assured her. ‘Who would believe that we’d ever have to worry about murderers near Rowanhill?’

  Heather came down the stairs now and into the kitchen. ‘Who’s been murdered?’ she asked, her eyes moving from her mother to her aunt. She was grateful that Mona wasn’t still going on about Gerry’s funeral or making sly digs about Liz being in hospital. Although she’d had a good night’s sleep, she still felt very fragile over the whole thing.

  ‘Did I hear somebody saying there’s been another murder?’

  ‘A whole family!’ Mona stated, delighted to have someone who was as interested in the shocking story as herself. She would have preferred Kirsty to chat it out with, but since she wasn’t available, Heather would just have to do. And at least she would have a better grip on what was happening in the world than the feather-headed Sophie.

  Chapter 57

  When they heard Larry’s car pulling up at the gate, Sophie and Fintan had gone rushing to the door to make sure it was Kirsty home safe and well. The talk of the nearby murders had circulated all around the village, and was now the main thing on people’s minds. Larry had come out of the car to assure them that Kirsty had been well looked after by the hotel and that no harm had come to her.

  ‘The weather is something you’ll have to take into account from now on,’ Fintan said, his face dark with worry. ‘And if you’d set off and got stuck in one of those back roads you could have been frozen to death by the morning.’

  ‘That’s exactly why we didn’t set off,’ Larry agreed. He then reiterated Kirsty’s point about the staff having to stay the night as well, and how it was a case of being sensible and practical about the situation.

  ‘It’s different for a man being out all night,’ Fintan continued, ‘but anything could happen to a young girl in these hotels. You don’t know who could be watching what room she went into, especially now we have that madman on the loose.’ He shook his head. ‘We’ll have to think carefully about the singing until he’s caught, or until the long dark winter nights are over.’

  Kirsty’s stomach clenched at the thought of their nights out together coming to a halt. She bit her lip, terrified of saying something that might antagonise her father any further. Most of the time Fintan was fairly placid, but she knew he was more than capable of putting his foot down if he thought it was necessary.

  ‘We’ll certainly be very careful about the bookings after this episode,’ Larry agreed in a low, serious voice. ‘And I’ll warn the more remote places that we’ll be cancelling if there’s any threat of severe weather.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Fintan said, brightening up now, ‘fair enough.’

  ‘Will you come in for a cup of tea or a bowl of home-made hot soup or something?’ Sophie offered. ‘You’ll need something to warm you up.’

  Larry paused. Then, without looking at Kirsty, he said, ‘A bowl of soup would be lovely, Mrs Grace, and it might just give me the chance to tell you both how well your daughter is doing.’

  Kirsty caught her breath. This was the first time Larry had got involved with her family. He had just had a few polite words with them before, letting them know where Kirsty was going and assuring them she would be seen home safely. But coming in for a plate of her mother’s soup was a different matter, and Kirsty wondered if they would be in any way suspicious.

  There had only been the four of them around the kitchen table, and as they all sat enjoying the soup and bread, Fintan asked Larry about what part of Dublin he was from and all the things that people from the same country who live in another country ask. Then, they moved on to chat more generally about the weather and the murders and the terrible tragedy that had happened to Gerry Stewart.

  Kirsty had been terrified to look Larry too closely in the eye, in case they gave anything away, but any time she did look across the table at him, she was amazed at how easy and relaxed he was with her parents. She wondered just how they would react if they knew how their business relationship had suddenly changed into something much more. She wasn’t too worried about her mother, but she had a feeling that her father wouldn’t take to it too well – especially if his attitude towards her staying in the hotel was anything to go by.

  When the meal was finished they sat for a few more minutes and then Larry got to his feet.

  ‘That lovely soup was just perfect for a cold winter’s day,’ he said to Sophie, bringing a pink tinge of delight to her cheeks. Then he shook hands with Fintan and said he must head home and get things sorted out for the evening, as he had a new band playing in Glasgow and he wanted to take a run out for a couple of hours to see how they got on.

  ‘As long as you don’t hit snow again this evening!’ Sophie laughed. ‘You wouldn’t want to be stranded two nights in a row, and definitely not out in Glasgow.’

  Then Kirsty had walked with him out to the car on her own. ‘I can’t believe that’s just happened,’ she whispered as they walked along. ‘You didn’t say you wanted to meet them.’

  ‘It had to happen sooner or later,’ Larry said quietly. ‘I want them to get used to me, and get to know me. And they seem like lovely people, which isn’t a bit surprising since they have such a lovely daughter.’

  ‘Oh, you know all the right things to say.’

  ‘We’ll go for that meal on Tuesday night, and I’ll pick you up around seven,’ he said to Kirsty as he got in the car. ‘Although I haven’t a notion how I’m going to get through the next two days without seeing you . . .’ He halted, then he reached into the glove compartment. ‘I’ll give you my business card, it’s got my address and phone number on it. Maybe you might give a ring . . . or even if you could get away for an hour or two tomorrow afternoon or something, we could meet up?’

  A broad smile broke over Kirsty’s face. ‘I’ll definitely ring you tomorrow – are you in all day?’

  Larry nodded and laughed. ‘My one day of rest, I sit in all day reading the Sunday papers and listening to the radio.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I can even watch the telly now in the evenings since I treated myself.’

  ‘And will you cook for yourself?’ Kirsty asked, her vo
ice high with surprise.

  Larry nodded. ‘It was one of the things they taught me in the home . . . I can cook more or less anything.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ Kirsty whispered, looking into his eyes. ‘Even more impressed.’

  ‘Weren’t you terrified staying in a big old hotel room all on your own?’ Sophie asked when she came back into the house.

  Kirsty shook her head, trying to answer the question without telling a direct lie. ‘I wasn’t a bit frightened,’ she said. ‘The hotel was lovely and we were well looked after. I was more worried about you and my daddy thinking I’d done a bunk or something – and then when we heard the news in the hotel about the murders I raced to the reception to ask them to let me phone a message through to the post office.’

  ‘Well, luckily the postman came before we knew you hadn’t come home,’ her father said now. ‘But even though we got the message we were still worried about you being out all night with people we don’t know very well. And especially with the majority of them being men – men behind the bar and men in the band and that kind of thing. It’s no place for a young girl to be out on her own.’

  Then, when she could just imagine the awkward questions forming in her father and mother’s minds, she went quickly on, trying to fill in the answers for them, ‘Och, there was actually plenty of girls and women,’ she told them. ‘I got chattin’ to this lovely young waitress from Carluke, and she ended up having to stay the night as well. Quite a lot of the staff couldn’t get home because the taxis were taken off the road. I think they have to do that regularly in the winter – it’s because a lot of the roads are narrow and on severe slopes. The slightest bit of ice or snow makes them very dangerous for driving.’

  ‘Well, it’s a place you’ll have to think twice about going to again,’ Fintan warned.

  Sophie nodded her head. ‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘The Clyde Valley is very high up. And you say you had a room all to yourself?’

  Kirsty nodded. ‘A lovely big double bed, and the cover of it matched the curtains and chairs.’

  Her mother looked very impressed. ‘When I do the bedrooms up again,’ she mused, ‘I must have a go at matching things up.’

  Kirsty heaved a secret sigh of relief. She had got away with it. But she and Larry would have to be very careful from now on, until they picked the right time to tell everyone about them. They had driven very carefully from the hotel down into Lanark and then taken it very slowly out into Carluke and then Wishaw. When they got there and realised they would be parting from now until a rehearsal on Tuesday night, Larry suggested that they stop off somewhere quiet for a cup of tea or coffee.

  ‘I want us to go out properly, Kirsty,’ he had told her earnestly, holding her hands across the café table. ‘I want to take you for nice meals or to a show or the pictures . . . all the things that couples do. I want to make up for all the things we could have done at Christmas . . . all the time we’ve wasted.’

  Kirsty’s heart had just soared and soared. She had not the slightest doubt in her mind that Larry Delaney was the man for her. The man she would spend the rest of her life with.

  ‘Maybe we could cut the rehearsal short and go out some­where for an hour on Tuesday night,’ Kirsty had suggested.

  ‘Maybe we could just cancel the rehearsal completely,’ Larry had said, laughing, ‘and have the whole night to ourselves. You don’t even need to rehearse, Kirsty. Your singing comes so naturally to you, and you learn the new songs easily.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘You didn’t need half the rehearsals we did – I only organised them so I could keep seeing you regularly and hear that fantastic voice.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Kirsty had asked, thrilled with this little piece of news. It made her feel a lot better because she still felt embarrassed thinking back to the night she had let all her feelings out.

  ‘I’m very serious,’ Larry had said. ‘And I’m determined that we’ll see each other more from now on.’

  They had crawled back at a snail’s pace into Rowanhill – dreading parting from each other – and the only two people in the village not talking about the murders.

  ‘Where’s Heather?’ Kirsty asked now. She had decided she would let Heather in on her unbelievable secret, and was anxious to relive every minute of it all telling her sister.

  ‘Liz came out of hospital today and Heather went up to visit her half an hour ago,’ Sophie said. ‘You might want to take a wee walk up to see her yourself. The poor girl’s bound to be in a terrible state. People are saying that it might have something to do with the shock of Gerry Stewart’s accident. She was there when it all happened.’

  ‘D’you think it might have had anything to do with it?’ Kirsty asked in a quiet voice.

  Sophie shrugged. ‘It could well have . . . but then miscarriages can happen at any time.’

  Liz was sitting up in bed in her pink nightdress, with several pillows propping her up, and a bottle of Lucozade and the usual bunches of grapes and boxes of chocolates that people give to a sick person, on her bedside cabinet.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen about the wedding now,’ she said to Heather in a thin, frail voice. ‘I’m just hoping and praying that Jim will want to carry on with all the plans we’ve made.’

  ‘Of course he will,’ Heather reassured her pale-faced friend. ‘He was all caught up in the plans as much as you were. I’m sure everything will be fine once he sees you up and about and on your feet again.’

  Tears suddenly rushed into Liz’s eyes and Heather reached over to the box of tissues to get her some paper hankies.

  ‘I didn’t think I’d be this bothered about losing the baby,’ Liz sobbed. ‘I hadn’t really had time to think about it . . . I just kept putting it out of my mind. I didn’t want to believe I was expectin’ a baby before we got married. I thought that if I got the wedding all sorted first, that I’d have plenty of time when we were married and on our own to sit down and get myself all organised.’ She shrugged. ‘The poor wee thing . . . I lost it before we even had the chance to get used to having it. Before I’d even got happy about having it.’

  ‘And does Jim feel the same?’

  Liz nodded, dabbing the hanky to her streaming eyes. That was the one thing I was sure about – he loves kids and always wanted his own.’ She stopped for a few moments, trying to catch her breath and blink back the tears. ‘He’s not been down to see me since I got home . . . he must have got held up at work or something. He sometimes goes in on Saturdays.’

  ‘He’ll be down soon,’ Heather said in a soothing tone, thinking that he really should have been in to the hospital this morning to bring Liz home.

  ‘And he’s been spending a lot of time up at the Stewarts’ house,’ Liz said, ‘helpin’ them sort out Gerry’s things.’

  Heather’s stomach tightened at the mention of his name.

  Her face softened. ‘D’you know he even phoned Gerry’s uncle out in Australia from work for them? They never thought about telling the uncle until the day after the funeral. Mrs Stewart was in such a state and with not sleeping too well, she wasn’t thinkin’. Anyway, as soon as Jim knew she wanted to let her brother know, he said he’d give him a ring from the office.’ She shook her head. ‘The uncle was really upset. He was very fond of Gerry from when he was a wee boy, and he said he’d been hoping that Gerry would be out to stay with him later this year.’

  ‘It’s a pity he didn’t go at Christmas,’ Heather whispered. ‘And maybe the tragedy might never have happened.’

  They chatted for a little while, but all the conversation seemed very dark and heavy, about the terrible snow some places had got and the local murders. Heather told her friend all about Kirsty getting stranded up in the Clydeside area and having to stay the night in the hotel.

  ‘Trust your Kirsty to land on her feet,’ Liz said, managing a faint smile. ‘The rest of us would get stuck havin’ to walk miles in the snow or havin’ to knock on somebody’s door for help. Tr
ust your Kirsty to get stranded in a big fancy hotel for the night where they give her a room and bed and breakfast. That would be a dream come true for me. It’s the only way I would get to see the inside of a place like that.’

  The baby of course dominated most of the talk, as Liz told Heather that she was the only one she could really be open and honest with. ‘I’d only told my mother and you about it,’ she said, ‘and I don’t know what my mammy even said to my daddy. I know everybody else was guessing, but I never actually came out with it and told them that it was true.’ She rubbed her nose with a tissue. ‘And I’ve no intentions of getting into big discussions with anybody about it. I’m just going to say I collapsed and I don’t know what caused it.’ She looked up at her friend. ‘That’s what happened to you at work last week, and nobody accused you of being expecting, did they?’

  ‘No,’ Heather said, wrinkling her brow in confusion. ‘And I didn’t think for a minute that anybody would jump to that conclusion, because I was never pregnant.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Liz said, brightening up a little. ‘Maybe I could just say the same kind of thing, and eventually they’ll all stop talking about it.’

  ‘I think people are too busy talking about these murders now,’ Heather said, changing the subject. And although the subject of murder was not any cheerier, at least it had nothing to do with anybody they knew.

  Just then the front doorbell rang and Mrs Mullen’s quick footsteps could be heard rushing to answer it.

  ‘That might be Jim,’ Heather said, looking expectantly towards the door.

  A few moments later Kirsty was shown into the bedroom and Heather saw the look of disappointment on her friend’s face.

  Apart from the fact that she was disappointed that it wasn’t Jim, Liz had just remembered that Kirsty had been there the other day when it all happened, and it was she who had phoned the ambulance and then run for Jim. Kirsty was bound to know what had really happened. And if she hadn’t guessed, then no doubt Heather had told her.