by Jackie Walsh
‘Well, how did it go?’ he says.
‘Great, everyone thought he was beautiful.’
‘And did you get the…’ Conor looks at the gown in my hand. ‘Is that it?’ He moves closer, scanning the tiny garment. ‘Is that not for a girl?’
‘No, it’s a christening gown. They’re not gender-specific, Conor.’
His lack of excitement disappoints me. I didn’t expect him to jump around with joy, but I thought he’d at least pretend to care.
‘Well, sure, what would I know? As long as you’re happy with it. I’m going to jump in the shower.’ He walks towards the door. ‘Mammy’s going to put you in a dress, Shay.’
I sense the humour in his voice. It puts me at ease.
* * *
The phone beeps just as Conor arrives back in the room. Shay is now sitting on my lap sucking on his bottle. I can’t very well disturb him and rush to my phone.
Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Conor hovers over the open fridge door.
‘Sorry there’s no dinner ready, I’m not long home and I’ve already eaten. Do you want me to make you something or see if there’s a pizza in the freezer?’ I say.
My eyes are fixed on my phone out of reach. I’m expecting the worst: that Rose will confirm it was Vicky Murphy who was asking about me. If she does, I’m going to confront Maggie. I have to know if it was her and if so, why.
Conor unwraps a frozen pizza and places it in the oven as per the instructions he reads out loud to himself. He struggles with the settings, so I tell him to hold Shay, I’ll do it. He kisses my forehead while lifting Shay out of my arms and I head straight for the phone, unlocking it with my thumbprint and putting the oven on at the same time.
It’s Rose.
Yes, that’s her.
My heart sinks. A shiver of fear runs through my body. Vicky Murphy was investigating me.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Like it isn’t bad enough my husband is eating a frozen pizza for dinner after a hard day at the office, his mother arrives to witness it. With a bag in each hand, she strolls past me into the kitchen, babbling on about someone who wouldn’t be able to attend the christening. I can fully understand that at such short notice but, seemingly, Maggie has plans to remember this someone in the future.
By the time I close the front door and arrive in the kitchen behind Maggie, she has already formed an expression of disappointment.
‘Is that what you’re having for dinner?’ She chuckles to imply that this is a light-hearted comment. But I know better.
‘I was in Dublin today,’ I say, walking straight over to the bouncer where I talk to Shay.
‘Mammy’s going to teach you to be a great cook, not like poor Daddy.’ The words leave my mouth before I have a chance to stop them and there’s a brief silence as Maggie adjusts to the new atmosphere. Conor tries to defuse it, saying the pizza wasn’t that bad.
‘Dublin,’ she says. ‘What had you there?’
‘I brought Shay up to meet my old colleagues at Imanage. They thought he was beautiful.’ Lifting Shay in my arms I say, ‘Say hello to Nana.’
Maggie walks over to say hello to her grandson and immediately the battle is put on hold.
‘Well of course they did,’ she says, cooing into Shay’s face.
With the last slice of pizza in his hand, Conor tells Maggie about the christening gown I purchased. I didn’t want him to. I was hoping to break that news to her later but Conor makes it sound like a good thing. Maybe Maggie won’t have a problem with it.
Wrong.
‘But I thought you were going to use your own christening gown, Conor. The one that your father picked out for you. I have it here with me.’
I turn away from them, taking longer than necessary to tuck Shay into the crib. I’m leaving this one to Conor.
Maggie searches through one of the bags she carried in, and removes a parcel wrapped in tissue. ‘I even had it cleaned. Look.’
I take a peek to the left and watch her holding up the gown to Conor. I can’t see it – she has her back to me – but I can see Conor. He looks trapped. What will he do?
He sighs, putting the last slice of pizza back on the plate. ‘I don’t know. Does it really matter?’ he says. His hand brushes through his hair, his face reddens. Conor is under enough stress at the moment. I should not be adding to it.
‘Of course it matters,’ Maggie says, with no sympathy for her indecisive son. As she turns to hold out the gown for me to see, I glance at Conor and my heart tugs at his helpless expression. This is for you, Conor.
‘It’s beautiful, Maggie.’ I say. ‘We would love to put Shay in Conor’s gown, especially as his grandad chose it.’
I know the chances of any man picking out a christening gown thirty years ago is slim to none. But the gown is actually beautiful. And Conor looks relieved.
I wink at him and he winks back, filling my heart with a reminder that we are one, together on this journey. We have each other’s back. I know if I’d put up a fight with Maggie, Conor would have sided with me. I have no doubt about that. But not all games are won by lifting trophies. By appearing weaker, I made us stronger. And Maggie doesn’t even realise she lost that one.
* * *
After Maggie has updated us about all the wonderful things she has in motion for the big day, Conor makes his excuses and heads to his office down the hall. This is my chance.
‘Will you have a quick cuppa before you go?’ I say.
Maggie looks at her watch and hums as if she’s doing me a favour. She’s one of those people who like to give the impression their life is full, that they never have a spare minute. Always something going on.
‘Okay,’ she says.
When the tea is poured, I sit opposite Maggie and watch her excited face. Is it possible this woman is capable of hiring someone to check me out? If so, maybe it has nothing to do with wanting to know about my mother. Conor has money, a lot of it. Maybe she wanted to make sure the business was safe, that I wasn’t some gold-digger in it for a short while, screwing her husband for all he’s worth in the divorce court. It’s possible, and I can’t exactly say I blame her – after all, she didn’t know me. But I want to hear her admit it and I want to know what she found out.
‘Maggie,’ I say, two hands cradling my cup. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
‘Sure, ask away.’ Maggie perks up, her old eyes widening in anticipation.
‘You know I was in Dublin today.’
Maggie nods.
‘Well, I heard something, something that disturbed me.’
‘What?’ Maggie slowly sips her tea, her eyes focused on me.
‘Vicky Murphy.’
I let the name hang in the air to see if I can detect a reaction. Nothing. Maggie is still eager to listen.
‘Apparently, she called in to my old company, Imanage. She was asking about me, a few weeks before the wedding.’
Maggie pulls her head back a bit. ‘Vicky Murphy, the dead girl?’ she says, looking confused.
‘Yes.’
‘Why was she asking about you?’
Either Maggie is a great actress or she knows nothing.
‘Well that’s the thing… I was wondering if you had any idea?’
Maggie huffs, raising her head in the air like a peacock. ‘If I have any idea?’
‘Yes.’ I’m staring at her.
‘And why, my dear, would you think I’d know anything about that?’
‘Because I saw you one day in the graveyard, handing her an envelope and I thought you must know her well, maybe she told you something.’
Her lips are pursed now, her head nodding.
Now she’s sighing, shaking her head from side to side. My heart is in my mouth, I’m trying my best to act nonchalantly, while every nerve in my body is poking me.
‘I was a bit surprised when you said you had never spoken to her.’ I can’t believe I’m finding the courage to confront Maggie like this.
‘When… when did I tell you
that?’
‘The night you and Helen came in here after Vicky’s funeral.’
‘Oh, don’t mind what I say in front of Helen,’ she says, straightening herself on the stool.
‘But I thought you and Helen have been friends since you were children?’
‘We are and that’s how we’re still friends; I tell her nothing.’ Maggie puts her hand out and surprises me by placing it on top of mine. I think she’s trying to end the conversation but I can’t stop now.
‘So why were you meeting Vicky in the graveyard?’ I blurt out.
She lifts the cup to her lips as I squirm on the seat opposite her. Her eyes stare above the rim as she sips a little, then she stops to say, ‘Well now, that’s not really any of your business.’ The air stills between us. I’ve pushed too far. Maggie is not prepared to divulge the reason for her liaison with Vicky Murphy. Not even to her childhood friend, Helen. But why the secret? What is she hiding?
Chapter Forty
Well, that’s not quite how I expected that to go. I spend most of the night lying flat on my back looking up at the darkness, unable to complete a full hour’s sleep, worrying that I have opened a can of worms.
Conor is burning toast when I enter the kitchen with Shay in my arms. It was a lot easier to carry him when he was inside me.
‘Coffee?’ he says.
‘Yes please, I didn’t sleep a wink.’
‘Go back to bed when Shay goes down,’ he says, pouring water from the kettle.
‘I’ll try.’
Tucking Shay into the crib, I yawn.
‘Will you be okay?’ Conor asks.
‘Yeah, sure, I’ll be fine.’ Pulling my dressing gown tighter, I shuffle across in oversized slippers to the breakfast counter. Outside the window, a great blue sky paints a picture of peace and tranquillity. At the end of the garden, the forest looms. Pat is probably still in bed. But since the argument between him and Conor, I haven’t seen him at all. I hope he’s not dead back there.
‘Have you seen Pat since you had the argument with him?’ I say.
Conor crunches on his toast, muttering through a full mouth. ‘It wasn’t an argument.’
‘Well whatever you want to call it… have you seen him since?’
‘No, I haven’t. But don’t let that worry you.’ Conor butters a second slice of toast. ‘Pat is not a creature of habit.’
‘I know but still… I hope he’s okay.’
‘He’ll be okay.’
‘Did the police contact you yet?’
‘No, they’re probably busy trying to catch the real suspect, Laura.’
‘I know…’
Squashing the subject, Conor puts his jacket on. ‘I hope to be home early this evening. Mam has a list of things she wants me to look at before the christening.’
I hold back a sigh at the thought of another night of Maggie and christening preparations. The sooner Sunday comes and goes, and we can have some alone time again, the better. I love when it’s just the two of us – the three of us now. It also means I’d better make a decent dinner tonight. No more frozen pizzas or she’ll take her son back.
Conor is walking over to the crib when the doorbell rings. I’m lifting a slice of toast to my mouth. I stop. For some reason a sick feeling stirs in my stomach. Who could that be? Is it Fintan again? More bad news? Conor turns to look at me. I can tell he’s thinking the same. He walks out of the room without commenting. I follow him and wait at the kitchen door where I can see him. The shapes behind the glass send a shiver through my body. I’m on pause, unable to breathe until he answers that door. Conor turns to look at me.
‘Don’t panic Laura, it will be okay.’
Why is he saying that? Why does he think I’m going to panic? Conor must know why they’re here.
The two men step into the hallway and introduce themselves as Detective Owen Murray and Detective Michael Penny. They’re both taller than Conor by a few inches. The older one is wearing a suit but the younger guy is dressed in jeans and a casual jacket. I remember seeing them enter the café the other day. At the time it made me uncomfortable knowing why they were here in Ballycall. But now, I’m absolutely terrified.
‘Conor Caldwell?’ Michael Penny says.
Conor nods, but it doesn’t satisfy them.
‘Are you Conor Caldwell?’ he says.
They know damn well he is, but they’re letting Conor know he might be king of the village but he’s no one to them.
‘Yes, that’s me,’ he says before turning to me. ‘Laura, go back inside.’
I’m stuck to the spot, unable to move, but I shake myself and nod at him. The three men look at me and wait until I’ve gone back into the kitchen. Without fully closing the door, I stand inside and put my ear to the gap only to hear Conor ask them to move into his office.
Tears are gathering, stinging my eyes, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. With nothing to be heard at the doorway, I move over to Shay’s crib and lean in to kiss him. The warmth of his breath against my face does little to ease the fear firmly gripping me. This is it. The cops are going to arrest my husband. They must have something on him and Conor was pretty eager to make sure I didn’t hear what it was. With Shay in my arms now, I walk nervously around the room holding him tighter than is necessary, waiting. At the window I look out at the dull grey world and think of Pat. It’s his fault. He’s the one who brought this to my door, telling the cops Conor left our house the night Vicky was killed. Why would he do that? He knows Conor. He knows he wouldn’t do a thing like that. I open my mouth to release the words I hate you Pat, look what you’ve done to us. But the words don’t leave. I stop, a fresh wave of dread washing over me. He does know Conor. He knows Conor a lot better than I do.
About twenty minutes later, the sound of the office door opening startles me. Are they going to take Conor away? Is he handcuffed? I put Shay back into the crib. He starts to cry but I leave him and rush to see Conor closing the front door. The detectives are gone. Conor is still here. Thank God they haven’t taken him to the station. Relief washes over me as I go to Conor in the hallway. His face is flushed, worry etched across his brow. I break the icy silence.
‘What did they want, Conor?’
He shakes his head and walks past me into the kitchen. Then stops, turns to look at me and says. ‘You’re not going to believe this Laura.’ He runs his hands through his hair and looks at the ground then back to me. ‘I’m the last person Vicky Murphy made contact with before she was killed.’
‘What?’ I can barely hear my own whisper. ‘But…’
‘Yes, she texted me, asking to see me as soon as possible, saying it was important.’
‘And did you answer her?’
‘I didn’t notice it Laura.’
‘But did you see it afterwards, the next day, did you not notice her name on your phone?’
‘It didn’t come up under her name, it was just her number and no, I didn’t notice it. My phone was jammed with messages of congratulations.’ He moves over to the island brushing his hand over the top. ‘They went through my phone and found the message. They could see it hadn’t been opened until they opened it but they’ve taken my phone with them.’
‘What does this mean, Conor? Are you a suspect now?’ I say.
Conor shakes his head from side to side, unable to answer me.
Chapter Forty-One
Conor hasn’t mentioned anything to his Mam. I know because she’s still prancing around like Franck from Father of the Bride, and Conor is avoiding her as much as he can. I’m now stewing in worry for my husband. He went into work after the cops visit yesterday, but I don’t know how he managed it. I could barely dress myself. And now, I have to put all that aside because in twenty-four hours’ time, my house will be filled with over a hundred enthusiastic christening guests.
Noel and Abbie dropped in earlier with a gift for Shay – a silver bracelet with his name and date of birth on it. It’s beautiful. Abbie said they wanted to give
it to us now so Shay could wear it to the church in the morning. When they left, Conor laughed, saying he didn’t think his little boy’s first big day out would be in a dress, wearing a bracelet. I found it strange that Conor was able to carry on like nothing had happened, making jokes. But I decided to join him. If this is the way he wanted to play it, I’d act my part as the happy wife. I reminded him not to be so macho and that it was possible Shay might like to wear dresses and bracelets when he’s older, so he’d better ease off on the man pressure. Conor reacted by lifting Shay in the air saying, ‘Whatever’s to be is to be. I’ll always love you.’
* * *
The house is empty now. Conor has gone with his mother to pick up the cake. Shay is snoozing in his crib.
With the coast clear, I lift the card that accompanied the bracelet Noel and Abbie gave us. To my Godson on his christening day. I look at the handwritten message inside. I don’t know what I’m expecting. Do I think it might resemble the writing in the other card that I don’t even have anymore? I can still see it when I close my eyes. Your husband is a murderer.
There’s nothing to alarm me about this card. It’s got a lovely verse printed on it and the writing is small and neat and not at all threatening. But they’re still on my list. It’s possible one of them sent the cruel card. I’m still wary of Noel, I think he’s hiding something, what with Olive not talking to him and him running away to Oman all of a sudden. And Abbie, well she could have sent the card to divert attention from Noel. Or even just to piss me off for ruining the friendship between the four of them. I wish I knew where that card was now.
Outside, there’s still no sign of Pat. I wonder if he will come to the party tomorrow after all the trouble he’s caused. I gaze out onto the vast nothingness. The empty field. The still forest. There are no clouds of smoke creeping out through the treetops. If Pat is in his house, he hasn’t lit the fire. I glance over and see Shay is still asleep. Will I risk it? Will I go down and face him? Ask him if he sent the card? I will, and I’ll tell him about the alarm in the factory going off that night and to stop implying my husband has something to do with Vicky’s murder.