Five Little Words

by Jackie Walsh

  * * *

  The grass gets thicker the further I progress, mangled by weeds and rocks and a lack of care. When Shay is older, I plan to fill this space with loads of outdoor toys – slides, swings, monkey bars, goal posts, a racing track, whatever he wants. The still air will be filled with laughter, joy and energy. Shay will invite his friends here to play and make noise. To fight and make up and bring life to the place.

  When I reach the trees, I glance back at the house. If I’m to be honest, from here it looks a bit intrusive. A big white stone building in the middle of a green field. It looks like it fell from the sky. Alien to its surroundings. I continue into the forest on the worn path that leads to Pat’s cottage. It’s darker in here; the tall trees block the sun from entering. But it’s not pitch black. I can see the small cottage in the distance. There are no lights on. It looks empty. But Pat might just be asleep. I don’t want to startle him if he is.

  The closer I get, the more nervous I become. The cottage has one small window on either side of the front door. To the side of the house is an open shed where Pat chops his logs. An axe leans against a huge log in the middle, surrounded by stacks of smaller logs. I look in but he’s not in there. Moving to the door of the house, I hold my breath and knock. Knocking again I push on the door, but it’s locked.

  Mindful that Shay could wake up any minute I peek in the window to my right. There are no curtains, no need, it’s very private here. In the middle of the room a square wooden table stands with one chair. Not two. That makes me sad. There’s a plate on the table with a crust of bread on it and a mug beside it. Pat’s nowhere in the picture. I scurry past the door over to the second window and see an empty bed. Where could he be? The bed is small with a sheet and a couple of blankets on top. Above the bed hangs a cross. The wardrobe, if you could call it that, is a small bockety press with clothes spilling out of it. I think of all I have, just a short stroll away, and I feel guilty. This isn’t right. Pat should have a few nice things. When all this is over and if it turns out Pat has nothing to do with it, I’m going to fix his house up for him. Get him some comforts.

  The only other place he could be, if he is in the house, is the bathroom, which I can’t see from here. I’m not going around the back of the house because the terrain looks pretty rough, with unkempt shrubs, overgrown and tangled. I knock once more on the door, but again, no answer. Time to get back to my little boy.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Georgina is holding court with a grey-haired lady when I walk into the salon. She puts her finger up to quieten the lady and says, ‘Speak of the devil, hello Laura.’ Returning her attention to the lady, she says, ‘This is her now, I’ll introduce you.’

  Walking over to where they’re standing, I put my hand out.

  ‘Eilish Ryan,’ Georgina says, indicating the lady before pointing to me, ‘Laura Caldwell.’

  Eilish nods and is about to speak when she’s interrupted by Georgina.

  ‘Can you believe it, Eilish is actually going to the christening tomorrow and she’s never even been introduced to you.’

  ‘Yes, I—’ begins Eilish.

  ‘She’s seen you around, but has never spoken to you.’

  If Georgina doesn’t give her a chance she’s not going to be able to speak to me now either. So, I take my attention off Georgina and shake Eilish’s hand. ‘Don’t worry about that, Eilish, you won’t be the only one I don’t know at the party tomorrow, but you’re very welcome and I hope you enjoy yourself.’

  Eilish smiles. ‘Oh thank you, Laura. I’m looking forward to it.’

  The salon is full; every basin, every station full of women getting their hair done for the big christening. I understand now why Georgina is so nice to me; she’s making a fortune.

  When I finally get to the basin, Georgina herself decides to wash my hair, guiding my head gently into the sink.

  ‘That was Fintan Ryan’s wife. The local sergeant,’ she says. ‘Eilish Ryan… lovely woman… two sons, both up in Dublin, neither joined the guards… which disappointed Fintan.’

  My head is hovering over the sink now, the water gushing through my hair, providing the backing track to the local gossip.

  ‘The eldest fella is a bit strange but the younger fella is a lovely chap.’

  I’d hoped to come here for a break. To clear my mind of all this unsavoury business with cards and Vicky Murphy. Conor had said he hadn’t a clue why she had sent that text. She had never contacted him before outside of the pub. She wasn’t even a name in his phone contacts. Vicky must have known she was in danger and hoped Conor could help her. But that’s not how the detectives will see it. Vicky is dead. Conor is the last person she contacted. My stomach continues to twist.

  When Georgina finishes filling me in on the history of the Ryan brothers, she wraps a towel around my head and brings me over to a basin.

  ‘She wasn’t well you know… Eilish,’ she says in a low voice, leaning in to my ear to whisper: ‘her nerves were very bad.’

  A drop of water rolls down my face as I nod at the mirror, pretending I’m interested.

  ‘In and out of the hospital for years.’ Georgina pulls away from whispering and says, ‘If it wasn’t for Caldwell Brewery. Well. God only knows.’

  Now I am interested.

  ‘They were so good,’ she says, bending back into the whisper again: ‘By all accounts they paid for everything.’

  I watch myself thinking in the mirror. So, Detective Fintan Ryan owes Conor big time. Is that why he told Conor about what Pat had said to the detectives from Dublin? Has Conor got Fintan Ryan in his pocket? And if so, what else is Fintan willing to do to cover for Conor?

  The longer I’m in the salon, the more women arrive, all thanking me for their invitations. I nod and smile because I don’t know who they are, and I wasn’t the one who invited them. I hope I don’t come across as rude but I’m uncomfortable with all the attention, it makes me nervous. It reminds me of that dreadful day when all those strangers were firing questions at me. Questions I couldn’t answer.

  Eventually the salon quietens, and I’m wondering whether there will be any young people at the christening. I do hope Conor made a contribution to the guest list. I mentioned it to my colleagues at Imanage but I don’t expect any of them to take up the offer. It’s a bit far to come for a party. Bridge or no bridge.

  Back at the house, cars and vans hog the driveway. O’Rourke Flowers, Barry’s Party balloons, Ballycall Party Supplies, the list goes on. Maggie has managed to spread our custom across most of the small businesses associated with the village.

  I push my way past two young lads that I recognise from the club. They’re carrying kegs. Caldwell Beer, of course. I hope that’s not the only choice of alcohol. If I’m gonna make it through the day, I’ll need something stronger.

  Inside the house, Maggie is directing everyone where to put things. Her hands are flailing through the air as she tells some young girl how to hang lights across the back wall. Why she wants lights, I don’t know, the party should be well over by the time it gets dark. But I leave her to it and go up to the bedroom where Conor is taking care of Shay.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he says when I open the door. He is sitting on the bed with Shay lying across his knees.

  ‘He likes this,’ Conor says, lifting his knees in the air a few inches and smiling. Shay is not reacting at all. He’s too young. I don’t want to disappoint Conor, so I just say, ‘Ahhhh.’

  ‘How’s the show unfolding downstairs?’ he says.

  ‘I think it’s a bit much for a christening party myself but sure we gave her the reins. We can’t interfere now.’

  Holding Shay against his chest Conor stands. ‘I guess we should be grateful she’s organising the party. I wouldn’t have the patience for that sort of stuff, especially now.’

  ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, Conor, I’m very grateful. I could never pull that off. I’m glad she’s running the show.’

  I don’t want Conor to g
et the wrong impression. I’m not ungrateful. It’s just I never wanted all this fuss and certainly not so soon after having the baby. Maybe if it was in three months’ time like we had agreed, before Noel’s great escape scuppered the plan, I’d be happy with all the fuss. But now, and with everything going on, I’d be just as happy with a cake and a bottle of wine. A handful of people and an early night.

  ‘I know it all happened very quickly, Laura,’ Conor says, pulling the handle on the door, ‘but it will be all over by tomorrow night and we’ll be able to get back to normal.’

  Conor closes the door behind him leaving the word ‘normal’ hanging in the air. A shiver runs down my spine.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Amanda is the first through the door, bright and early like she promised. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her oyster pink dress dangling in plastic covering over her arm. Amanda plants a kiss on my face before dropping everything onto a chair and heading over to the crib.

  ‘How’s my favourite godson?’ she asks. I’m about to say something about him being her only godson, but I stop.

  ‘What time is the church?’ She turns her head to look at me.

  ‘Eleven thirty, but we’ve to be there about a quarter past.’

  ‘Grand, I’ll head up and get changed in a little while.’

  When I first moved into the house, Amanda claimed one of the bedrooms as her own. She even has some clothes and cosmetic stuff housed in it. Sometimes, when I get lonely, I go into the room to remind myself that Amanda is not far away if I need her. But I haven’t gone in for a while. Shay has completely filled that hole.

  The little man knew something was going down when he woke at six this morning. He cried for almost an hour. No amount of rocking or bottles would stop him. Eventually I placed him in the buggy and pushed him down the garden. I tried to get a peek through the forest to see if there was any life coming from Pat’s cottage but I couldn’t see the cottage from where I was, and the ground was too rough to continue with the buggy. I haven’t seen Pat since Conor argued with him and it worries me. Even though I hate that he mentioned Conor to the detectives, I hope nothing bad has happened to him.

  I had planned to tell Amanda about the text Vicky sent to Conor when she got here, but I’m too busy to get into that conversation and probably now is not the right time.

  ‘You go and get ready,’ she says. ‘I’ll wait here.’

  Conor is stepping out from the en suite when I enter the room, his long lean body wrapped in a towel, his hair combed back off his forehead. He smiles and it lifts my heart, the way he seems so happy to see me. I hope it lasts.

  ‘I’m going to have a shower. Amanda is with Shay.’

  ‘Great,’ he says, walking over and grabbing me by the waist, pulling me against his body. The gentle smell of his aftershave makes me take a deep breath and when he kisses my lips, part of me melts. Conor pulls his face away. ‘Laura, everything is going to be okay.’

  I want to cry, to scream, to ask him what the hell is going on. Why is this happening to us? But I don’t. I place my hand on his face and smile. ‘I hope so,’ I say. He looks deep into my eyes. ‘I promise it will,’ he says, placing his hand on top of mine. ‘Let’s enjoy today.’

  Conor is wearing a brand-new suit in a light, silvery grey which he ordered especially for Shay’s big day. His shirt is also new, light blue, though he called it by some fancy name for light blue when he showed it to me. He has worn the shoes once before, on the day of our wedding.

  My dress is not so new. I’ve worn it before to a wedding – when Alice from Imanage got married. It was the first time Conor met most of my colleagues. They were all very impressed with the man I’d managed to nab and I might have imagined it, but I felt I was treated differently by them after that. They seemed to have more respect for me, asking my opinion, inviting me for coffee and not just as a tagalong. I also think it’s the night I got pregnant.

  My dress is a nude brocade and – most importantly – it fits me which I’m delighted about. I thought getting rid of the baby weight would be harder. It’s moving quicker than I thought. I suppose having your husband accused of murder will do that to a girl. With my hair done and my makeup on I’ll be fine. Thankfully, I have my Louboutins. If I lose confidence in my look, I’ll just flash the red.

  Conor’s shoes are sitting on the floor by the bed when I step out of the en suite, bringing me back to our wedding day. The day I became Mrs Laura Caldwell. It seems like such a long time ago. The church, the aisle, the panic, was he actually going to go through with it? It was only seven months ago but so much has happened since. Mrs Laura Caldwell has learned a lot. How big an influence her husband is in this not-so-quaint village. How money is no medicine for a tortured mind and that first impressions don’t always last.

  * * *

  When the battle to look beautiful is won, we arrive at the church. Shay is like an angel in my arms as we walk to the entrance where Abbie and Noel are standing waiting. I’m nervous. Fr Cormac notices and his kind words soon relax me. After prayers and procedures, he invites the christening party to the altar. I feel like I’m on stage with all the people staring at us. Amanda looks like a movie star at my side. Noel also looks like a movie star beside Conor, only one from a different kind of movie. One with gangsters in it.

  The priest lifts the jug of water which he’s blessed and now I get nervous again. I hate this bit. It seems so cruel. With great enthusiasm he pours the water over Shay’s tiny little skull. Up to now Shay has been playing ball, not a whimper out of him. But now he’s crying. I want to stop the priest, tell him that’s enough, he’s christened. But Fr Cormac has other ideas and doesn’t want to waste any of his precious holy water, so he keeps going until the jug is empty. Shay is now screaming.

  Eventually, after a little rocking and soothing, my baby stops crying. A few more prayers and then it’s time to go. Conor thanks the priest with a thickly-wedged envelope. When I see him hand it to the priest discreetly, I picture Maggie in the shadow of the same spire, handing an envelope to Vicky.

  Outside the church, the sun is breaking through the clouded sky. I cradle my little boy close to me and whisper in his ear that I’m sorry. The poor sweetheart is still sniffling, probably wondering what’s next, is it safe?

  ‘You’re safe now, baby,’ I say, carrying him to the car.

  Noel and Abbie stand waiting to travel back to the house with us. When we pull out of the church grounds Noel jokes about his newly-crowned responsibilities, how he’ll be keeping his eye on us, making sure Shay grows up a fine Catholic.

  I laugh along but I’m still wary of Noel, his confidence, his arrogance. I wonder whether Olive will ignore him again. If she does, I might just spark a conversation with her about it. I want to find out what it is she doesn’t like about him. If it’s something to do with Vicky Murphy. It could be important. Maybe that’s why Vicky wanted to speak to Conor. If Noel was having an affair with Vicky, maybe it got messy. Noel is Conor’s best friend and Vicky knew that. I need to get Olive to open up about what she knows.

  ‘Okay, let the fun begin,’ Conor says, opening the door of the car when we arrive back at the house. Noel takes Shay’s car seat and I flinch, inspecting his every move, making sure he does it correctly. Abbie notices me watching him. When Noel has the car seat safely in his grip, Abbie links my arm like we’re best mates.

  ‘You look lovely, Laura,’ she says.

  ‘Thanks, you look lovely too.’ She doesn’t; she looks absolutely fabulous. Abbie is wearing a green pleated skirt and a satin mauve top which clings to her perfectly toned shape. Her hair is a bundle of black shiny curls falling down the back of her head, held in place by a stone-encrusted hair grip. I thought I looked good until I saw her.

  Amanda pulls up behind us in her car. She won’t be drinking today; she has to drive back to Dublin tonight. She told me she would be taking the role of godmother very seriously and would be looking after Shay while I attended to the
guests and enjoyed a drink. At first I didn’t like the idea, I wanted my amigo by my side, but realising there was no one else I could trust to take care of Shay – Maggie would be too busy – I agreed.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The party is in full swing, groups of people standing, sitting, enjoying the canapés and sipping the drink. It’s all a bit tame but I imagine when Conor’s friends from the club arrive it will become a more boisterous affair. Conor said they wouldn’t be here until about three o’clock because there was a match on.

  I haven’t had a chance to speak to Conor since arriving back at the house but every now and then he looks over from whoever is hogging his company and smiles. It helps me, re-energises my batteries to keep going. Maggie is bossing some young waitress around as she prepares the buffet, which she says is not to be served until three o’clock. She has the whole thing mapped out and timed. If things go to plan, everyone should be gone by seven. I hope she’s right. I’m enjoying myself as best I can under the strain of thinking somebody here may have sent the card but I can’t wait to sit down with Conor on my own, my Louboutins cast aside, Shay in bed asleep and a glass of red in my hand.

  The crowd seem to be enjoying themselves, all dressed up like they’re at a family wedding. Fintan Ryan and his wife Eilish are sitting talking to two other couples at one of Maggie’s hired tables. It’s unlikely to be Fintan or Eilish who sent the card. Especially now that I know Conor paid for the smile Eilish is currently sending my way. I wave back at her before scanning the room for familiar faces. There aren’t many.

  Olive and Deirdre are outside the back door where an overflow has gathered. The sun is being kind which is just as well. Maggie has invited a lot more people than she let on. But I’m happy to stand here, nodding and smiling, playing the part of the lucky wife in my big castle with close to one hundred people. It’s a far cry from my flat in the city. Ten people in that tiny space and it was jam-packed. And yet, there are times I miss it. Like Friday, when the detectives called. Seeing them in my hallway made me wish I was back in Dublin.