Rose forced herself to be silent, not to ask any more.
‘Brian all ready for the big trip?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, but he has to get his exams over with first. He’s really excited, though, really looking forward to it. He and John can hardly contain themselves.’
‘I suppose he’ll be all right for money?’ His tone was too casual, too dismissive.
Rose looked at him in surprise. ‘Yes. He’ll be fine. Your dad gave him some, I’ve given him some and he’s saved a pile from his part-time job. You know Brian.’
Damien grinned. ‘Yeah – tight bastard. Still has his First Communion money. Not like his big brother, eh?’
Rose smiled. ‘Comparisons are odious. Besides – things change.’
‘Just as well. I’ll give him a few quid, too. Can’t afford too much, but every little helps.’
‘I’m sure he won’t say no. Come for dinner before he goes.’ Rose stood up, gave him a hug and clapped him heartily on the back.
‘Will do. I’ll be talkin’ to you before that, anyway.’ He opened the door into the hallway. ‘Take care of yourself, right?’
‘I will,’ she smiled. And so will someone else. ‘Enjoy the gym, and good luck with the job next week.’
‘Thanks. See ya.’
He stepped outside and Rose watched him walk down the driveway, bathed in the sunshine of a late April afternoon. She watched him go, glad, grateful.
No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t see them. He looked tall, straight, his arms swinging. His shoulders were broad, unencumbered.
No more monkeys clinging to his back.
When Rose arrived at work the following Friday, Katie was standing at the outer door, pungent cheroot in one hand. She looked pale, almost sickly.
‘Don’t tell me these are bad for me, okay? Otherwise, I’m likely to stab you and end my days in prison.’ She tried to smile at Rose, but her eyes gave her away.
‘Actually, I think you look most elegant.’ Rose put her briefcase on the ground and stood beside her. ‘Not too many women can carry off a cheroot with panache, but you’re one of them. Besides, I love the smell. So, no prison cell on my account.’ She gestured towards the car park. ‘Not much of a view is it? Gritty urban chic was never my thing.’ She waited, could feel the other woman getting ready to speak.
‘We really have to do this, don’t we?’ Katie put her head back and expelled a plume of bluish smoke into the air. ‘Because it’s really shitty.’
Rose paused for a moment before she spoke. She could hear the tremble in Katie’s voice. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘We do have to, and it is truly shitty. But you don’t have to be here, Katie. We’ve already discussed it, and the rest of us are fine with that: come back when it’s all over.’
Katie shook her head. She took a last pull of her cheroot, then ground the butt under her heel. ‘No, that wouldn’t be fair. Nobody likes doing . . . this. It’s just . . . Deirdre, my eldest, did a bit of shoplifting a couple of years ago. We were lucky: she didn’t get caught. I keep thinking this could be her, you know?’ Katie looked down, using the toe of her sandal to hide the remains of her cheroot among the gravel.
‘I know that feeling all too well,’ said Rose grimly. ‘We’ve all been there, one way or another. But there’s a hell of a difference between a bit of adolescent bravado and systematic, planned, well-executed stealing that has lasted well over a year, at the very least. Isn’t there?’
Katie nodded, twisting her long hair back into its customary knot at the nape of her neck. ‘I suppose so. But is it a difference of degree or kind, I wonder? That’s what I’m not sure of.’ She waved one hand in the air. ‘Oh, don’t listen to me. Of course we have to do this. I suppose it’s like the guilt of the survivor, you know? We could have killed Deirdre when we found out what she’d been up to. I feel badly for Angela’s parents, whoever they are.’
‘Katie,’ said Rose mildly. ‘Deirdre was sixteen. Angela is nearly thirty. At what age do you suggest they become responsible for themselves?’
Katie’s face brightened. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right. And Angela had to have known what she was doing. Come on, let’s have a cup of tea first.’ She opened the door and ushered Rose in before her. ‘When all else fails, make a pot of tea.’
Sarah was already on her mobile. Claire was leaning on one of the counters, absorbed in making a list. Betty was at one of the sinks, scrubbing at something vigorously with a Brillo pad. Katie went to fill a kettle.
‘Morning, all,’ said Rose casually.
Sarah waved, Betty raised one reddened, soapy hand in greeting. Claire looked up at Rose and smiled.
‘Hi, there. You look great.’ She looked at Rose quizzically. ‘You keeping secrets from us, these days?’
‘Of course not.’ Rose returned her impish gaze, innocently. For one fervent moment, she hoped that Claire hadn’t made her blush. ‘What’s on for today, then?’
Sarah finished her call and threw her eyes up to heaven. ‘I’m going to strangle that bloody woman, I really am. That’s the fourth time she’s changed her mind. I’ve told her I’ll have to charge her for the stuff we’ve already prepared: I’m not having this. I’m just not having it.’
The door opened and Angela came in. The kitchens went suddenly silent.
‘What’s her excuse this time?’ asked Claire quickly, filling the gap.
‘Oh, something about too few choices for non-fish eaters. It was vegetarians before that, then picky children, then people’s wheat intolerances. We’d already worked all this out, weeks back. This is turning into a nightmare.’ Sarah turned abruptly towards Angela. ‘Morning, Angela,’ she said.
‘Morning, everyone,’ said Angela.
Rose nodded her greeting, wondering at Angela’s air of calm confidence. Claire waved and Betty hardly looked up from her sink. Rose thought what a wonderful relief it was to have Sarah’s genuine irritation fill the air around them. She hoped that all Angela would see was another normal morning.
‘Right, then,’ said Sarah. ‘Let’s not get bogged down. Claire, even if that list’s not finished yet, let’s get going on the urgent stuff. Give each of us a job to get started on, and we can review things, say, in an hour and a half or so. Okay? Go for it. Katie, just fill the mugs and let everyone take one to wherever they’re working.’
The kitchens became busy immediately. Angela was dispatched to do an inventory of the cold room while Betty continued scouring the oven trays. Sarah gestured to Rose to follow her into the office. She closed the door behind them.
‘The Guards have confirmed for half ten this morning. I’ve already told Claire and Katie. We’ve just got to keep it all together until then.’ She smiled at Rose. ‘It’s funny – I think Katie was the angriest of all of us when we found out about Angela. I was surprised: she’s normally such a softie. Now, she’s literally sick to her stomach.’
Rose nodded, feeling her own insides shift uncomfortably at the thought of what lay ahead. ‘I know. I met her outside earlier, doing serious damage to a cheroot. I think we’ll all be glad when this is over.’
‘You sure you’re okay to supervise those two today, in the circumstances?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Rose. ‘It would be very odd to do otherwise. Angela might smell a rat, even at this late stage. She’s no fool. She knows there’s something going on. The four of us don’t make very good liars.’
‘Okay. Well, good luck. It’s nearly nine – not too much longer to wait. I hope to Christ the Guards arrive on time. My nerves are about to snap.’
In the event, they arrived precisely on time.
At half past ten there was a knock at the outer door, which Sarah went to answer. ‘I’ll get that,’ she said. She walked through the kitchens quickly, without looking back.
Rose stood beside Angela, watching her. Part of her still hoped that this was all a mistake, some dreadful misunderstanding that the arrival of the police would somehow clarify, and the
n they could all get back to normal. Sarah made her way back through the kitchens, her eyes averted. Even though Rose had been expecting them, it took her a moment to register that the two tall figures in her wake were Guards. She wondered, briefly, what Angela must be feeling.
Suddenly, a large blue uniform stood in front of the counter.
‘Angela Walshe?’ its voice said.
Rose watched as the room seemed to fill with Angela’s expression. Her eyes widened, she dropped the stainless steel bowl she’d been holding in her hands. It clanged onto the tiles, spinning a little before it finally settled into silence.
‘Are you Angela Walshe?’ the figure insisted.
Angela said something inaudible, her hands clutched wildly at the air. Rose saw Katie look away. Claire’s dark eyes were troubled and startled in her pale face. Rose had the strange feeling that she was looking at an unfinished still life, or a bad photograph: something contrived and artificial which needed life, vigour, something to animate it.
Then Angela looked wildly from Rose to Sarah and back again.
‘No, no, no,’ she kept saying.
Something had released her words into the tense, shocked air of the kitchens and Rose let go of the breath she’d been unaware she was holding. The scene before her settled at once into a recognizable reality.
‘Please,’ Angela begged, her eyes round and huge in a suddenly white face. ‘I’ll pay it all back, every penny. It wasn’t my idea – it was David’s.’
Her eyes pleaded for salvation as the taller of the two Guards intoned the reasons for her arrest. His female companion stood impassively behind him. Rose felt her mouth go dry, her stomach begin to weaken. Uncomfortable memories of her own kitchen surfaced: Sergeant Finlay’s face swam before her eyes, Katie’s words roared between her ears.
This could be Damien.
She caught Sarah’s eye and then they both watched in horror as, without a sound, Angela’s knees gave way from under her.
‘Jesus, Angela!’ Rose’s arms shot out to catch her and she sank to the floor, too, holding onto the suddenly leaden body. It seemed to Rose that everything was happening in slow motion, that hours, rather than minutes had passed since Sarah had opened the outer door.
‘Please, please,’ Angela kept moaning, her voice suddenly hoarse, her hands searching the air uselessly. ‘I’ll pay it back. I promise, I’ll pay back every penny. Don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me. It was David, not me. It was all David.’
Claire knelt down and pressed a glass of water to Angela’s lips. ‘Here, sip this.’
Angela obeyed, her eyes looking pleadingly into Claire’s. Gradually, the colour came back to her cheeks. And then, somehow, the policewoman took over: Angela was back on her feet, someone handed her her handbag, someone else got her jacket and then she was gone.
The kitchen door swung quietly shut behind the three figures. Rose found a chair and lowered herself into it, her heart thumping. Katie dragged her hands through her hair and reached for the kettle. Sarah and Claire disappeared together into the office. The whole kitchen seemed to sag.
And then, as though out of nowhere, a stark, piercing wailing began. Rose looked up in alarm. What on earth was that? There, standing at the sink, looking hopelessly lost and vulnerable, was Betty, the Brillo pad still in her hands.
Rose went to her, put her arms around her, and allowed the girl to sob herself into silence. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ she said, over and over, rocking the lumpy body as though Betty were a child. ‘You did the right thing. None of this is your fault.’
God, thought Rose. What a day. What a dreadful, dreadful day. I want to be out of here.
I want to be with Sam.
He was waiting for her as she got out of the lift. ‘You okay?’ She nodded. ‘A bit shattered. But I’m glad it’s over.’ He put one arm around her shoulders and drew her inside the apartment. ‘Go and sit on the balcony. There’s a bit of sunshine still in one corner.’
Rose put her bag and jacket on the bed and stepped out onto the decking. She smiled. The small, circular table had a vase on it, holding a single red rose. She sat in the sunshine, looking down on the garden below. The cream-coloured buildings all around her gleamed; the silence was fragrant, restful.
Sam stepped out of the bedroom, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. Rose nodded towards the vase. ‘You’re an old romantic: did anyone ever tell you that?’
He looked at her sternly. ‘Romantic, certainly; less of the “old”, please.’
She smiled at him, accepting the glass of chilled white wine he handed her. ‘Mmm. Thanks. I’ve been looking forward to this all day. You have no idea how much.’ She sipped, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. When she opened them again he was watching her carefully. She gestured towards the garden below, full of early summer blooms. ‘You know, when I was young, a “flat” in Dublin meant something very different from all this.’
He grinned. ‘I know, I remember. But don’t forget, these are apartments: the new, shiny Dublin doesn’t have flats any more – or would like to think it doesn’t.’
She shaded her eyes for a moment, looking around her.
‘Well, are you going to tell me?’
She sighed. ‘Of course. It was most unpleasant.’ Rose told him, briefly, the events of her day. When she’d finished, she looked over at Sam, unable to hide her anguish. ‘I know it had to be done. I know that Angela was dishonest and sly and that she took advantage of us. But all I could think of when they arrested her was something Katie said: she’s someone’s daughter, you know? Behind this, there are devastated parents somewhere. And I know what that feels like. It could have been me, one of my children.’ She sipped at her wine. ‘The panic on her face when she saw the Guards arrive was awful, just awful.’
‘It’s over,’ said Sam quietly. ‘And you had no choice. Even if you hadn’t prosecuted, Maguire’s would have.’
Rose nodded. ‘I know. And the strange thing was, even Betty was distraught. She started sobbing when they took Angela away. I think if she could have taken everything back that she’d ever said about her, she would have. I didn’t want her to be there in the first place. I’d have given her the morning off, but the Guards insisted we kept everything as normal.’
‘Did you talk to Betty afterwards?’
‘Yes. Sarah and I brought her into the office. We told her the case against Angela would have gone ahead anyway, even without her. Sarah calmed her down, reassured her. I’m afraid by that stage I was no use. I was in bits. Then we gave her the rest of the day off. Clean slate for all of us when we go back next Monday.’ Rose raised her glass. ‘Cheers. Or something.’
Sam stood up. ‘You stay here. I’ll just go and finish off the food, before something gets cremated. No dessert, though. My waistline has had it with strawberry shortcake.’ He bent down and kissed her. ‘Back in a minute. I hate seeing you upset like this.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ She reached up and smoothed his mop of hair. ‘Just give me an hour or so to get this out of my system. It’s been a long day.’ She grinned at him. ‘Then we can discuss my real troubles.’
Sam laughed. ‘I’d better put more wine in the fridge in that case. By the way, what’s the story? Can you stay the night, Cinderella?’
She smiled. ‘Lisa happens to be going to a birthday sleepover tonight . . . and, therefore, so is her mother.’
‘I always knew there was a God.’
Rose put her glass on the table and clasped her hands around Sam’s neck, drawing him closer. ‘I don’t have to be home until lunchtime tomorrow, at the earliest.’
He sighed. ‘You’re killin’ me. Are you sure about this? I mean, what if Lisa changes her mind at the last minute? I know my sister’s kids do all the time. Drives her nuts.’
Rose laughed, let him go. ‘I doubt it; it’s in my friend Jane’s house, with Alison and Carly and all the usual suspects. Lisa’s known them all forever. Besides, even if she did decide not
to go, Brian will be there. He’s home on Friday and Saturday nights from now until the exams are over.’ She looked at him smugly. ‘I’m a free woman, with all bases covered.’
‘I’m just going to turn off my mobile.’ He gestured to the bottle of wine in the cooler. ‘Help yourself. I won’t be long. We’ll eat in here, though – gets chilly when the sun goes down.’ He went back inside.
Rose topped up her glass. The last rays of the early May sun were strong. She closed her eyes against the glare and leaned her head back against the screen behind her. What a crowded few weeks, she thought. Ben had been back just over a month, a month that had been stretched and made fuller, denser with every passing day. Lisa had seen him again, and remained noncommittal. Rose had decided not to press her. Brian was happy, Damien still tight-lipped.
And so it went, she thought, and so it would probably go, long into the indefinite future. Well, she thought: so be it. She’d done her bit.
Time for Rose, remember?
Sam set the table and put dishes and bowls on the counter behind him in the small, orderly kitchen.
‘We’ve half an hour at least before that’s done.’ He walked over to the sofa and sat down beside Rose. ‘I think we should talk, get some stuff out of the way,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t want your husband – ex-husband, even – hanging around between us any longer than I can help it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve done out some new figures for you.’ He pulled out several blue folders from a drawer in the coffee table. He turned and grinned at her. ‘We didn’t pay too much attention to the ones I brought to Neary’s last Saturday, if you remember. We’d better do it now. Aren’t you meeting Pauline again sometime next week?’
‘Yes. Apparently Ben is getting impatient.’ She gestured towards Sam’s hands. ‘Ah, the blue folder – I remember it well.’
Something Like Love Page 24