Where There's A Will

by Mary Malone

  “Much better,” she mumbled when she looked in the mirror for a second time. She smeared her lips with gloss and highlighted her cheekbones with blusher.

  Driving through Schull on her way to her parents’ home a short while later, she gave a wave as she passed the cemetery where Aunt Polly was buried, hoping that soon she’d have reason to stop and offer a prayer of gratitude.

  Chapter 3

  Jess stared into the open grave, holding the thorny stems of two black roses in one hand.

  She watched the black petals and green stems sail through the air before landing on the solid oak casket. Watching the falling rain staining the wood grain and pieces of loose earth landing on the brass nameplate, relief washed over her. Once the nearby mound of earth was shovelled back into the hole in the ground, the solid oak casket with ivory satin lining would never be seen again. And neither would the cold body of her mother lying inside.

  Much later, Jess pushed open the door of Number 4, Pier Road, with her stiletto-heeled boot, trying not to wake a sleeping Greg. He was heavy and awkward to carry, his weight cramping her tired arms. When she’d collected him from his friend’s house after the funeral, he’d snuggled into her and closed his eyes, exhausted after a hectic day. Henry and Pru, her only sibling and busybody sister-in-law, had been very put out because she wouldn’t let them accompany her inside.

  But Jess didn’t care. She needed time alone. To think. To grieve. To forgive – an unlikely outcome. To figure out a simple way to explain to her five-year-old boy that from now on it would just be the two of them. It would be very different.

  With Greg curled up comfortably on the ancient armchair, Jess took a moment to stare at him, trailing her finger across his soft cheek, his vulnerability causing her breath to catch in her throat. Taking the old plaid rug that was normally used for picnics and makeshift tents from the back of the chair, she tucked it in around his shoulders to keep him warm. Before leaving him, she planted a gentle peck on his forehead. His skin was warm. Unlike her icy body.

  She’d found it impossible to warm up for days. Not since . . . but she halted her thoughts mid-stream, refusing to let her mind dwell on the past. Her body trembled, her shoulders were hunching forward and her fingers and toes were like blocks of ice. Despite the harsh rain, it wasn’t cold outside and the central heating was turned up full in the house. Still nothing helped ease the chill.

  As she left the sitting room, she switched on a lamp in the corner of the room, pulling the door behind her but ensuring it was ever so slightly ajar. Though it was still light, she didn’t want Greg to be afraid when he woke up. He hated darkness. And he hated shut doors.

  Swaying backward and forward on the rocking chair in the kitchen, a last glimmer of April daylight shining through the sash window, Jess wrapped her hands around a mug of strong coffee and listened to the wind howling outside. She let out a long sigh of relief. Alone. At last. She was determined to look forward. Not back. It had been a long three days. But now she needed to unravel her thoughts so that she could get things straight. She needed to work things through and make decisions for her and Greg’s future, regardless of Henry and Pru. She’d welcomed their advice and suggestions, her troubled mind confused and finding it difficult to process even the simplest of decisions. Perhaps she and Greg should get away as Henry had suggested – even for a short while. Pier Road was filled with an assortment of memories, yet escaping them wasn’t as easy as jetting off to foreign shores, not until they ceased to dominate her mind.

  Fixing the soft velour cushion behind her back, she savoured the opportunity to think, daring to hope that everything would turn out all right in time. But her peace was short-lived and brought to an abrupt end. A loud bang startled her, bringing her back to the present with a sudden jolt.

  “What the – !” she shouted in the empty kitchen, jumping from the chair in fright, the contents of her cup spilling all over her. Spluttering and coughing as her coffee went against her breath, she wiped her stained jumper with her fingers, sucking on the back of her hand to ease the sting from the hot liquid. She held her breath a moment, peering through the window and listening intently. One thing for sure, it had been outside. For that at least she was grateful.

  It must have been a dog knocking over the bins, she decided eventually, her heartbeat returning to normal. She sat into her chair in time to hear another loud bang followed by yet another. This time the noise seemed nearer.

  Oh hell, she thought, what’s going on? Sounds like it’s coming from next door – from inside Number 5. Who the hell is prowling around inside the house?

  She could feel the hairs stand on the back of her neck as she heard yet another bang.

  A few weeks before, Polly Digby had telephoned Jess and asked her to call next door for a chat. Neighbours for years, Jess respected the old lady and was sorry to hear she was moving into a nursing home and wouldn’t be returning home. The house had been empty since. This was the first time there had been any disturbance.

  Jumping to her feet, Jess flicked a nearby switch, flooding the kitchen with bright light. She ran to the hallway, gave a cursory check to make sure Greg was still asleep, and took the stairs two steps at a time, stumbling as she reached the top, her hand reaching for the banister to steady herself. She hurried into Greg’s bedroom at the back of the house, careful to shut the door behind her to prevent her silhouette being seen from outside. Peering into the next door’s back garden, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, trying to see if she could make out any physical presence or activity. But as well as being too dark to see, the overgrown hedging obstructed her view of next door.

  Leaning her forehead against the cold window pane, she found it difficult to ignore the whispers of paranoia in her head or the all-too-familiar taste of fear in her mouth, despite the fact she hadn’t heard any more noises from Number 5. Her breath fogged the glass, the wind continuing to gust outside, the rain easing off. Waste of time standing here in the dark, she thought, opening the door and allowing the landing light to filter into Greg’s room. But she’d only made it halfway down the stairs when she heard yet another thud and this time there was no mistaking it was coming from the vacated house next door. “And I thought life was about to get easier,” she muttered, hurrying to check on Greg once more.

  Relieved to see he hadn’t been disturbed, she dithered over what she should do, her mind springing into action at the sound of yet another bang. Catching sight of her white face in the hall mirror, she picked up the phone to call for help.

  Chapter 4

  Kieran stretched out on the unfamiliar leather corner couch, resting his arms behind his head and savouring the pleasure he was receiving from the Fitzgerald & Partners receptionist. Flinching slightly as her nails dug into the flesh on his lean stomach, he quickly moved his arms and dragged his fingers through her hair before pulling her face to his and letting their lips meet once more, their tongues exploring and teasing. Her surprise attention was a timely distraction, a delaying mechanism, an opportunity to stall his decision-making.

  Leaving Olivia’s office in a blur of mixed emotions – confusion and vulnerability top of the list – he was anxious to get out of the building as fast as possible. Hearing hurried footsteps behind, he’d been surprised when the receptionist called his name and asked him to hold the lift.

  He nodded his acknowledgement as the lift began its descent. “Come here often?” he deadpanned.

  The attractive girl brought a hand to her face, smirking at his old-fashioned chat-up line. “Just about five days every week,” she answered cheekily. “Your meeting cut short?”

  “Ah, there wasn’t any more to be said.” Kieran’s eyes were drawn yet again to her scarlet nails. He was overcome by a neediness he barely recognised, a desperate desire to dissipate the effects Polly’s will was having on him. “Fancy going for a drink?” he asked, surprising himself as much as her. Indulging in mindless chatter and hopefully a little more with the raven-haired
beauty might help him put the notion of setting down roots out of his fuddled mind. “Or a bite to eat?” he added, realising the blatant presumption in his initial question.

  “Don’t you want to know my name first?” She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow just as the lift came to a stop and the doors slid open. Together they stepped onto the marble floor of the public area, the frisson in the air between them diffusing and replaced with an awkward silence.

  But Kieran had his mind set on extending their meeting, determined to see (and touch) more of the sexy vixen standing close to him. “It’s Amy, isn’t it?” Luckily he’d taken a fleeting glance at the nameplate on her desk, his subconscious obviously memorising the detail, useful now as it turned out.

  “Yes!” She was clearly impressed that he’d taken the trouble to remember her name.

  “So? Are you going to accept my invitation?”

  Amy nodded and giggled. “Okay, why not! There’s a nice bistro not too far from here. They serve a great early bird.”

  Not quite what Kieran had in mind. He’d hoped they’d skip main course, mellow over a few drinks and get straight to dessert but he wasn’t in a position to argue. Following her into the street outside, he let her lead the way.

  Evening traffic was building in Cork city, noise levels high as they walked past the Clarion Hotel and crossed the street to the South Mall.

  “Well, hello, Kieran!”

  Surprised to bump into his uncle, Kieran had little choice but to stop and chat.

  “Seth, this is Amy, eh, a friend of mine,” he introduced them. “Amy, this is my Uncle Seth.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Amy said politely.

  “And you too,” Seth drooled.

  His appreciation of the attractive young girl was a bit too obvious for Kieran’s liking and Amy was looking a bit uncomfortable too.

  Kieran made his excuses and moved on as quickly as possible. His bachelor uncle was something of a bad boy – in many respects.

  Granted, Amy was guaranteed to have an effect on any man. Deliberately allowing her to walk a pace ahead of him for a moment, he admired her shapely figure, his desire intensifying. Neither had made a secret of their attraction, both playing the same coy game of cat and mouse. But not for too long more as far as Kieran was concerned.

  Eating together was fun, the chemistry rising between them, their fingers touching as they reached for the salt at the same time, his long legs leaning against hers underneath the small table, his jeans rubbing against her bare skin. Her cheeks flushed, her wineglass emptying faster, the grin on her face broadening. She wanted him and he knew it. He wanted her and her determination to make him wait was fighting a losing battle with her body’s hunger. Appetites satisfied, their food barely tasted, they made a hasty exit from the restaurant, hurried along the streets and surrendered to the inevitable as soon as they’d entered her apartment.

  Chapter 5

  Jess’s heart thumped as she walked closely behind her brother, Henry. She cowered near the boundary hedge separating the back gardens of Number 4 and Number 5, her torch clutched firmly in her hand, the cold wind penetrating her light clothing. Her sister-in-law, Pru, had offered to keep an eye on Greg who had slept soundly throughout the disturbance. Pru hadn’t been in any rush to investigate the intrusion. Jess hadn’t commented, only too aware that her brother would immediately jump to his wife’s defence. Though he was only three years older than Jess, she’d always looked upon him as much older. Since he’d married Pru, who did her best to deny she was a couple of years older than Henry, Jess thought her brother was even more serious than he’d been before. A typical sombre accountant, she thought, visualising him crouched over his desk in the Bandon accountancy office where he aspired to make partner.

  Though the banging had subsided, Jess couldn’t rest until she knew for sure that she and Greg were safe. She hadn’t thought beyond securing that knowledge, had no idea what approach they’d take if there were intruders next door, and was literally taking one step at a time.

  Inhaling deeply and standing up straighter, she told herself it was probably her imagination and reprimanded herself for being silly. She continued to trail Henry into the lane that ran behind the houses and through the open gate next door. Damn, she thought, why is the gate open? It had definitely been closed earlier in the day when she’d put the recycling bin into the lane for collection.

  Treading carefully in the neighbour’s garden, she noticed the overgrown grass, shrubs and hedging and the pieces of withered copper beech that blew around what used to be a tidy lawn.

  “At least the shed’s still locked,” she whispered to Henry, flicking on the torch and shining the beam on the strong padlock. “No evidence it was tampered with either.”

  “Good,” her brother responded, continuing ahead of her towards the back of the house.

  Moving as near Henry as she could, Jess bit her lip. She couldn’t help wondering if noises had come from the house on any other occasion. Would she have heard them? Or would she have dismissed them, too busy keeping things on an even keel in Number 4 to concern herself with anything else? Could it be that the silence in her own house tonight was amplifying everything going on around her? Jess couldn’t be sure.

  As brother and sister neared the back door, she slowed her pace right down, convinced something had moved in the shadows. Or was it merely debris blowing around in the grass? Glancing around, her eyes more accustomed to the dark now, her pounding heart increased tempo.

  “Henry, did you see something over there?” she whispered.

  “Will you relax?” Henry snapped.

  She flashed the torch around once more, relieved to see the door and windows were still intact.

  “No broken windows here at least, Henry,” she said to her brother.

  “But we should probably check the front and side of the house as well,” he shot back.

  “Great! Thanks for the comforting words,” she replied, suspecting her brother was as nervous as she but reluctant to admit it.

  “You definitely heard banging?”

  Jess sensed her brother’s irritation. “Yes. Definitely.” She put extra emphasis on her response, needing him to take her seriously and wondering why he didn’t pay her the attention he gave to his wife. Then again, she reasoned, ignoring somebody like Pru wouldn’t be an option even for the toughest of men.

  “And it wasn’t just the wind?”

  “No!” Now Jess sounded exasperated.

  Henry took the torch from his sister, flashing it along the path at the back of the house, shining it on an upended recycling bin and turning to look at her. “I think we’ve found the root of the banging,” he said aloud.

  But Jess wasn’t so sure. “How can an upturned bin continue to bang?”

  “The lid? An animal stepping on it, making it clatter?”

  “Hardly!” She flashed the torch around again and unable to find any other explanation gave more consideration to his suggestion. “Is that all you think it was? Really?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Feeling a little foolish for panicking now, she wondered if she should have bothered alerting Henry in the first place. But she couldn’t have left little Greg unsupervised while she risked coming to check the place on her own. Her very first evening living alone and she’d had to call for help. I’ll have to get used to managing solo, she thought, taking the torch from Henry as he kicked the spilled contents of the bin into the corner.

  Though she’d had years without anyone special to turn to, Jess had never lived without another adult. And even then she’d experienced intense loneliness, forcing her to believe that living with the wrong person could be as miserable as being alone, a contradiction in itself considering the vibrancy her son’s presence brought to the house. Little Greg chatted from the moment he opened his eyes each morning, his facial expressions dancing with bright-eyed enthusiasm. By the time he fell into a sound sleep each evening, she’d answered a million questions, tryin
g to explain the simplest of things to his inquisitive mind. Thinking about him sleeping in Number 4, stretched innocently on the recliner chair with a plaid blanket tucked tightly around him made Jess eager to return to him.

  “But you said you heard a noise from inside?” Henry asked then, having a sudden change of heart and looking around him, listening for a moment.

  But aside from the wind that had started to abate, everything seemed still, no evidence at all to back up her claim.

  Jess shrugged, suddenly doubting what she’d heard earlier. “I suppose it could have been the lid of the bin. I’m not quite as certain now to be honest. I shouldn’t have annoyed you with this.”

  “You were right to call me. And don’t hesitate if you feel the need again . . .” His voice trailed off and he rubbed his sister’s arm in a rare display of affection. “Things seem okay now though. Are you happy to leave it at that?”

  “I suppose it could have been overreaction on my part,” she admitted, placing a hand on the back-door handle to check it was locked, her back stiffening when it yielded at her touch. “It’s not locked, Henry,” she said in surprise. “In fact it didn’t seem to be even closed properly!” The solid wood door swung open.

  Henry came and stood beside her. “Shine the torch on it.”

  She did as she was told and flashed the torch on the open doorway and along the doorframe.

  “I don’t think it’s any great mystery – just that somebody has left and forgotten to lock it.” He pulled it closed and pushed it open a few times. “Being an old door the clasp probably wasn’t strong enough to hold it against the wind. That’s more than likely the noise you heard.”