Cruel Winter: A County Cork Mystery

by Sheila Connolly

  “Thanks, Maura.” Rose turned to the line of men waiting for bread. “Don’t shove. There’s enough fer everyone.”

  Since Rose seemed to have things under control, Maura backed away to stand next to Gillian’s chair. “Well, now that we’ve lost power, we can’t get a weather report,” she pointed out.

  “We can with a phone,” Gillian said. She pulled hers from a pocket and clicked on something, then read out the results. “Looks like snow, followed by snow, then mixed with snow for the next twelve hours, all accompanied by high winds. They won’t guess beyond that.” She turned off her phone again to save the battery. If there was any message from Harry, Gillian didn’t say.

  “If the soup’s not enough for this lot, I brought back some potatoes we could bake in the coals,” Rose added. “And apples. We won’t starve, Maura. We’re fine.”

  Something in Maura relaxed. Rose was right: they had everything they needed, and this weather wouldn’t last forever. Maybe a day. They could manage for that long, couldn’t they? No doubt the building had survived worse. “Rose, you’re absolutely right. Everybody, you might want to turn off your phones in case we’ll need them later. The lamps will do for now, and you don’t need to be playing games or texting your friends on your phones with pictures of the snow.” Maura noticed the two Dublin musicians turning off their phones, looking embarrassed.

  “If it’s coal yer needing, I can fetch some fer yeh,” Seamus volunteered—he had drained his mug of soup.

  “I’ll go with you,” Maura said quickly. “It’s out the back, in the shed.” At least, she hoped it was. She glanced quickly at Mick, who gave her a slight nod. So at least Jimmy hadn’t helped himself to that too. “Follow me,” she told the man, then led the way out the side door toward the sheds.

  She wasn’t prepared for the blast of cold, snow-laden air that hit her as soon as she wrestled the door open. Seeing the weather from inside the warm pub was nothing like standing in the midst of it, and it sucked her breath away. “This way,” she yelled over the howling wind. Luckily the storage sheds lay close to the building, beside and behind it. As she remembered, Mick usually bought both coal and turf in large burlap sacks, and they were easy to find. Both appeared to be more than half-full, which was good. “So nobody’s expecting you at home, Seamus?” Maura yelled into the wind as her companion filled the bucket.

  “I told yeh, herself is off visiting her sister in Galway, so I’m on me own. I’d hate to miss this adventure.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way. I haven’t done this before.”

  “Ah, it’ll be grand—you’ll see. As yer young Rose said, we’ve everything we need. Even a celebrity in our midst.”

  Uh-oh. “What do you mean?” Maura asked cautiously.

  “That woman, Diane—you wouldn’t know her, but time was, she was suspected of murder.”

  Great. Someone else knew, although Mick had warned her that might happen. “Don’t say anything, okay? We’re all stuck here together for the night, and I don’t want anyone to start a something unpleasant.”

  “Would I be doin’ that? I can keep my gob shut, but I won’t say as much fer other people.”

  Maura was afraid he meant Jimmy. “How many are likely to know about her?”

  “It was big news once, not so much lately. But here in Ireland, we take unsolved murders very seriously. I’d guess one or two of the others might recall. Not the young ones.”

  Jimmy and his big mouth worried her. “Could you try to stop the talk if it comes up?”

  “Might there be a free pint in it fer me?”

  “I’m pretty sure there would be.”

  “Don’t fret yerself, Maura. I’m the last man to want to see any trouble in the pub tonight.”

  “Thank you, Seamus. Let’s get back in there before my ears freeze off.”

  Seamus hoisted the heavy bucket and followed Maura back inside. Now she could appreciate just how much warmer it was inside. “We’ve got coal!” she announced.

  Several bricks now supported the grate. Rose knelt in front of the fireplace and began adding coal to the dwindling fire. “Am I doin’ it right, Billy? I’ve never built a fire to cook over.”

  Billy had lowered himself to kneel beside Rose in front of the fire. “Yer doin’ fine, girl. Don’t pack it in, let it breathe. And ye’ll have to wait a bit for the coal to catch before yeh try to cook over it.” There was a collective groan from the several people in the room. “Ah, quit yer whingin’,” Billy said. “Yer warm and dry, and you’ve food in yer stomach. What more could yeh be looking fer?”

  “A pint!” one of the musicians called out. Liam, was it? Everyone turned to look at Maura.

  “Sure, why not?” How much could this small group put away, anyway? Gillian and Rose weren’t drinking, and Billy stretched out a single pint for hours.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Mick said, sliding behind the bar. The men clustered around it quickly, which forced Diane to retreat to a corner table as far away from the fire as possible. She looked cold, so Maura picked up her coat where she’d left it by the bar and took it to her.

  “You look like you might want this,” Maura said, holding up the coat.

  Diane was so lost in her own thoughts that it took her a moment to focus on Maura. “Oh. Thanks, Maura.”

  “Can I get you some more coffee? Anything else? Did you get some soup?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Everything about the woman radiated “Leave me alone!” even if she didn’t say it aloud.

  So Maura did just that and went to the other end of the room, where Billy and Gillian were watching Rose set the fire to her liking. She’d got the fire going, the irregular chunks of coal glowing red around the edges. Now she was focused on placing the bricks just so to support the grill. “Will that be steady enough, do yeh think, Billy?”

  “Looks grand. I’m thinkin’ yer about ready fer the bread now.”

  Rose gave the grill one last prod to make sure it was solidly placed, then stood and dusted herself off. “All right, listen now. If yer wantin’ some toast, now’s the time. I don’t want to see you pushin’ and shovin’ at the fire. We’re in no hurry.”

  “If we eat all the bread now, what’ll we do fer breakfast?” Donal asked plaintively.

  “Yeh can have a nice potato and be glad of it, Donal Lafferty,” Rose said.

  Maura stifled a smile at Rose’s tone and dragged a chair over next to Gillian’s, a few feet away from the fire now. “Any word from Harry?”

  “No, not that I expected to hear,” Gillian said in a dull voice.

  Trouble? “Are things all right at the house?”

  Gillian summoned up a smile. “Apart from the O’Briens each looking down their noses at me all day long? As right as can be expected. Harry and I are fine, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s glad I’ve been at the house to keep Eveline company, and she and I might have come to be something like friends now. Not that he doesn’t trust the O’Briens to look after her, but he likes the second opinion. It all worked out fine until this past week when she took ill. She’s a smart woman—it’s a shame that she never had much chance to use her intelligence. But she was raised in a very different world. We’ve been going through old photos and the like. I track the albums down and bring them to her, and she tells me who all the people are. It’d surprise you how quick the time goes.”

  “Have you and Harry talked about any . . . plans?” Like what they were going to do when the baby came, or when Eveline passed away, or possibly both at once.

  “You know that the Trust gets the property, right?” When Maura nodded, Gillian went on, “Eveline’s apologized more than once that she has little to leave to us. She’s hoping to hold on until the baby’s come, but she knows she’s weakening. Harry, poor lamb, alternates between complete denial and a blue funk. Either everything’s fine or it’s all going to hell. I never know which Harry I’ll be talking to.”

  Maura looked around the room. The soup was ready—and
smelled wonderful, but then there had been no lunch, and now it was nearly suppertime. The room was reasonably warm and lighted. The men were occupied and looked fairly cheerful. The only false note was Diane, huddled in the far corner, looking out at the snow. But Diane was not asking for help from anyone, and Maura wasn’t about to shove it down her throat. Once the toast crowd had died down, Billy had reclaimed his place near the fire, and Rose had handed him a mug of soup. He seemed to be dozing, his eyes only half-open. Maura turned back to Gillian.

  “Does Harry have any ideas?”

  “For what? For his life? His job? Where he’s going to live? Me? The baby?”

  “Take your pick, Gillian. I don’t mean to poke around in your private life, but you know I’ll help if I can.”

  “I know, and I thank you for it. It’s just that I don’t have a plan either. No home, no money coming in, and a man who can’t seem to make up his mind about anything.”

  Maura studied her friend’s face. After a moment, she said, “If you could have anything you wanted—anything at all—what would it be?”

  Gillian looked at Maura. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes, I am. People should have dreams.”

  “Did you? Before you landed here?”

  It was a fair question. “No. Mostly I was focused on just getting by. You know, paying the bills month to month. I didn’t have much choice. Gran did the best she could, but she was getting older, and she was tired. I think she knew she wouldn’t last long, near the end, and I know she was worried about me. That’s how this whole thing happened. She set things up with Old Mick, and she never said a word to me.”

  “A practical woman, your gran. She might have said nothing because it could have fallen through, and she didn’t want to raise your hopes. I’m guessing she wanted you to be strong in case things didn’t work out. You still miss her, don’t you?”

  “Every day. She was the only family I ever knew. But back to you—you’ve got issues with your own family, right?”

  “I do. They weren’t happy with me when I said I wanted to be an artist, although I’ve never asked them for a penny. They’re even less happy now that this has happened.” Her hand drifted to her swelling belly.

  “They aren’t going to be thrilled by a new grandbaby?”

  “They’re already got a few, all nice and proper in the eyes of the church and the village.”

  “So what, then? You never answered my question. If I had a magic wand and could wave it and make all your dreams come true, what would you ask for?”

  Gillian looked down at her hands in her lap and shook her head. “I’ve no idea. A home with just enough room and a place with good light so I could paint. Someone to love me, and someone to love. Well, I hope I’ve got that last part right, at least in a couple of months.”

  “And do you see Harry in that picture?” Maura asked quietly.

  Gillian looked at her then. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  Seven

  “And what about you, Maura? Where do you see yourself in the future?” Gillian asked, shifting the talk away from herself.

  Exactly the type of question Maura had avoided for most of her life. “I don’t know. I’ve never been the kind of person who worries about the future and tries to plan it because I didn’t think I could. You shouldn’t be surprised if you look at my family—you know the story. My gran lost her husband—otherwise she probably would have lived out her days in one of those cottages up the hill here, with a bunch of kids. Didn’t work out, so she pulled up her socks and found enough money to get herself and her son to Boston. She raised her son there, and from what I know, he turned out all right. He got married, and then I came along. Then he got killed in a stupid work accident, and my mother couldn’t deal with it and walked out. And Gran stepped up. We managed. But tell me, where’s the room for planning in that? So I’ve never wasted much time thinking about things I’ll probably never get.”

  “Do you not think of finding a man, getting married, having children of your own?”

  “Not really. I’ve never been in love with anybody, and nobody’s been in love with me. How can you miss what you’ve never had or even seen?” She’d known her gran only as a widow and didn’t remember her father or mother at all. “And if you’re asking about a biological itch, maybe I’m just not programmed that way. You and Harry have been together, sort of, for years, right?”

  “We have, with no commitment on either side. It worked for us—at least for a while.” Gillian’s expression darkened.

  “Have there been other guys?” Maura asked.

  “A few in Dublin, but none that lasted.”

  “So you’re not exactly the poster girl for relationships.”

  “That I’m not.” Gillian looked around to see if anyone was listening to them. “It may not be my place to say, but you’ve got Mick and Sean sniffing around you.”

  “Ick—that’s a terrible way to put it. Makes them sound like a pair of dogs.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Maura sighed. “Yes, I do. And I can’t exactly tell you to butt out when I’ve been trampling all over your love life.”

  “Do you see yourself with either one of them?”

  “I don’t know. I try not to think about it. I’m not in love with either of them, if that’s want you’re hinting at, but then, like I said, I’ve never been in love with anybody. How’m I supposed to choose? Is there a sign? Symptoms? I feel weak in the knees when one or the other is around? Do I ask them to fight a duel for me? What do I do?”

  “Maura, if you don’t want to talk about it, you can tell me to shut my gob,” Gillian said quietly.

  Maura looked around her. She and Gillian were tucked into a warm corner all but behind the fire, and nobody seemed to be paying any attention to their conversation. Mick was talking to the musicians at the far end of the room, trying to explain how they could plug in their equipment, she guessed from their gestures. No reason not to talk to Gillian now, even though it made her uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry—I haven’t had a lot of women friends in my life, and I’m lousy at this sharing stuff. If I have to say this in ten words or less, I’d tell you that Sean is the sensible choice, but Mick . . . well, he’s the more interesting one.”

  “I won’t argue with that. Sean’s a good man with a steady job, and he works hard. It’s easy to see he cares about you, but he’s letting you set the pace. Mick? Well . . . I’ve known him for years, but I can’t say I really know him. He keeps a lot to himself. Kind of like you, Maura.”

  “Which sounds like a recipe for disaster,” Maura replied quickly. “Is he hiding something? Some deep, dirty secret in his past? Why’s he working at a dead-end job here? He’s clearly got some brains, and he could do better.”

  “You’ll have to ask him that, Maura,” Gillian said. “I’d wager looking out for Bridget is one reason, and I’ll give him credit for that. Beyond that, I can’t say.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me to follow my heart, are you?” Maura asked her, suspicious. “Because that’s been pretty quiet lately.”

  “You’ve seen how well I’ve managed my love life, so I’m hardly the one to give you advice. But I will say this: Harry’s always been special to me, even when I was with one or another different man. I’ve been waiting for a long time for him to grow up and figure things out. And it may be he never does. But I’ll survive. So will you, Maura, no matter what you decide.”

  Maura nodded once, acknowledging what Gillian had said. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not encouraging either one of them. I want to sort out my own life before I get tied up with someone else. I may not even stay here in Ireland forever. I haven’t made up my mind.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll stay, even if that’s selfish of me. As for the other, Maura, you’re young yet. These things have a way of sneaking up on you while you’re not looking.”

  Maura bristled in spite of herself. “Don’t you go all smug on me and no
d and think I’ll wake up one morning and know what my heart wants. That’s your baby hormones talking. What do they call it? Nesting instinct? Now you want everybody to nest.”

  “Maybe,” Gillian said, smiling. “There are worse fates, Maura Donovan.”

  Billy opened his eyes and said quietly, “Maura, would you care to invite yer guest to join us here where it’s warmer?” He nodded toward Diane, huddled alone at a table at the opposite end of the room.

  Maura felt a pang of guilt: Diane did look kind of miserable. “I didn’t want to bother her if she wants some peace,” she told Billy. “I asked if she wanted soup, and she said no.”

  “If yeh leave her there, it’ll be pneumonia she ends up with,” Billy said. “The window on that side could do with a bit of patching—the draft is wicked.”

  Since Maura seldom had time to sit in her own pub, that hadn’t occurred to her. “Thanks, Billy. I don’t spend a lot of time at a table over there, you know.”

  “I do. Go on wit’ yeh now and talk to the poor woman.”

  Maura stood up and walked across to the other end of the room. Billy was right: away from the fire, the temperature dropped quickly, and as she passed the front door, she could feel cold air seeping in. The corner where Diane sat was as far as possible from both the fire and the men clustered around the bar—keeping themselves warm on the outside with each other’s body heat and on the inside with Guinness. The far corner had to be at least twenty degrees colder than the fireside, and it wasn’t going to get any warmer. Maura dropped into a chair across from Diane.

  “Would you like to sit closer to the fire? I think you’re turning blue over here.”

  “I’m all right,” the woman said—her statement undermined by the shaking of her hands. Diane noticed and balled them into fists.

  “Look, I can understand if you don’t want to talk, but I’m going to feel really guilty if you freeze to death in my pub,” Maura told her firmly.

  “That’s not likely, but thank you for thinking of me. At the risk of sounding like some movie cliché, I want to be alone. Please?”