by Val Collins
‘He’s a teenager, Aoife. All teenagers are a pain. They don’t think of anyone but themselves. In any case, Blaine isn’t your problem. Conor is. You need to make him understand that Blaine is trying to break up your relationship. Then let Conor sort out Blaine. That’s his job. Not yours.’
‘Why couldn’t I have met him before Katie got pregnant?’
‘I don’t think that would have helped.’
‘Why not? You think he would have preferred Katie?’
‘Well, as you were nine at the time, I certainly hope so.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Of course I know what you mean and it would definitely be easier if neither of you had kids, but that would mean you wouldn’t have Amy either.’
‘Oh God! Why is everything so complic—’
‘What?’
‘He’s phoning me. I’m not sure I want to tal—’
‘Bye. Call me later.’
Aoife stared at her phone for a few seconds, then accepted the call.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
‘I left you dinner.’
‘I saw that. Thank you.’
‘Aoife, I don’t want us to fight.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘You had a bad day and I should have been more understanding. Can we just forget that stupid argument ever happened? Honestly, I wasn’t calling you a bad mother. I think you’re a great mother and you’re very careful and responsible.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Blaine’s great too.’
‘I know.’
‘Well, that’s all that matters. Who cares about the rest of it? Do you want me to come around? Blaine’s watching a movie. He won’t mind staying here on his own.’
‘No. I don’t want you to miss out on your time with Blaine. I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow. Okay?’
‘Okay. I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
Nothing was resolved, but at least they were still together. For now.
FOURTEEN
Lisa
Lisa woke when her mother touched her shoulder.
‘Go to bed, Lisa. You’re exhausted.’
Lisa struggled into a sitting position. ‘I’m fine. Sorry, I’m not very good company, am I?’
‘It’s enough that you’re here. You don’t have to entertain me.’ She handed Lisa a mug of tea and shuffled back to her seat.
‘Mum, did you know Uncle Eamonn planned to leave half his business to Shane?’
‘No. Who told you that?’
‘Eamonn.’
‘Did Shane know?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I’m glad. Eamonn was always a good man.’
‘Which is more than could be said for his son.’
‘I know you and Keith never got on, but you should try and put that behind you, Lisa. When Eamonn and I are gone, Keith will be your only family.’
‘I think he might have murdered Shane.’
‘What? That’s ridiculous! Keith would never do something like that.’
‘Wouldn’t he? What if he had found out that he was losing half his inheritance to Shane?’
‘He’d be angry, of course, but murder?’ She stared into the distance.
‘What?’
‘I do remember Eamonn telling me there was a bit of trouble when Keith was younger.’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Keith was about fifteen at the time. He and a friend fell out over some girl they both liked. A group of them went swimming and some of the group claimed Keith had tried to drown the boy.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘It was probably an accident. Keith grabbed the boy’s legs and pulled him under the water. Kids often do that to one another. Keith said he didn’t mean any harm.’
‘The friend didn’t believe him?’
‘The friend didn’t remember the incident at all. It was others in the group who claimed Keith had deliberately tried to kill the boy.’
‘Why didn’t the friend remember?’
‘Keith pulled the boy underwater and swam away. He claims he didn’t even know anything was wrong until others in the group jumped in to rescue his friend.’
‘Why did he need rescuing?’
‘Somehow the boy banged his head off a nearby rock. Eamonn always believed it was an accident. I never doubted it either until now.’
FIFTEEN
Saturday was one of those rare perfect weather days. There wasn’t one cloud in the sky, something which, with the exception of the once-in-a-decade heatwaves, probably happened about twice a year in Ireland. It was warm enough not to have to wear a jumper but not so hot it was uncomfortable outdoors.
The restaurant in Powerscourt was always overcrowded on a Saturday. Aoife had arrived at midday in case Ruth and her sister were early diners. Almost two hours later, she had examined all the shops adjoining the restaurant and bought herself two rocky roads and six scones from the food shop. Every fifteen minutes she checked the restaurant. Just after 2 p.m. she spotted Ruth standing patiently at the end of the long self-service queue, talking to a much younger woman. Ruth’s sister had the same tiny frame, but her brown curls reached her shoulders. Aoife picked up a tray and helped herself to a plate and knife before going out to the terrace.
In fine weather, everyone in Powerscourt tried to get a table on the terrace. The view of the gardens was spectacular. No matter what the season, the gardens were always a riot of colour, and the terraces, whose intricate designs were made up of tiny grey and white stones, were totally unique. Aoife wasn’t a fan. Whenever she looked at them, she pictured the impoverished Irish peasants who, centuries earlier, had received a daily pittance to cart wheelbarrows of these stones the five miles from the beach in Bray. She preferred to look at the Sugarloaf Mountain. Its slightly off-centre peak really did resemble a mound of sugar that was about to topple over. Aoife admired it as she waited for Ruth to work her way to the top of the restaurant queue. A table on the terrace became empty, but Aoife stood back to allow the people behind her to take it. As Ruth was paying for her food, another table emptied. Aoife hurried over to claim it. She put the two scones she had bought on the plate. Piling most of the previous occupiers’ plates and cups on her now empty tray, Aoife left them to one side for the waiters to remove. She kept one half-eaten salad, to give the impression she’d just finished a meal. As Ruth walked up and down the terrace, searching for an empty seat, Aoife bent down and rooted in her bag. Ruth asked if the seats were vacant and Aoife nodded vigorously, muttering ‘Yes, yes’ without raising her head.
Ruth and her sister placed their food on the table and continued a conversation about the dangers of sugar.
‘It completely changed my eating habits, Susan,’ Ruth said. ‘I haven’t been able to touch sugar since I watched the video.’
Susan laughed. ‘Nothing on this earth could scare me off chocolate. If you told me it would take ten years off my life, I still wouldn’t be able to give it up.’
‘But that’s exactly what it will do, Sus—’ She stopped as Aoife raised her head from her bag and turned her attention to her scone.
‘Aoife!’
‘Oh, hi, Ruth. Nice to see you again.’
‘Er, yes, of course. Er, lovely day, isn’t it?’
‘Beautiful.’ Aoife smiled at Susan. ‘Hi, we haven’t met. I’m Aoife. I’m in Ruth’s book club.’
‘Susan. I’m Ruth’s sister.’
‘Yes, I can see that. You’re very alike.’
Susan smiled. ‘People always say that.’
‘Susan, why don’t we get a seat indoors? It’s so hot out here.’
‘Hot?’ Susan stared at her sister. ‘No, it isn’t. You just said ten minutes ago that the weather was perfect. Is something wrong?’
‘No, of course not. Tell me about the kids. How’s Elena’s new school?’
‘Oh, she loves it. Elena’s my youngest,’ Susan explained. ‘Do you have any kids, Aoife?’
‘Yes, I have a three-year-old daughter.’
‘That’s such a great age. She’s not with you today?’
‘No, it’s her weekend with her dad.’
‘Oh! Well, I suppose it gives you a break. I’m always telling Ruth she should take advantage of the time her boys spend with their father. There have to be some advantages to divorce, right?’
Ruth glared at her. ‘I’m sure Aoife doesn’t want to hear about our kids, Susan.’
Susan frowned and was quiet for a moment. When nobody filled the silence, she said, ‘How do you enjoy the book club, Aoife?’
‘It’s great, although we haven’t had many meetings lately. I’ve enjoyed our WhatsApp chats, though.’
‘Well, Ruth’s is the very best book club in the area. She vets everyone who applies. Most of the members are librarians, teachers or college professors. They’re all very serious about literature. To be honest, it’s a little highbrow for me. I’m more of an Agatha Christie girl myself.’
Aoife smiled. ‘Agatha Christie was a genius in her own right. She’s certainly stood the test of time.’
‘That she has.’
‘And, of course, now that I’m single again, I have more time to devote to reading. How long have you been divorced, Ruth?’
Ruth twisted the thick gold bangle peeking out from beneath the cuff of her red silk blouse. ‘Oh, I don’t know if you could really call it a divorce. Martin and I are very close.’
Susan dropped her fork with a clatter. ‘Please tell me you’re not considering getting back together with that bastard. For God’s sake, Ruth, hasn’t he done enough damage to our family?’
‘Susan! I do not want to discuss my marriage in public.’ Ruth stood up. ‘I need to get out of the sun.’ She picked up her bag and marched into the restaurant.
Susan pushed back her chair. ‘Excuse me, Aoife. I’ll be back in a second.’
Aoife watched her follow Ruth into the restaurant. They stood inside the doorway and chatted for several minutes, casting furtive glances in Aoife’s direction. Ruth walked away and Susan returned to the table. She picked up her bag, stretched her lips into something resembling a smile and said, ‘Nice meeting you, Aoife.’ Leaving her meal untouched on the table, she walked away without another word.
*
‘Ruth and Martin are divorced?’
‘And it wasn’t a recent breakup either.’
‘Did they actually say they were a couple?’
‘How often do you go to someone’s home and they say ‘this is xxx’ and by the way we’re a couple?’
Orla laughed. ‘So it was a simple misunderstanding?’
‘No. They were deliberately giving the impression that they were together.’
‘Why would they do that?’
‘The only possible reason is that they thought it would make them seem less suspicious to the police.’
‘But the police would have looked them up. They’d already know Martin and Ruth were divorced.’
‘Yes, but if they had seen them together as I did, they’d assume they had reconciled.’
‘Why would being together make them seem less suspicious to the police?’
‘I interviewed five other members of the book club and asked them about Ruth. One of them knew about the divorce. She said Martin had been having affairs for years. Ruth turned a blind eye until she discovered one of his affairs was with her sister.’
‘Susan?’
‘No. The woman I spoke to couldn’t remember the sister’s name but she said it was something like Tricia or Triona.’
‘So Martin had several women. Was one of them Fiona?’
‘I don’t know, but that’s something he might prefer the police didn’t find out.’
‘True. But why would Ruth care if they found out?’
Aoife disconnected the call and sat staring at her notes. She had no idea how to find out what Ruth and Martin were up to, but she was pretty sure Derek could help.
*
Aoife had never been to Jenny and Derek’s house before, and she was surprised to discover they owned a four-bed detached house directly across the road from Marley Park.
‘This is a fabulous location, Jenny.’
‘It should be for what we paid for it. Of course, it didn’t help that we bought at the height of the property boom.’
She brought two cups of coffee into the sitting room and cleared a space on the cluttered table, shoving Trailfinders brochures and textbooks to one side.
‘I set up a special room downstairs and the girls have a study area in their bedrooms, but they insist on sitting on the floor and using this table for their homework.’
‘At least they’re not refusing to study.’
‘True. They’re good kids.’
Aoife pointed at the travel brochures. ‘Are you planning a holiday?’
‘Yep. My fortieth birthday present from Derek. I told him we can’t afford it, but he says he’s been putting money away every month for ten years and we are going somewhere fabulous whether I want to or not.’
‘Oh my God! I envy you.’
‘You’ll be going on your honeymoon soon. You should start planning now.’
‘I don’t think we’ll go anywhere major. I intend to have a tiny wedding. I’ve done the whole big wedding once before and I didn’t even like it the first time.’
‘You didn’t like the wedding? That’s not a good sign.’
‘It was a bad time. My parents weren’t long dead. If I’d had any sense, I would have known that was the worst time to commit to anything. But then I was a teenager. Even if I’d had any family to warn me against it, I probably wouldn’t have listened.’
‘My parents didn’t want me to marry Derek. I didn’t listen. I knew from day one that there was no other man for me.’
‘How did you know?’
‘Derek doesn’t say much to most people. In the early days he didn’t even say much to me, but I could see who he really was. I knew he was the kind of man who didn’t give easily, but when he gave, he gave one hundred percent.’ She smiled at Aoife. ‘And I was right.’
‘Actually, Derek is the reason I wanted to talk to you, Jenny. He doesn’t trust me and he won’t tell me anything about the investigation.’
‘He—’
Aoife held up a hand. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I fully understand there are things Derek wouldn’t be allowed to tell me, but he won’t tell me anything at all. If I asked him the name of the victim, he’d say he couldn’t share that information.’
Jenny laughed. ‘Derek is a letter-of-the-law kind of guy. I don’t see what I can do to help. I’m assuming you know I won’t spy for you?’
‘Of course I know. I was hoping you could tell me how I could win his trust.’
‘In the short term, you can’t. That would take years.’
‘If you were me, what would you do?’
Jenny pointed at a plate of biscuits for Aoife to help herself, then sat back in her chair and sipped her coffee. ‘Derek has two priorities in life—his family and bringing law-breakers to justice. He’d never break the law, but he’d bend it if it would help him catch Shane’s murderer. Of course, first you’d have to convince him that Shane was actually murdered. Then you’d have to come up with evidence the police didn’t have already. That would prove to him that you were valuable and worth collaborating with.’
‘Even if I found that evidence, how would I know the police didn’t already have it?’
‘I’m not an investigator, Aoife. But I think if you find the kind of evidence that will impress Derek, you’ll know it.’
SIXTEEN
The focus of Aoife’s interviews with the book club had changed. Clearly none of them knew Shane. Not many of them knew Ruth well, but most of them had at least one bit of gossip. Then she hit the mother lode—Bronagh.
Bronagh was one of those women determined to never show a trace of aging. Now in her late thirties, she didn’t have a single wrinkle. She wore a whi
te shirt, tied in a bow above a pancake-flat stomach and tight shorts that barely covered her behind. When she bent down to pick up a toy, the tendons in her leg stood out. She must spend half her days in the gym. Judging by the family photos that adorned every wall, Bronagh’s children were still young. Aoife wondered if they would influence their mother’s style choice once they became teenagers.
At the mention of Ruth, a shadow passed over her face.
‘I set up the book club. It was supposed to be a joint venture.’ Bronagh pursed her lips. ‘But as usual, Ruth took over. Then she gets tired of it and just dumps us. Well, if she thinks I’m going to do all the work while she takes the credit, she has another thing coming.’
‘You must have known Ruth a long time, then.’
‘Oh yes, we used to be friends until she stabbed me in the back. I was the one who found our first sixteen members. Do you have any idea how hard it is to recruit serious readers for a book club that doesn’t even exist?’
‘It must have been difficult.’
‘You have no idea. Then, when I had done all the work, she went on the radio and told everyone about her book club. She didn’t even mention me. I was furious. And when I think of all the hours I wasted listening to her moaning about that useless husband of hers.’
‘I heard they were divorced.’
‘Aren’t you lucky you only heard it? I lived through it. Every single day I listened to her moan. Martin this, Martin that. What would the kids do without their father? Would Martin be able to claim half her money?’
‘Ruth has money?’
‘You didn’t know? She owns Kinsella Household Products. You must have heard of it. The company’s very successful. It was doing well before the divorce, but it’s worth even more now. I swear the only reason Ruth was interested in that book club was so she could sell her products to its members. We all dread going to her house.’
‘Really? Ruth said everyone loves her coffee and her baking.’
‘Her food’s nice enough. It doesn’t make up for the constant sales spiel.’ Adopting a high-pitched voice that bore no resemblance to Ruth’s, Bronagh said, ‘Have you ever tasted better coffee, ladies? Let me show you my new coffee machine. It’s not even on the market yet, but I can put one aside for all of you. I’ll even give you a special discount.’ Bronagh snorted. ‘There must be a hundred machines in that kitchen of hers, and she’s bored us with minute descriptions of every single one. Thank God she only gets to host the book club twice a year or we’d have lost all our members by now.’