had replied.
Her daddy used to tell her stories about kids who had it tough at home. Despite her early age, she’d understood Roz’s predicament and hadn’t said another word. Opening her lunchbox, she split her own lunch in half. Sandwiches, juice, strawberries, cheese squares and carrot sticks – she’d had enough for a picnic for two.
Dympna used to envy her friend’s freedom. Roz went to bed whenever she wanted and chose what time to get up. Looking back now, she could see that her friend had got the short end of the stick. It was easy to see where Roz’s anxieties stemmed from, but would things have been any better if she’d been taken into care? Dympna picked at the paint-chipped window and barely heard Seamus enter the room. Her concerns must have been laid bare on her face, because he asked what was wrong.
‘It’s Roz,’ she said, reluctant to break her promise. ‘She might be in trouble and I don’t know what to do.’
Seamus followed her over to the sofa. He looked smart in his shirt and tie, having finished late at work. Dympna had met him through his father’s estate agent business when she was looking for a place to rent. She’d immediately been taken in by his dark wavy hair and warm hazel eyes.
‘What sort of trouble?’ Seamus said, his face scrunching into a frown. Three years older than her, he was a man in Dympna’s eyes. She admired his ambition. There wasn’t a day that passed when he didn’t say something to encourage her to aim a little higher herself. She trusted him, which was why she needed his advice.
‘I can’t say. I promised Roz I’d keep it a secret.’ She sighed, gathering up a pile of magazines to clear a space on the sofa for them. ‘It’s hard, though. She made a decision I don’t agree with and now I’m worried about how she’s getting on.’
‘Is this to do with the job abroad?’ Seamus threaded his fingers together as he sat down. ‘I thought that all happened a bit fast.’
Dympna picked at a loose thread in the knee of her jeans. ‘There’s no job.’ That much she could say. She had agreed not to mention the pregnancy, so her promise was still technically intact. She wished she’d inserted a clause in case of extreme worry.
Seamus began cracking his knuckles, and she gave him an elbow to the ribs. She hated it when he did that.
‘So . . . she’s not gone to America for a job?’ he said, but his words were stilted, as if he was reluctant to hear her response.
Dympna let it go. She had a tendency to read too deeply into things. ‘She’s gone away to sort something out. Something she couldn’t fix over here.’ She pursed her lips. She was close to the imaginary line that should not be crossed. ‘I can’t say any more than that.’ But Seamus was clever. If he figured it out on his own it was hardly her fault.
‘And it’s nothing to do with work?’ Seamus said, staring ahead at the television, even though it was turned off.
‘No, it’s not.’ A sense of betrayal crept in. She could almost feel Roz’s disapproving glare. She inhaled deeply, catching the scent of Seamus’s aftershave. It was spiced musk, sexy and inviting. She wished she could forget about Roz and drag Seamus off to bed.
‘So how did she afford the flights?’
Dympna sighed. She did not trust herself to answer.
‘Someone paid for her to fly abroad?’ he said.
She nodded, feeling like she was in a game of charades.
‘So, she’s gone to sort out her problem,’ Seamus continued. ‘Is it to do with her mother?’
‘No,’ Dympna replied, ‘and she can’t know about this.’
Silence fell between them. Outside, car horns beeped and late-night shoppers chattered below their flat window, but Dympna barely heard them. She was too wrapped up with Seamus, willing him to guess correctly so she didn’t have to deal with this on her own. She toyed with the ends of her hair as she stared, unblinking, at his face. She could almost hear his thoughts ticking over in his brain.
‘Is she pregnant?’ he said quietly. ‘Has she gone for an abortion?’
The practice was illegal in Ireland, although most women in this predicament went to the UK. Seamus’s first presumption was right but the second was wrong, so Dympna shrugged in response.
‘I’ve said too much. Besides, she’s gone. There’s nothing I can do except wait to hear from her.’
Seamus nodded,