him. My tears have dried up. I feel a lot better now that Amanda knows about the card and is going to help me figure it out.
When we walk back into the kitchen, Conor is sitting with Shay in his arms. He smiles when we step in the door. ‘I hope you ladies had a nice chat?’ he says, winking over at me.
I walk with Amanda out to the car. I’m about to close the car door when she says, ‘I told Mam. She didn’t say anything, but she knows about Shay.’
‘Do you think she might ring me?’
Amanda puts her hand in the air to cut the conversation. ‘Not going there, Laura. I just want you to know she knows.’
I wave Amanda down the driveway and out onto the road until her car disappears around the bend. So, Mam knows she has a grandson. I wonder will she call me? I’d love to call her, just to hear her voice, but I tried so many times in the early days. I don’t think I could take another silent response. The piercing click of the phone going dead.
Chapter Ten
I’m taking Amanda’s advice: I’m going to mingle with the natives and see what I can find out.
Conor is concerned that I’m planning to drive so soon after the birth what with the stitches and all, but I tell a little lie; I tell him that the nurse said I was to start back driving as soon as is possible, and that I feel much better. I wouldn’t take the chance if I didn’t.
I’m slightly nervous driving out through the gates. It seems weird to be behind the wheel, travelling on my own again. By the time I reach the village, I’m back into the swing of it.
There’s a small car park by the playground where a couple of cars are parked, but it’s mostly empty. I check my lipstick in the mirror before venturing out on to the main street.
The first time I took these steps, the village gave me the feeling of being on holiday. Everything was strange, different, exciting. Living here was going to be wonderful. I would get to know everybody and everybody would get to know me. Little did I know what was in store.
Three ladies are sitting in the coffee shop when I look through the window. This would be a good start; I’m sure they have plenty of opinions on what happened to poor Vicky, and maybe even let slip someone’s name who wasn’t happy about my marriage to Conor.
I recognise one of the ladies from the Spar store down the street. She glances up but doesn’t acknowledge me.
Maybe if I sit at a table next to them, take out my phone and just eavesdrop, I’ll overhear something of interest, or they might ask me to join them. With determination in my blood, I head for the door. There are two tall people entering in front of me. They push open the door and walk to the counter. They don’t belong here. I can tell by their stern faces and suited clothing. When I glance through the window again, I see the three women looking ominously at each other, nudging one another when they see who is walking in. They must be the detectives.
My courage evaporates, replaced by a sickening feeling. That poor girl. They’re here for one reason only: to find out who killed Vicky Murphy. They’re not the regular police. The village only has the one detective, Fintan Ryan, a friend of Conor’s. He’s been to the house once or twice, nice guy, married with two kids. I wonder what Fintan Ryan would think if he knew about the card I received.
Having decided against going into the coffee shop while the detectives are in there, I walk on down the road and arrive at the main Spar store. It’s the closest thing to city life in this place. The shop is modern, open two years, according to Conor. He said it replaced Murphy’s grocery store which had served the community for over sixty years. Grabbing a basket, I decide to saunter around. Hopefully I’ll bump into someone I know.
Six tomatoes and a head of lettuce in, I see Ciara… I can’t remember her surname, and decide I have bait for my fish.
‘Ciara!’ I call out, waving as I walk over to where she’s standing reading the ingredients on the back of a packet of sauce mix. ‘Thank you so much for the card. Conor