you make the list?’ Her voice interrupts the silence.
‘Yes.’
‘Okay, ring me tonight and we’ll go through it.’
‘Amanda,’ I don’t want her to go. To leave me here on my own with these thoughts building up in my head. These crazy thoughts.
‘What?’
‘Do you think…?’
‘Do I think what, Laura? Come on, I’m in a hurry here.’
‘Ah it doesn’t matter, we’ll talk later.’
I hang up the phone and stare at the drops of rain landing on the windscreen in front of me. Taking breath after breath, I urge myself to relax, willing the darkness in my mind away. Conor didn’t kill Vicky. Conor didn’t kill Vicky. He was with me. He couldn’t have got up in the middle of the night without me noticing. He isn’t capable of murder. Georgina did not direct her comment at me. I have to stop ruining things for myself. I need to allow myself to be happy. I’m going to be happy.
Chapter Thirteen
Back at home, Conor stands up from his cozy corner on the sofa when I walk into the room.
‘Well look at you, beautiful.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, puffing my hair with my hand. ‘Is it alright?’
He’s beside me now, looking down into my eyes. I like that Conor is taller than me, it makes me feel protected for some reason. Safe. Well it used to. Now, I’m not so sure.
‘Yes Laura, it’s lovely. But sure, you’re always beautiful to me.’
I let his comment soothe me then wonder does he really mean it. Olive is so much prettier than me and Abbie, she could pass for a model. When I look in the mirror all I see is plain old Laura. Nothing special about my green eyes or brown hair. I’ll never win awards for my bone structure, and the freckles dotted across my nose have always annoyed me. Conor loves them. Says they’re shaped like a constellation. Little Dipper. Well at least he didn’t say, Big Dipper.
‘How was Shay?’ The TV mumbles in the background.
‘Not a bother.’
After removing my coat, I walk over to the crib to check on my world. Shay’s head is tilted sideways, his little arms stretched up either side of his head. Already I think I see differences in him, he’s bigger for one, his nose not so pointy. Or maybe I’m just getting used to it. The tuft of dark hair on top of his head sticks up. I place the palm of my hand on top to flatten it, then kiss him gently, careful not to wake him up. Conor updates me on what, when and how he took his bottle, changed his nappy, got him to sleep, then offers to make me a coffee.
‘What time are you heading out to the match?’
‘Oh, I didn’t know if I should go or not.’
Conor is standing still with the kettle in his hand, a look of anticipation crossing his face. Is she really going to let me go?
‘Why wouldn’t you go? I’ll be fine here,’ I say, turning my attention back to the baby. ‘Myself and Shay will have a grand afternoon together, won’t we?’
‘Well, if you don’t mind?’
I don’t mind; I want him to go. I want to have another look around the house. It’s possible I put the card someplace else, especially with how tired I was feeling and the painkillers. I might have even put it in the bookshelf where I hid Conor’s birthday card last month. I don’t think so. I’m certain I put it under the magazine but it’s worth a try.
Conor looks at his watch, his big expensive birthday present from his dad. I want to say for his twenty-first, but apparently he was given a new car for that achievement. He points his two fingers at me like shotguns.
‘You’re sure about this? Because I don’t mind missing it, it’s only a friendly game.’
‘Go out and have some fun, Conor.’
‘Okay.’ He leaves the kitchen, takes the stairs two at a time and whistles his way to the bedroom. That doesn’t sound like a man who’s just killed someone. And anyway, he’d have to have a motive. Which, given that I never heard him mention Vicky Murphy’s name once before her death, is highly unlikely.
A short time later he’s back down, showered, shaved and dressed like a handsome devil.
‘Are you going for a pint after the game?’ I say, feeling guilty for having harboured some doubts about him earlier.
‘Is that not pushing my luck?’ Conor raises his eyebrows and smiles at me.