end of the service. Thank God. I realise I shouldn’t be here. The church is not the place to come when leaving a baby with a sitter for the first time. Distraction is what’s needed. Not a place where all you can do is think.
The priest invites everyone to shake hands, make peace, and we do, Conor and I. He squeezes my hand, a soft smile brightening his worried face. I’m forgiven.
Then he shakes Abbie’s hand and I shake Noel’s hand and those of the woman in front and the man behind.
I’ve just about shaken as many hands as possible, when Olive turns around. Holding out her hand to Conor she shakes it, then mine, then Abbie’s but when Noel stretches his hand out, she blanks him, purposely. Olive turns back around. Noel pulls his hand back quickly but not before Abbie and I stare at the empty response. I think my display of reckless indifference with my phone will take second place to Olive’s blatant refusal to shake Noel’s hand. What was that about? Am I the only one who saw that? Why would Olive not shake Noel’s hand?
My mind goes into overdrive. What does Olive know? Has something happened? How will I find out? I could ask Abbie if there’s any bad history between them, and why she thinks Olive would blank Noel. It was pretty clear Noel was willing to let bygones be bygones; if there is animosity between them it seems to be one-sided. But what if this gesture does not belong to the past? What if it has something to do with Vicky?
Not wanting to make another holy show of myself, for Conor’s sake as well as my own, I get in the queue and accept the communion. Passing by the bereaved family, my heart sinks, seeing their red eyes, sunken faces and heads leaning on one another. The priest mentioned Vicky’s mother, her grandfather and two cousins. There was no mention of a father or siblings so she may have been an only child. Her mother is a single mam who, according to the priest, never worked, spending all her days caring for Vicky until the girl went out into the big world only for this unbelievable crime to befall her.
So where had Vicky got the money to stay in Dublin during the week? A few nights as a bartender wouldn’t have even covered the college fees.
In the distance, I see Pat dressed in his Sunday best. He’s leaning against the wall halfway down the church. He holds his cap with both hands in front of his chest. His eyes are cast to the floor.
I walk back to my seat where I kneel down and pray that Shay isn’t missing me.
Chapter Eighteen
It has taken forever to get out into the fresh air. The crowd crawled along to the tune of ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee’. I thought I’d never get to ring Amanda.
‘He’s fine, asleep, drank all his bottle, happy,’ she says.
My body relaxes and I tell Amanda I’ll be home soon.
‘Did you find anything out?’
‘No, nothing much, though there was one weird moment when Olive refused to shake hands with Conor’s friend Noel.’
‘Really? I wonder what’s going on there. See what you can find out. It could be important.’
* * *
The graveyard is attached to the church grounds and even though Vicky was born in the next village, where her mother and grandfather still live, her mother decided to bury her here in Ballycall Cemetery. I wonder why that is?
The grave is dug. The coffin sits on planks of wood ready to be lowered into the earth. Vicky Murphy is going home. Tears are welling up and I have to look away. This is so wrong. She had her whole life ahead of her.
Slipping towards the back of the crowd, I leave Conor’s side. I cannot watch this. Abbie is also standing at the back of the crowd, so I move over to her.
‘I hate this bit,’ I whisper.
‘Me too. It’s so sad, such a waste of life.’
A lone piper plays some tune I don’t recognise and the coffin is lowered. I can’t see it, but I can hear the volume of sorrow rising. Abbie holds my arm as we both lower our heads.
* * *
The sky is darkened by threatening clouds. The first drop of rain lands on my cheek. The service is over. Everyone is making their way to Hedigan’s Pub, to drink and chat and – as the priest put