I waved him back into his seat.
‘You can never be early, only late.’ Something else I’d heard the day before.
I could see him smirking, his smile reached from ear to ear displaying a perfect set of teeth. He was probably wondering how much more of this shit he was going to be subjected to as the day progressed.
‘Are you here for the course too?’ he said.
Disappointed that he didn’t think my words of wisdom rendered me already qualified, I said, ‘No, facilitating.’
‘Oh.’ This seemed to cheer him. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.
‘Well, not facilitating as such, I’m assisting.’
‘Well aren’t we the lucky group?’ he said.
I smiled at him – maybe I shouldn’t have, but compliments and I had become such distant friends I was delighted to get reacquainted.
‘Did your boss send you?’ I said.
‘Well, I kinda wanted to come.’
I wanted to say, are you mad? You volunteered for this? But I didn’t – I didn’t think Pete would appreciate his staff undermining his years of hard bullshit.
‘Oh, why is that?’ I smiled at him.
The guy laughed, stood up from his chair and walked over to the water station just as I got there. He poured some water from one of the jugs and offered it to me. I took it. Then he poured himself one.
‘Just want to stay on top, find out what’s new; you don’t always know what the latest trends are when you’re living outside the capital.’
I took one look at his suit. ‘Oh, I’d say you’re doing okay.’ Then I walked away with my glass of water.
It was the best motivational class ever. I was motivated by greed, lust and possibly even love. Once or twice I caught him glancing my way, and anytime I had to hand him some literature he kept the paper longer in his grip before taking it from me than he had to, smiling up at me, flirting.
When the end of the session arrived I could sense him standing behind me. By now I knew his name was Conor because everyone had introduced themselves and their line of business. The guy worked in a brewery. At first I thought it was one of those new craft breweries popping up all over the place but no, Callbrew was an old, famous brand. The guy of my dreams could even get free booze.
I didn’t expect any further contact from him, assuming that he already had a beautiful girlfriend – or many of them – and that his interest in me was just a distraction from the boredom of the classroom. But nothing could stop me dreaming.
The following day, I was reassigned to my proper station back at reception, the sick people returned and I was back where I belonged. Answering the phone. I’d kicked off the shoes below my desk and was resigned to wearing the navy suit when I answered the call. It was him; I recognised the lilt in his voice. Was he ringing to book another session? Or to complain about the last one, maybe? No. He was asking if he could speak to me, Laura, the girl from the green room.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sun is beaming into the room when I hear Shay’s cry. It feels like twelve o’clock in Spain but it’s ten o’clock in Ballycall.
With Shay rocking on my shoulder, I walk to the landing window at the front of the house and look out at the day. Everything is so peaceful. Green, clean and without any human blight.
I yearn for human blight. Which is why I decided myself and Shay were going to get dressed and visit our friendly village. Being stuck in the house has made me lose my mind. I’m beginning to think unbelievable things. I lay in bed last night believing Conor could be a murderer, or be involved some way in what happened to Vicky. Which is ludicrous. I need to clear my head, distract myself and panic less. If there is something I should be concerned about, Conor will tell me. I’m sure. That’s what I want to believe. But how can I when he didn’t tell me what the detective wanted?
‘Mammy is going mad cooped up in this house, Shay.’ Searching through his wardrobe of tiny clothes, most of which will have to be donated before he even gets a chance to wear them, I find a snowy, grey, all-in-one padded romper suit.
‘This will be lovely on you. Perfect for our little adventure.’ I pull the tag