news to her later but Conor makes it sound like a good thing. Maybe Maggie won’t have a problem with it.
Wrong.
‘But I thought you were going to use your own christening gown, Conor. The one that your father picked out for you. I have it here with me.’
I turn away from them, taking longer than necessary to tuck Shay into the crib. I’m leaving this one to Conor.
Maggie searches through one of the bags she carried in, and removes a parcel wrapped in tissue. ‘I even had it cleaned. Look.’
I take a peek to the left and watch her holding up the gown to Conor. I can’t see it – she has her back to me – but I can see Conor. He looks trapped. What will he do?
He sighs, putting the last slice of pizza back on the plate. ‘I don’t know. Does it really matter?’ he says. His hand brushes through his hair, his face reddens. Conor is under enough stress at the moment. I should not be adding to it.
‘Of course it matters,’ Maggie says, with no sympathy for her indecisive son. As she turns to hold out the gown for me to see, I glance at Conor and my heart tugs at his helpless expression. This is for you, Conor.
‘It’s beautiful, Maggie.’ I say. ‘We would love to put Shay in Conor’s gown, especially as his grandad chose it.’
I know the chances of any man picking out a christening gown thirty years ago is slim to none. But the gown is actually beautiful. And Conor looks relieved.
I wink at him and he winks back, filling my heart with a reminder that we are one, together on this journey. We have each other’s back. I know if I’d put up a fight with Maggie, Conor would have sided with me. I have no doubt about that. But not all games are won by lifting trophies. By appearing weaker, I made us stronger. And Maggie doesn’t even realise she lost that one.
* * *
After Maggie has updated us about all the wonderful things she has in motion for the big day, Conor makes his excuses and heads to his office down the hall. This is my chance.
‘Will you have a quick cuppa before you go?’ I say.
Maggie looks at her watch and hums as if she’s doing me a favour. She’s one of those people who like to give the impression their life is full, that they never have a spare minute. Always something going on.
‘Okay,’ she says.
When the tea is poured, I sit opposite Maggie and watch her excited face. Is it possible this woman is capable of hiring someone to check me out? If so, maybe it has nothing to do with wanting to know about my mother. Conor has money, a lot of it. Maybe she wanted to make sure the business was safe, that I wasn’t some gold-digger in it for a short while, screwing her husband for all he’s worth in the divorce court. It’s possible, and I can’t exactly say I blame her – after all, she didn’t know me. But I want to hear her admit it and I want to know what she found out.
‘Maggie,’ I say, two hands cradling my cup. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
‘Sure, ask away.’ Maggie perks up, her old eyes widening in anticipation.
‘You know I was in Dublin today.’
Maggie nods.
‘Well, I heard something, something that disturbed me.’
‘What?’ Maggie slowly sips her tea, her eyes focused on me.
‘Vicky Murphy.’
I let the name hang in the air to see if I can detect a reaction. Nothing. Maggie is still eager to listen.
‘Apparently, she called in to my old company, Imanage. She was asking about me, a few weeks before the wedding.’
Maggie pulls her head back a bit. ‘Vicky Murphy, the dead girl?’ she says, looking confused.
‘Yes.’
‘Why was she asking about you?’
Either Maggie is a great actress or she knows nothing.
‘Well that’s the thing… I was wondering if you had any idea?’
Maggie huffs, raising her head in the air like a peacock. ‘If I have any idea?’
‘Yes.’ I’m staring at her.
‘And why, my dear, would you think I’d know anything about that?’
‘Because I saw you one day in the graveyard, handing her an envelope and I thought you must know her well, maybe she told you something.’
Her lips are pursed now, her head nodding.
Now she’s sighing, shaking her head from side to side. My heart is in my mouth, I’m trying my best to act nonchalantly, while