‘I was a bit surprised when you said you had never spoken to her.’ I can’t believe I’m finding the courage to confront Maggie like this.
‘When… when did I tell you that?’
‘The night you and Helen came in here after Vicky’s funeral.’
‘Oh, don’t mind what I say in front of Helen,’ she says, straightening herself on the stool.
‘But I thought you and Helen have been friends since you were children?’
‘We are and that’s how we’re still friends; I tell her nothing.’ Maggie puts her hand out and surprises me by placing it on top of mine. I think she’s trying to end the conversation but I can’t stop now.
‘So why were you meeting Vicky in the graveyard?’ I blurt out.
She lifts the cup to her lips as I squirm on the seat opposite her. Her eyes stare above the rim as she sips a little, then she stops to say, ‘Well now, that’s not really any of your business.’ The air stills between us. I’ve pushed too far. Maggie is not prepared to divulge the reason for her liaison with Vicky Murphy. Not even to her childhood friend, Helen. But why the secret? What is she hiding?
Chapter Forty
Well, that’s not quite how I expected that to go. I spend most of the night lying flat on my back looking up at the darkness, unable to complete a full hour’s sleep, worrying that I have opened a can of worms.
Conor is burning toast when I enter the kitchen with Shay in my arms. It was a lot easier to carry him when he was inside me.
‘Coffee?’ he says.
‘Yes please, I didn’t sleep a wink.’
‘Go back to bed when Shay goes down,’ he says, pouring water from the kettle.
‘I’ll try.’
Tucking Shay into the crib, I yawn.
‘Will you be okay?’ Conor asks.
‘Yeah, sure, I’ll be fine.’ Pulling my dressing gown tighter, I shuffle across in oversized slippers to the breakfast counter. Outside the window, a great blue sky paints a picture of peace and tranquillity. At the end of the garden, the forest looms. Pat is probably still in bed. But since the argument between him and Conor, I haven’t seen him at all. I hope he’s not dead back there.
‘Have you seen Pat since you had the argument with him?’ I say.
Conor crunches on his toast, muttering through a full mouth. ‘It wasn’t an argument.’
‘Well whatever you want to call it… have you seen him since?’
‘No, I haven’t. But don’t let that worry you.’ Conor butters a second slice of toast. ‘Pat is not a creature of habit.’
‘I know but still… I hope he’s okay.’
‘He’ll be okay.’
‘Did the police contact you yet?’
‘No, they’re probably busy trying to catch the real suspect, Laura.’
‘I know…’
Squashing the subject, Conor puts his jacket on. ‘I hope to be home early this evening. Mam has a list of things she wants me to look at before the christening.’
I hold back a sigh at the thought of another night of Maggie and christening preparations. The sooner Sunday comes and goes, and we can have some alone time again, the better. I love when it’s just the two of us – the three of us now. It also means I’d better make a decent dinner tonight. No more frozen pizzas or she’ll take her son back.
Conor is walking over to the crib when the doorbell rings. I’m lifting a slice of toast to my mouth. I stop. For some reason a sick feeling stirs in my stomach. Who could that be? Is it Fintan again? More bad news? Conor turns to look at me. I can tell he’s thinking the same. He walks out of the room without commenting. I follow him and wait at the kitchen door where I can see him. The shapes behind the glass send a shiver through my body. I’m on pause, unable to breathe until he answers that door. Conor turns to look at me.
‘Don’t panic Laura, it will be okay.’
Why is he saying that? Why does he think I’m going to panic? Conor must know why they’re here.
The two men step into the hallway and introduce themselves as Detective Owen Murray and Detective Michael Penny. They’re both taller than Conor by a few inches. The older one is wearing a suit but the younger guy is dressed in jeans and a casual jacket. I remember seeing them enter the café the other day. At the time it made me uncomfortable knowing why they were here