to Pat’s face. Shay is named after Conor’s father. Apparently he and Pat were the best of friends. Seamus allowed Pat to live in the small house on his land in return for odd jobs done about the place. It worked well for everyone until Seamus died. Pat was heartbroken; especially when Conor gutted the house and had it remodelled. Eventually Conor went to him, assured Pat nothing would change and that he was welcome to stay in the cottage for as long as he wanted. Over time, Pat settled back in and began doing odd jobs about the place like he had for Conor’s father. He’s not much of a talker but he’s never refused an invitation into the house before.
With his head bent, Pat walks closer to me. Then, removing his cap, he stares at Shay, then he cries and walks away. There’s nothing anyone can do or say because Pat is Pat.
* * *
Leaving for the office to drop the forms back that Olive needed signing, Conor asks if I’ll be okay on my own. He had taken the week off work to be here with me but with Shay arriving early not everything had been in place. Apparently taking time off work is unheard of for Conor and something I’m going to have to work on. I’m not spending my life waiting for him to come home from the office. Or begging him to go on holidays.
During our short engagement it never came up, because I was always pregnant. Airports without alcohol just didn’t appeal to me. But now I’m ready – well, I should be in a few weeks – and as soon as I think Shay can travel, or he’s old enough for Amanda to babysit him, I’m going to suggest we take a break away.
With Conor out and Shay sleeping in the crib, the house feels eerily quiet. I’m eager to ring Amanda but she won’t be home from work until after five and I don’t like bothering her during her busy working day. Out in the hallway, I notice two more cards have arrived with the post. I open them straight away. Like ripping off a plaster. It’s not that I’m expecting any more shocks, but I wasn’t expecting the first one either.
Thankfully, they are just regular congratulations, no malice attached. But it does make me think I should check the handwriting on the malicious card. Maybe it will match up with one of these.
The magazine is still sitting on the counter where I left it. The knot in my stomach grows as I reach my hand out. I’m nervous, I don’t want to read those words again, but I have to try and figure out who sent it. Lifting the magazine, I toss it to the side and grab the cards. Two cards. But there were three. Where is the other one? The one with the pink envelope. Grabbing the magazine, I shake it. Nothing. I shake it again. Nothing. Deep breath after deep breath – I try to calm the panic rushing through my body. I check the floor, the bin, the drawers, the presses, pulling and searching for the pink envelope, but I can’t find it. It’s gone. The card is gone.
Chapter Seven
What do I do now? Do I tell Conor about the card? Will he think I’ve gone mad? Will the hormones be brought into the dock? I’m certain I put it with the other cards underneath the magazine. Almost certain. Between pain and painkillers, I’m not sure if I can trust myself.
I didn’t dream it. Did I? No. I saw the card. I remember the fear. I can see the letters. Where the hell did I put it? I look around at the mess I’ve created. Every kitchen press is open including the drawers, and some of the contents are strewn across the floor. I check Shay is still sleeping then hurry to tidy it up.
Everything is back in place, except my heart which is still close to my mouth, when Conor returns. My mind is completely confused now.
‘Everything okay?’ I hear his voice behind me.
‘Yes, everything’s fine.’
‘Shay?’
‘Asleep.’
‘Grand, well I’m going to make both of us a nice lunch. Mam left some ham and salad stuff in the fridge.’
I keep my eyes firmly focused on the magazine I’m pretending to read. ‘Lovely, I’m starving,’ I say.
Conor places a plate of food in front of me on the breakfast bar. In the corner, Shay lies in his crib.