‘Jesus, Laura, where is this coming from? Left to meet who?’
‘Vicky Murphy.’
‘Vicky Murphy?’
‘Yes. It makes sense now; you’re the one she was having the affair with. That’s why you wanted to shut your mother up that night. You couldn’t stand her gossiping because you knew you were the gossip.’
‘Laura, first of all, relax. You sound like you’re going to burst. Is Shay okay? Where is he now?’
‘Shay is fine, Conor. He’s asleep.’
‘Okay Laura, I’m on my way. Stay where you are. I will tell you exactly what is going on and it has nothing to do with Vicky Murphy.’ Conor hangs up and I sit on the sofa, phone in hand, heart in mouth. Tears are soaking my face. I grab a tissue out of the fancy glass box sitting on the side table. I switch on the lamp because the room has gone dark and I’m only noticing now. Lifting the phone, I take one last glance at the picture of Conor and Shay on the screen. My body is numb. I don’t know what I’m going to hear but I’m pretty sure whatever he’s about to tell me, I probably deserve it.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Amanda hasn’t arrived home yet. At this stage I’m hoping Conor gets here first, so I text her not to hurry away from her function, that I’m fine now, I’ll see her later.
Placing the throw back where it belongs, I walk with the basket to the bathroom and replace the towels. There’s a collage of photos on the wall in the small hallway facing the bathroom door. Moving closer, I look at myself as a three-year-old, a seven-year-old, a fifteen-year-old. Amanda is at my side in them all. There’s one with my mother. She’s holding both our hands. Me in a red coat, Amanda in a blue one. It was taken on O’Connell Street. Mam looks happy in it and so young; I forget how young she was when dad died. It must have been hard for her. Amanda is still in contact with her. I don’t ask how much or what’s going on anymore. We agreed that was best. Amanda suggested I wouldn’t be able to shift the pain if I didn’t shift its source. Which was right at the time, but now, since finding happiness, I think about her a lot.
Lifting my hand towards the photo, I caress mam’s face with my finger. I’m sorry Mam. I don’t think I ever said sorry to her at the time. Maybe I did. It’s all such a blur now. I don’t know.
To my left, Amanda’s bedroom door is ajar. I take a deep breath and move away from the photo. Maybe I should put on some makeup before Conor arrives. He doesn’t need to see this face. Amanda won’t mind if I use hers.
When I eventually find the light switch I go into her room to a small mirrored dressing table against the wall. The room is tiny compared to my bedroom. It could probably fit into my walk-in wardrobe. But it’s cosy and full of beautiful things.
I sit down on the little stool at the dressing table and look at the makeup. Foundation, great, I’ll have some of that. My face is stinging from the ordeal so I search for some moisturiser which is not on the dresser so I open the drawer. My hand is rummaging around when I realise I’m touching an envelope. I pull the drawer out further and lift the envelope in my hand. I know it’s none of my business but curiosity has always been a weakness of mine. Amanda says I’m just pure nosy. She might be right.
There are a few sheets of A4 pages inside which I pull out. It all looks very official. I read the words printed at the top of the page and my heart stops. What the fuck? Why has Amanda got this in her dresser?
The doorbell buzzes. It must be Conor because Amanda has a key. I take the envelope with me and switch off the bedroom light.
The baby bag is sitting in the middle of the table so I shove the envelope into it. I don’t want her having that here, anyone could find it. It should be locked away somewhere. With me. Or better still, burnt.
Conor is standing in front of me when I open the door. He’s white as a ghost. Immediately he puts his arms around me and hugs me tightly. Tears, more