Of course, I don’t blame myself for not figuring out the reason Conor was leaving the house in the middle of the night. It would be impossible to grow that scenario with no seeds. Beer smuggling. I didn’t even know it existed. So, like good old-fashioned insecure Laura, I panicked and thought the worst. Amanda will not be surprised. She might be proud of my actions though – taking Shay and running when I thought Conor could be lying about Vicky. Especially with Vicky dead.
The phone rings out, which surprises me. I thought Amanda was eager to hear from me. She must be holding a conference.
Relaxing on the sofa, browsing social media, I hear footsteps slowly dragging across the gravel. It’s Pat. I huddle down into the sofa hoping he’s not planning to call in here. Suddenly, I’m nervous. What if he does knock? Will I answer? I huddle further into the sofa, attempting to disappear from view. The footsteps fade past the house. Pat must be going down to the village. I hope he’s not calling to the police station with more demented nonsense.
A few minutes later my phone buzzes. I have a message. Amanda.
Sorry I missed your call. Finishing up a presentation. Then I’m free so I’ll be down, put the kettle on.
Well that’s nice. Amanda cares a lot about me. Sometimes I feel I give her nothing back but grief. I’ll have to change that. Be more supportive. Ask her what’s going on with her life, if there’s anything she needs me to do for her.
Shay whines in the corner of the room. He missed his bath yesterday, what with his mammy running away with him. Taking him in my arms, I hold him close to my chest against my heartbeat. It relaxes him.
‘Mammy’s going to make you an extra special bath today. I have a beautiful new ointment that your uncle Aidan and his very tall wife gave you.’
The pile of gifts is still sitting where I left them on a side table. I haven’t put them away yet. I look and find the special bottle of ointment that Aidan’s wife went on and on about. ‘Just two drops in his bath,’ she said, making sure I knew how precious it was. I don’t know what its claim to fame is because she rambled on so much I’d zoned out of the conversation.
‘Here we go, Shay.’ I take the bottle, along with Shay, to the bathroom where I fill the baby bath with lukewarm water and two drops of magic. My hand gently glides the water over Shay’s belly. He pouts and puffs with excitement. Shay loves the bath. Maybe he’ll be a swimmer instead of the footballer Daddy wants. I don’t care as long as he’s happy.
When Shay is resting in the middle of the bed, wrapped snuggly in a fluffy towel, I raid his wardrobe for clothes to put him in before he falls asleep. Waking him up is not a good idea. I find what I want to dress my little angel in and holding him close to me, I inhale his freshness. God, he smells like innocence.
I’m about to leave the room when I notice the USB stick on my bedside locker. I grab it and take Shay down to his crib. He’ll probably sleep for hours after his bath.
After Shay has dozed off, I plug the USB into my laptop and click on the file. A few files appear on the screen. I click on the first one named ‘Photos’ and the screen flashes but the file won’t open. Clicking on the second file… it opens. I click on one of the folders and see a draft. A newspaper report. Written by Vicky Murphy.
My heart sinks. What is this? And what the hell is Amanda doing with it?
Chapter Fifty-Nine
‘What’s wrong?’ Amanda walks through the door, immediately sensing my fear.
I don’t know what to say so I nod at her to follow me and walk her to the laptop on the table. I point. It’s all I can do. Point.
‘What’s that you’re showing me?’ she says, pulling a stool closer and sitting in front of the screen. ‘Am I supposed to know what it is?’ She squints her eyes because Amanda refuses to wear glasses. She thinks they age her so she’d rather go blind.
‘Do you know what this is?’ I say, zooming in on Vicky Murphy’s name.