This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, businesses, organisations and incidents portrayed in it are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published 2024 by Crimson an imprint of Poolbeg Press Ltd.

123 Grange Hill, Baldoyle, Dublin 13, Ireland

Email: poolbeg@poolbeg.com

© Florence Gillan 2024

The moral right of the author has been asserted. © Poolbeg Press Ltd. 2024, copyright for editing, typesetting, layout, design, ebook and cover image.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978178199-520-4

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Dedication

To my children, Rachel, David, Mark and Sarah

Prologue

When the call came from O’Flaherty’s, she cancelled her plans. The package was waiting in reception. She paid her bill and shook hands with the man at the front desk. She placed the neatly wrapped package on the passenger seat of her car. On the long drive home, she planned how to dispose of its contents and smiled grimly. She had been looking forward to this moment for a long time.

When she finally unlocked her front door, her sense of anticipation heightened. But all pleasures are intensified by delay, so she poured herself a large glass of wine and then took the package upstairs. She smiled as she entered the bathroom. She lifted the toilet lid and wondered how many flushes it would take. Carefully, she removed the box from its wrapping and admired the tasteful images of ferns and autumnal flora. Opening it, she carefully tipped some contents into the toilet bowl. They landed with a discreet splash, but some ash adhered to the bowl. The first flush was satisfying, and she watched as the wet ash began to disappear, but heavier clumps sat stubbornly in the bowl. She used the toilet brush to whisk them up and flushed them again. It took a surprisingly long time and numerous flushes but, eventually, the box was empty, as was her wine glass.

‘Rest in shit!’ she whispered as she pulled the handle for the final time.

PART 1

Chapter 1

Sligo 2010

She couldn’t evade him. Wherever she turned, he appeared looming out of the darkness, or she sensed his presence behind her, causing her nerve-endings to jangle unbearably. Everywhere she ran, his smirking face confronted her.

‘You can’t escape me, Eimear. You’re mine, and you’ll always be mine. Don’t fight it, my love. You know we’re meant to be together.’

On and on she raced, screaming. Then, just ahead of her, she saw her mother. She ran towards her eagerly and flung herself into her arms. Her mother’s warm embrace and soothing voice comforted her, and the terror eased. It was going to be alright now.

Then, the arms around her increased their grip, painfully so, and she struggled to free herself.

‘Mam, let me go! You’re hurting me!’

She pushed her mother away from her and stared up into Donal's empty eyes. She screamed so loudly that her ears hurt. Desperate to escape, she raced down endless corridors, pursued by him. All the while, her screams echoed and bounced off the walls.

Then the sounds changed, grew more insistent and sharp, and she was pulled out of the dream and sat up, her body coated in sweat and her heart thumping painfully. It’s only a dream, she reassured herself. Everything is OK.

Then she heard it clearly, the ringing of the doorbell.

She turned on the bedside light and looked at her phone. It was three in the morning. Again, the insistent blaring of her doorbell. Who could be at the door at this time? She had left her friends in the pub at midnight, telling them she was shattered and ready to collapse into bed. Her mother was spending the night with Meg. Could she have come home after all? Lost her key? 

She pulled on her dressing gown and slippers and hurried downstairs. She hesitated, afraid to open the door at such an hour. The doorbell rang again. It sounded like a finger was pressed hard against it. Urgent.

She called out, ‘Who’s there?’

‘Eimear, it’s me, Alec. Look, I need to talk to you.’

With trembling hands and a pounding heart, she unlocked the door and opened it, to reveal Alec and another Garda standing on the front doorstep.

‘What is it, Alec? What’s wrong?’

Her friend Alec, in his Garda uniform, looked deadly serious.

’We’d better go inside, Eimear.’

His serious tone and sympathetic look frightened her, but she led him into the kitchen, which still retained a faint remembrance of warmth.

Alec couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

‘You’re scaring me. Why are you here?’

He didn’t speak, but his eyes looked at her with compassion. She felt her legs dissolve into jelly and she clutched the worn kitchen table for support.

‘It’s Mam, isn’t it?’ she whispered through lips that suddenly seemed incapable of forming the shapes required for speech.

He led her to a chair and sat beside her.

‘Eimear, there’s been a car accident just outside town. Your mam’s car went off the road and crashed into a wall. I’m very sorry to have to tell you that your mother died at the scene and your Aunt Meg is in hospital.’

She stared at him stupidly, her mouth opening and closing.

The female Garda stood on the other side of her and tried to take her hand.

Eimear snatched it away.

‘You’ve made a mistake, Alec. She drove Meg home hours ago – she’d been meeting friends in Doran’s pub, and I was there too. She told me she’d stay the night with Meg. She must be there now.’

He took her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, love, but it’s true. I was at the scene.’

Eimear clung to his hand, but her mind couldn’t process his words. She pulled away and jumped to her feet. In a strange disembodied voice, she said, ‘But it can’t be true. She planned to help me paint my bedroom. We even bought the paint.’

A rational part of her brain realised the pointlessness of fixing on the task she and her mam had planned to undertake. But it seemed imperative to explain to Alec that her mam couldn’t be dead because they’d planned to paint a bedroom.

Alec said nothing but made her take a seat again and sat beside her silently. He listened patiently as she asked the same questions over and over, trying to make sense of the devastating news that her mother was no longer part of her universe. Then the tears came and Alec squeezed her shoulder, offering warmth and something solid to cling to now that her world had shattered into pieces.

She was vaguely aware of the other guard moving around the kitchen, and she heard the clink of dishes and the purring of the kettle, normal sounds that seemed out of place, almost profane. The woman returned as she slumped at the kitchen table, and a cup of tea was pressed into her hands.

Eimear gulped some down, glad of the familiar comfort.

Then she burst into a frenzy of words. ‘We need to go now, I want to see her, where have they taken her?’

‘Easy, Eimear. There’s no point in rushing to the hospital. Wait until morning. They took her straight to Sligo General.’

‘But, Alec, I don’t want her to be alone. I want to be with her.’ Her sense of urgency propelled her to her feet. ‘I need to get dressed. Come on, Alec, we have to go.’

‘Eimear, sit down. You don’t understand. They won’t let you see her tonight. It will be a wasted journey. But I promise you that we’ll go early in the morning.’

Then she remembered. ‘You said Meg was with her. Is she badly hurt?’

‘She was semi-conscious when she was found. The paramedics checked her out, and thought she had escaped with minor injuries. Your mother’s side of the car took the brunt of the impact. Of course there’s the possibility of concussion and the doctors won’t want her to be disturbed. But she’ll need you in the morning when she wakes.’

Suddenly, the urgency and energy evaporated, and Alec held her as she sobbed like a child. ‘I’ll call Jen and ask her to stay with you,’ he said.

‘No!’

Alec and the other Garda started at the violence of her tone.

‘Come on, Eimear, you can’t be alone tonight, and Jen is your best friend.’

‘She was my best friend,’ Eimear said, her voice flat.

‘Eimear, I know you had a falling-out, but she would want to be with you now. And she was very fond of your mother.’

‘No, I don’t want her. But I’ll call Lana and she’ll keep me company.’

Alec sighed. ‘You promise?’

‘Yes, I promise.’

‘OK, Eimear, I must go, but I’ll leave Garda Peters here until Lana arrives.’

The Garda at his side nodded and smiled brightly. ‘I’ll be happy to sit with you, Eimear.’

Eimear shook her head. ‘Please, you’re very kind but I think I’d like some time on my own.’

‘Are you sure, Eimear?’ Alec said.

‘Yes. I am.’

‘OK so,’ he said. ‘Look, how about I meet you at the hospital at nine tomorrow? Lana can drive you in.’

Eimear nodded and, reluctantly, Alec and his partner left.

She waited until she heard the door slam shut, then allowed hot tears to course down her cheeks in stinging streaks.

There were people she should ring, friends of her mam who would want to know. But there was no point in disturbing anyone this early. Besides, she needed to see her mother before finally accepting she was gone.

At eight, she showered and dressed and drove to the hospital. Alec was in the hospital foyer waiting for her.

‘Did you contact Lana?’ he asked.

‘No. There was no point in disturbing her in the middle of the night. Can I see Mam now?’

Alec led the way down long corridors, and Eimear was reminded of her dream. There was horror at the end of this corridor, too.

A pleasant woman in a white coat greeted her and took her into a room where her mam’s shrouded body lay. Her face looked cold and remote, not like her mam at all. All that had been her had long departed. Her warm liveliness, quick smile and deep chuckle were no more. All that remained was this stiff, cold container of her spirit. Eimear shuddered, reluctant to touch the body but feeling that somehow it was expected of her. Briefly, her fingers stroked the waxy cheek, but its chill stung her fingers. She recoiled and turned to leave.

Outside the room, Alec was waiting, his pale face creased with concern. He started to speak, but she forestalled him.

‘What happened? Was there another car?’

‘No, Eimear. We have to make our investigations but it seems your mam may have been going too fast and lost control of the car. It was on a stretch of road with sharp bends. Meg might be able to tell us more when we speak to her later today.’

‘I’d like to see Meg now.’

‘I’ll see what I can do. She might still be asleep.’

‘Does she know that Mam has died?’

‘I don’t think so. She was only semi-conscious at the scene, and the hospital staff won’t have told her.’

They walked to the reception and asked for Meg Curran’s whereabouts. They were given directions to Female Medical.

Again, Alec took the lead and explained the circumstances to the nurse at the ward's reception. The nurse bustled off to find out about Meg.

A few minutes later, Eimear was looking down at her aunt’s sleeping face.

‘Do you want me to stay and tell her, Eimear?’

‘No, I’ll tell her. Thanks, Alec. I’ll be fine now, really I will.’

‘Promise you’ll call me if you need anything.’

Eimear nodded.

Barely aware that Alec had left, she sat by the bed and stared at her aunt. Meg lay under the starched sheets, her eyes closed and her forehead marred by livid bruising. Eimear winced as she gazed at her. She looked so young and fragile – much younger than her forty years. But, as she looked at her lying there, she was suddenly consumed by rage. Why hadn’t Meg died instead of her lovely mother? It wasn’t fair! She needed her mam.

Instantly, she felt ashamed. Meg loved her and had always been especially good to her. The age gap between them wasn’t big – thirteen years – and all through her childhood and teenage years Meg had been her confidante, the fun grown-up she could confide in without all the usual lectures that an adult insisted on delivering.

Meg would be devastated by the death of her sister. Like all siblings, they bickered sometimes and occasionally fell out, but they were family and always there for each other.

As if hearing her thoughts, Meg opened her eyes. She smiled at Eimear, puzzled. ‘Why are you here, pet?’

Then Eimear watched as awareness of her surroundings and memories of the night returned. Her face turned pink and then white. She tried to sit up and groaned with the effort. Falling back on her pillow, she turned alarmed eyes towards Eimear.

‘The crash, we were in a crash. Is – is Claire OK?’

Eimear froze, unable to form the sentence that would turn Meg’s fear into a horrible certainty.

‘Tell me what happened, Eimear … please … please …’

‘I’m sorry, Meg. She didn’t … she’s gone,’ Eimear whispered through numb lips.

Meg stared up and her small, round face crumpled, her blue eyes swam with tears.

‘Oh, God, no, please no!’

Eimear grasped her hand and sobbed out, ‘She’s dead, Meg!’

Meg grimaced, and then she cried in loud, guttural bursts of pain.

Eimear sat on the side of the bed and they embraced.

‘I wish it had been me, Eimear! It should have been me! It’s not fair!’

Eimear said nothing. She just held her.

Later, when Meg had calmed down, a nurse came in with tea and biscuits and left them on the tray table at the end of the bed.

Eimear rose to pull the tray table towards her aunt and sat on the bedside chair again.

‘Can you bear to tell me what happened, Meg? Alec thinks she was driving too fast and misjudged the road.’

Meg took a sip of tea and sighed. ‘It’s all a blur but, Eimear, you know your mam – she was like a young one when she got behind the wheel of that bloody sports car. Your father bought it for her, and she wouldn’t hear of it being sold despite its age. She said it reminded her of him,’ Meg smiled sadly, ‘but, really, she loved the way it made her feel – young and free. She’d have the top down in all weathers and she always drove it fast. And Alec is right. It’s such a dangerous stretch of road, full of sharp bends, and all I remember is her swerving and the sound of crashing, and then everything is hazy.’ Meg bowed her head, and the tears slid silently down her face. Then she clutched Eimear’s hand. ‘It was my fault. She was taking me home. If it weren’t for me, she’d be alive now.’

‘Meg, stop that. Of course it’s not your fault. Mam would be furious with you for that kind of talk. She had the accident because she was driving too fast. At least she didn’t harm anyone. Thank God for that. So please, no more talk of blame. Now, you need to get well. I’m going to find out when you can leave here.’

Meg nodded, and Eimear went to find a doctor. When she returned, she had some good news.

‘Right, they X-rayed you last night, and you have no broken bones. They are also satisfied that you aren’t suffering from concussion. So, hopefully, I can take you home after the doctor does his morning rounds. But you need to take it easy. You’re bound to be stiff and sore for a while.’

Later that morning, Eimear collected Meg from the hospital and insisted on taking her back to Claire’s house to recuperate. After getting Meg settled on the couch, she started the round of phone calls. Claire didn’t have any close relatives – her parents were dead, and Meg was her only sibling. But she did have a few cousins. It was brutal having to break the news of her death, but her mother’s closest friend, Nuala, offered to let everyone know. It was a relief for Eimear not to have to break the news to anyone else. Dealing with the shock and pain of others was more than she felt able to bear.

In the afternoon, the hospital rang. Claire’s body would be released the following morning. Eimear rang the undertaker’s and asked him to collect the body and bring it to the house for waking. The undertaker later called to the house and helped them compose a piece to put in the papers and on the online website, detailing the funeral arrangements. He would bring the remains to the house the following evening.

Chapter 2

The phone rang nonstop, but they managed to persuade friends and family to leave them in peace until the next day when Claire’s remains would come home. The business of death, although painful, had the advantage of keeping them occupied. The suddenness of Claire’s death and the manner of it had so many ramifications. Two Gardaí called to the house and took Meg’s statement. They issued formal words of condolence. They were nice but baldly stated that Claire was driving too fast for the road conditions. This led to her swerving at a bend, veering across the road and slamming into a wall.

Eimear felt a burn of anger that her mother’s irresponsible driving had robbed them of her. That bloody little sports car offered little protection. If she had been driving her Audi, she might have had some chance of survival.

Tiredness caught up with them eventually, and Meg suggested going to bed.

‘It’s no good, Meg. I won’t sleep.’

‘I know you won’t, love, neither will I, but we can cuddle up in the bed and comfort each other until morning, and at least we’ll be warm.’

Eimear nodded, relieved not to be left alone.

The long night passed, accompanied by tears and whispered words of comfort. When sleep came, her dreams were filled with dark shadows.

It was a relief to be awakened by the daylight seeping into the room. For a moment, she felt puzzled by the presence of Meg. Then it all came back … the accident and the terrible crippling loss. The brutal ache in the pit of her stomach caused her to cry out.

Meg woke instantly, and they clung to each other.

‘Oh God, this is so awful!’ Meg whispered.

‘I know. Mam loved you so much. She thought the world of you.’

‘It’s so hard to believe she’s gone.’ Meg got out of bed and stood staring blankly at the window.

‘Why did she have to be so irresponsible?’ Eimear said. ‘She wasn’t a boy racer—she was a middle-aged woman in her fifties. Why couldn’t she act like one?’

Meg shook her head, and they both dressed without speaking.

Eventually, the grim realities of the coming days propelled them into action. They cleaned the house and ordered sandwiches and scones from the deli and bakery. They discussed where to put the coffin. The idea of people tramping through her mam’s bedroom sickened Eimear. It had been her sanctuary. In the end, they decided to put the coffin in the big room at the back of the house, which her gran used to call the drawing room.

Eimear checked the room was presentable and opened the heavy curtains that screened the French windows. As she looked out at her mother’s garden she thought how it would have pleased her to see it in full bloom.

She wondered if any family members would turn up at the funeral. There were so few. She felt her loneliness keenly.

Meg joined her.

‘You look as though you’re trying to solve a puzzle,’ she said.

‘I was just realising how few relatives I have – just elderly relatives of Dad’s and a few middle-aged cousins I never see. I suppose Gran’s sister Agnes will want to attend the funeral. She and Gran never got on. I don’t think Gran even visited her when she went into the Home. But didn’t she come to Gran’s funeral Mass?’

‘Of course she did. She’s old school and, even though they hadn’t spoken for ten years, she still felt it her duty to attend the funeral. Horrible old bitch!’

Eimear glanced around at all the signs of her mam’s presence, like the book lying face down on the window seat. She could even see the faint indentation of her mother's body on the soft cushions resting there as though awaiting her return. She thought about plumping them up but couldn’t. It would feel like she was erasing her mother from this home that she had filled with love.

They heard the sound of tyres on gravel. It was the undertaker.

Meg patted her shoulder. ‘Ready?’ she asked.

Eimear nodded, and they opened the door.

The next day passed in a blur of people, handshakes, endless sandwiches and awkward embraces. The house was filled to the brim with all the people who loved Claire and the family and friends of Meg and Eimear.

Eimear’s friends shuffled in awkwardly, uncertain how to be around her. She had lost touch with many of them while going out with Donal. She couldn’t put all that on Donal. She had been happy to let friendships slide and then, after she broke off the engagement, it seemed hypocritical to seek their comfort and her pride refused to let her. But they had shown up then and now, and she was grateful.

Jen came too, and they just nodded to each other – too many sharp words had been said on both sides, and there were divided loyalties. Jen was Donal’s sister and her best friend. When her engagement ended, her friendship with Jen also ended.

The day of the funeral was cloaked in clouds, and the rain mizzled down, making the mourners damp and despairing.

Eimear grasped her aunt's hand. Meg squeezed her fingers and the two women watched as the first sods of clay were symbolically thrown on the coffin. Gulping back tears, they waited as the procession of people grasped their hands and offered words of commiseration.

The day seemed interminable, and she was relieved when she was finally ensconced in Meg’s car.

‘I need to go home, Eimear. Do you want to stay with me, or will I drop you back at your place?’

The thought of being on her own felt unbearable – the emptiness too achingly awful to bear. ‘Yes, I’ll stay over with you. Is that OK?’

‘Of course, pet. I’ll be glad of the company.’

They didn’t talk on the short trip to the house where Meg and her mother had grown up. Eimear’s grandmother, Della, had left it to Claire and Meg when she died but Claire, of course, had her own house – the house she had inherited after the death of her husband.

Della’s house was a two-storey manor building, its walls gripped by ivy, and the windows peered down at them like friendly eyes. Eimear had always loved the house. It was a welcoming place, especially when her grandmother was alive. When she visited as a child, Della made it such fun, organising trips to the cinema and rides at the local stables. Della was known locally as ‘the doctor’s wife’. Even though he was long dead, she retained the title in perpetuity. Not that she wasn’t a force to be reckoned with in her own right. She was a stalwart of the local church, belonged to the Vincent de Paul and was active in the choral society.

Everything looked the same. Meg had made no changes to the old-fashioned décor, at least not yet.

The house was warm. The old AGA still did its best, and the kitchen was cosy and welcoming.

‘I could do with a drink – will I pour you something?’

‘I’d love a glass of wine. But only if you have a bottle open – just a small glass.’

They sat sipping their drinks and talking about the people who had come to the funeral. It felt strange to Eimear to talk about a funeral as though it were the afters of a party. But that’s what it was – a party for someone who couldn’t be there except in spirit, if you believed in that sort of thing.

‘You look miles away, Eimear. What are you thinking about?’

‘Nothing much. I suppose it feels so final. Nothing will ever be the same, and oh Meg, I feel so lost without her!’

‘Aww, love, so do I, but we’ve got each other, and you know you can always count on me.’

‘Thanks, Meg. I know.’ She had always been able to count on Meg. ‘Do you remember how Mam used to be ripping when I always put your opinion on clothes and boys over hers?’

Meg grinned. ‘Even though that led to some questionable fashion choices. Do you remember when you dyed your hair orange? I can still see the look on your mother and Gran’s faces. Of course, they blamed me, your favourite aunt!’

‘Well, you hadn’t too much competition in the favourite-aunt stakes, seeing as mam only had one sister and Dad’s sisters were ancient and smelled of mothballs.’

They smiled reminiscently and then, at Meg’s suggestion, they pored over the family photograph album. Eimear pointed to a photograph of her mother on her wedding day. She looked beautiful and, even though her father was fine-looking, her mother dazzled from the picture with Hollywood glamour.

‘Your mother always looked lovely, but never more so than when she married your father. Even though I was only ten, she made me her bridesmaid. Your gran wasn’t pleased because she thought I was too young for the honour. But Claire insisted that she wanted me for the job and only me. She made such a fuss of me that day. She spent longer getting me all dolled up than she spent on herself. I was such a brat, I thought it was all about me.’

‘I don’t know why I’ve never asked you before – but, did Gran mind about Dad being so much older than Mam?’

‘I think she did at first, but she could see that he was devoted to your mother and could give her a good life and financial security. Your gran knew all about worrying about money after our father died.’

‘It was sad they didn’t have much time together before Dad had the heart attack. Mam was heartbroken – we both were.’

‘You poor pet, I was that sorry for you. You were so young, and I wasn’t much use to either of you. I’d just started in the hotel, and they had me working night shifts, so I hardly saw you.’

‘I’m sure that Mam understood, and Gran was great – she practically lived with us for months. I think being widowed young herself, she understood how Mam felt. But it seems like our family has had so much loss. It sounds pathetic as I’m an adult, but I’m an orphan now. I keep forgetting you are, too.’

Meg smiled. ‘The idea of being an orphan suggests poor little children out in the snow, all alone and lost. Well, we are neither poor nor alone – nor in the snow! We have each other and never forget that I’m at the other end of the phone – call me, and I’ll be there. Speaking of which, I’m going to cancel my Europe trip.’

‘What? No way, Meg, I’m not a baby! If you cancel on account of me, I’ll be furious. You’ve been looking forward to it for ages.’

‘That’s as may be, but I think now isn’t a great time to be heading off. I can go any time I like.’

‘Right, if you cancel your trip that’s us finished, Meg! I’ll be mortified. You’re going, and that’s it!’ Eimear glared at her aunt.

Meg threw up her hands, ‘OK, OK, you win! I’ll go. You’re a fierce young one. But to tell the truth, I’ve lost my excitement for the trip. It all seems a bit pointless. I can’t seem to work up any enthusiasm for it.’

‘God, I keep forgetting you were involved in a serious accident. Apart from the pain of losing Mam, you have to cope with the after-effects of the crash. How are you feeling, Meg?’

Meg absentmindedly twisted the Claddagh ring on her finger. ‘I’m fine. Just a few aches and pains. I was lucky to have got off relatively unscathed, but you’re right. The crash has left me feeling very vulnerable. A reminder that I’m not invincible.’

‘Look, you don’t have to decide anything now. Just keep an open mind, and we’ll talk about it again.’

‘Thanks, love. I’ll likely go, but I just don’t feel up to making any decisions now.’

Eimear squeezed Meg’s hand. ‘You know what, Meg, I think I could do with a change myself. I’ve been thinking for a while now about moving away. It’s not just Mam dying, it’s everything.’

‘I never heard you talk of leaving before now. Is it because of Donal?’

‘Yes, Donal is part of the reason, but I’ve been getting fed up with work for a long time. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in some back office doing wills and conveyancing. I’m so bored sometimes that I could scream.’

‘I understand – and you could get a job anywhere with your qualifications – but perhaps now isn’t the right time to move. I mean, right after your mam dying. This isn’t the time to make changes.’

‘You may be right, but I’m just so fed up. Maybe a change is what’s needed. I’d love to live somewhere different, to make a fresh start and shake myself up. It mightn’t be the wisest choice, but I feel like a change.’

‘Eimear, perhaps the shock is influencing you. The crash was a freak accident that suddenly took Claire from us. I think you shouldn’t rush into anything too soon – promise me you won’t.’

‘Don’t worry – I’m not going to rush into anything just yet. Besides, solicitor jobs are scarce at the moment. This recession has hit hard.’

The harsh ring of the doorbell interrupted their discussion.

‘God, it’s very late. Who could that be?’ Meg said.

She went to answer the door.

Eimear was surprised to hear raised voices. Meg sounded like she was having a full-on argument with a man. She jumped up and hurried out to see if she needed help.

Meg was standing in the porch. She was trying to prevent a tall man from entering the house.

Eimear’s heart jolted with the shock of recognition. Donal Carty, all six feet two of him, stood in the doorway. Her limbs refused to move, and she was forced to stand helplessly as he pushed past Meg.

‘I’m calling the guards if you don’t leave immediately!’ Meg shouted at him.

Still, Eimear couldn’t move. He stood in front of her and tentatively touched her arm.

‘Eimear, please, I just want to talk to you for a minute.’

‘What do you want?’ she said through dry lips.

‘Listen, love, I’m so sorry about your mother. I would have come to the funeral, but I didn’t want to upset you. Jen told me I shouldn’t go, that you wouldn’t want me.’

Eimear listened in disbelief to the reproach she could hear in his voice. ‘She was right. I don’t want you anywhere near me.’

‘Eimear, everyone has poisoned you against me, yes, even your mother, but I wanted to be here for you. You know how I feel about you, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I know.’ Suddenly, Eimear started shaking uncontrollably.

Meg pushed her way between them. She held her mobile phone in her hand and, despite her small frame, pushed Donal back towards the door.

‘I’m warning you, Donal. Get out now, or I'll call the Gardaí.’

Donal ignored her and appealed to Eimear. ‘Come on, love. Is that what you want? I love you, and I want to be here for you. Tell her it’s OK, and then we can talk.’ He gazed at her with soft, pleading eyes.

‘Right, this is my home, and I’m telling you to get out now!’ said Meg.

They could hear a voice on the other end of the phone, saying: ‘Sligo Garda station, what can I do for you?’

Meg and Donal locked eyes.

His fell, and then with a last scorching stare at Eimear, he muttered, ‘OK, I’m going.’

When he left, Eimear fled to the bathroom, and was violently sick.

Afterwards, Eimear sat dumbly as Meg ranted about Donal.

‘The bastard! How dare he call here after everything he did to you! The bloody neck of him!’

Eimear let the torrent of words wash over her, but she concentrated on not letting the pain through. She couldn’t let Donal get to her. She had done so much to shut him out and set up a barricade to keep him out of her thoughts.

‘Meg, please, I can’t bear it. Please stop talking about him. I can’t bear it anymore.’ The words escaping past her lips suddenly unleashed a flood of tears.

Meg stared at her with stricken eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, love. I’ll be quiet now.’

Gulping down sobs, Eimear smiled weakly at Meg. ‘I’m OK, really I am. I wasn’t expecting him to appear like that. I was half afraid he’d show up at the funeral, but he didn’t and I was starting to relax and think he’d finally got the message that I wanted him out of my life. But then he shows up here, and I was just unprepared.’

‘Should we let the Guards know that he’s back harassing you? Haven’t they warned him off? I thought he couldn’t come anywhere near you?’

‘No, leave it be. I don’t think he’ll be back. With Mam out of the way, I expect he thought he could weasel his way back into my life. And perhaps it’s good that he called. Finally, what I was dreading all these weeks has happened. He was here, and you know what? I’m OK. He can’t get to me anymore. I refuse to live my life worried that he’ll show up. Screw him! He’s not taking up any more space in my head. If he comes anywhere near me again, I’ll contact the Guards. The good thing about my job is I know all the local Gardaí, and they’ll watch out for me. And if he keeps being a nuisance, I’ll contact his boss. I doubt if he wants to lose his nice, cushy accountant job. So, if he bothers me, I’ll make life hot for him.’

‘Wow, Eimear, where did all that fire come from?’

‘I don’t know, perhaps I’m channelling Mam. But, anyway, I’m not letting him make me live in fear any longer. I wish I’d said my piece to him when he was here. But enough is enough. He had better keep out of my way. You know what, Meg, he has more to fear from me than I have from him. I could ruin his reputation. No one will want to do business with a stalker, no matter what lies he spins. I have records with the Guards that he was harassing me.’

‘I’m so proud of you, girl! If you hadn’t found out what he was up to, perhaps you’d be married now, and he’d be making your life a living hell.’

‘Yeah, I should be grateful. Mind you, I didn’t see it that way then. When I discovered what he was up to, I saw no silver linings. Maybe it took Mam dying for me to grow up and not let that gobshite have any more power over me. And you know what? Donal's turning up here has convinced me. I’m definitely looking for a new job. I’m sick of him haunting me. I’m tired of having to justify to his sister and others why I want nothing to do with him.’

‘I guess you’re right. A fresh start, yes – that may be what’s needed.’

They headed to bed, and despite all the emotions of the day, Eimear slept deeply and dreamlessly.

Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks, Eimear started the process of getting back into her life. Everyone was very kind at work, especially Mr Holland, her boss, and it was good to have a routine again. She moved back into her home. It was strange being alone in the house without her mam, but she was able to push through the loneliness. She filled in the long hours at night, updating her CV and applying for jobs. Meg kept in regular contact. It was nice to know she was there to lean on whenever loneliness overwhelmed her. They made a point of having a meal together twice a week. It allowed them to talk about the aching loss at the centre of their lives, but it also allowed them to discuss their plans and buoy each other up when they were becoming disheartened.

Meg contacted the printers and placed an order for memorial cards. Eimear chose a recent picture of her mother. Claire looked so vibrant, so happy, that it hurt to imagine it on a card memorialising her death. But the finished product was lovely and Meg insisted she send one to everyone who attended the wake and funeral. Eimear supplied the addresses of her friends from college.

They visited the solicitor’s to see the will. Everything was straightforward and Eimear was well provided for between property and investments. With careful minding, it would offer Eimear security. There was a generous legacy for Meg as well.

After visiting the solicitor’s, Meg treated them to lunch in a new café. The food was good, and they concentrated on enjoying it.

Then they ordered coffee and began to talk.

‘Well, love, now you don’t have to worry about money. And Claire left you her share of Mother’s house – and her own house. What do you think you’ll do? Will you sell up? You could get yourself something smaller and more modern.’

‘Probate will take a while, so I won’t do anything definite yet. I’ll wait and see what the market is like. House prices have plummeted, so now may not be the best time to sell.’

Meg looked at her with anxious eyes. ‘How are the job applications going? Any more developments?’

‘Things are progressing nicely. I’ve got a few interviews lined up. Some of my college friends suggested a few firms that might be a good fit for me. They’re all in Dublin, so it would be a fresh start, a new beginning. What do you think?’

‘I think that you should follow your instincts – but, Eimear, what about friends? You don’t know anyone in Dublin. I’d hate to think of you lonely.’

‘Listen, Meg, I’m a big girl now. I’ll be grand.’ She quickly changed the subject. ‘But what about you and your travel plans?’

Meg took a sip of coffee and sighed heavily. ‘Oh God, I’m finding it so hard to get motivated. It feels strange not to be planning this with Claire. You know we’d planned she would meet up with me at some points on the trip. It seems wrong to be doing this without her. You know how she loved city breaks.’

‘Aww, Meg, I know this must be so difficult for you.’

Meg sighed heavily. ‘The truth is, I’ve also been finding it hard to cope with memories of the accident.’

Eimear reached across the table and placed her hand over Meg’s. ‘I can only imagine how hard that has been for you.’

‘This week my doctor suggested I get some counselling. But you know me, Eimear, I’ve never been one for navel-gazing. I think a break from everything – from all the reminders might help.’

‘God, Meg, getting counselling after a traumatic accident isn’t navel-gazing! Come on!’

‘You’re right, but not right now. Let’s see what an adventure and a complete change of scene can do for me.’

‘I think a trip abroad will be a great distraction, and you’ll regret it if you put it off. So tell me – what exactly have you got lined up?’

‘Well, as you know, I’ve always had a yen to explore Europe. I’ve only been to Paris and Spain. So, I’ve decided to get an Interrail Pass. I know it’s mad that I’m finally doing what college students do in their early twenties at the ripe old age of forty. Am I mad?’

‘I think it’s brilliant. I expect you to send me postcards from all the lovely places you visit and I insist on long newsy emails and lots and lots of pictures. Your phone has a decent camera, so no excuses. I’d love letters, a kind of travelogue if you still remember how to write them. But I suppose your generation still has the skill.’

Meg laughed. ‘Cheeky! I’m not much older than you, my girl, but I’ll see what I can do. But if I manage more than one letter, it’ll be a miracle.’’

‘Where will you fly to first?’

‘I have no idea. I feel like doing something mad, like arriving at the airport and taking the most interesting flight available!’

Eimear laughed. ‘Great idea! It’s what a college student might do!’

’Yeah, but maybe I’ll pass up on the youth hostels and find some nice, inexpensive hotels.’ Meg raised her eyebrows and grinned.

‘Definitely the way to travel! But will you be OK for money, Meg? I can lend you some until Mam’s money comes through. My bank account is fairly healthy.’

‘Don’t be daft! I’ve been saving for this.’

‘What about your job?’

‘The hotel will have no trouble finding another receptionist – they may even hold the job for me until I return. So, we are both stepping into the unknown. But I promise you that if you need me, I’ll be back on the next plane.’

‘I’ll be OK – don’t worry about me. And I think it’s great for you to have an adventure.’

The weeks flew by. Meg got a tenant for her house, someone who was building locally and needed somewhere to stay until their home was ready. She booked an Interrail Pass and talked excitedly about her itinerary, interspersed with tearful moments of guilt for moving on with her life. Eimear knew how she felt. It seemed wrong to make plans when the person most important to you had gone. It felt like a betrayal.

Eimear got two job offers and decided to go with an established firm of solicitors. It was a mid-sized firm, and she knew she was lucky to get a job there – so many of the people she graduated with were let go from their firms in the aftermath of the economic crash. The head of the practice was a man called Philip Jolly and, by a wonderful coincidence, his name suited him. He was about fifty and had a friendly open face and massive eyebrows that sat comically atop dancing eyes. He had a proper belly laugh, and everything wobbled when he chuckled, from his chin to his belly. She couldn’t imagine him as a sober, serious solicitor – he looked more like an enthusiastic primary-school teacher. She briefly met some of the ancillary staff, who seemed friendly, but it was all so quick she didn’t get any real impressions of them. She was to start at the beginning of September, so she needed to find somewhere to stay.

The long slog of trying to find an apartment wore her down and there were times when she was tempted to take anywhere as her start date at work was looming. Then, just when she was about to give up hope, an estate agent took her to see a nice place in Rathmines. It was a newly built block and the apartments were either one or two beds. The one she saw was a one-bed with a small but immaculate kitchen, and the living room looked out onto a small park. She stepped out onto the tiny balcony and saw that the trees that dotted the park were starting to turn russet. She loved the thought of looking out onto a blaze of colour in a few weeks when autumn really took hold. She told the estate agent that she wanted it. The cost per month was high, but the place was perfect. It wasn’t a big distance from work, and it had parking. She was lucky to be the first to see the flat, and the next day she signed the lease and paid her deposit.

It was exciting to be moving into her new apartment. All her previous experiences of apartment-living were student accommodation and shared flats. She looked forward to making this place her own, styling it to suit herself.

The empty flat was soon filled with all her familiar things. Pride of place were the photographs of her parents. As she put a recent photograph of herself and her mam on the sideboard, she thought how much she looked like her mother. They both were dark-haired and dark-eyed, and had the same pointed chin and small, uptilted nose. Eimear wished she had her mother's height and grace. She thought enviously of how clothes hung so beautifully on her, whereas Eimear had to shop carefully if she didn’t want to look swamped or like a little girl playing at dress-up.

Meg came to stay for a few days and helped with the unpacking. The day before her trip coincided with Eimear’s first day at her new job. Eimear felt excited and a little apprehensive.

Philip Jolly introduced her to her new colleagues, and his rich laugh boomed out joyously with each introduction. They were two solicitors in their early thirties, and they seemed nice. John Kirk, from Kildare, was married with a young family, was very soft-spoken, and had a restless presence. He had spikey ginger hair, cut very short, which gave him a slightly startled air. Toby Cox, the other solicitor, was his opposite, extremely talkative and inquisitive. He reminded her of a friendly spaniel. She liked him but not his habit of asking very direct questions. He was only a few years older than her and at the end of the first day he invited her to go for a drink after work. The staff had decided to have a welcome drink for her, if she had the time. Eimear appreciated the gesture. Chatting with her new colleagues in a less formal setting would be really nice.

The pub was packed, but Toby found them a space at the back. Kate the paralegal, Hannah the secretary and Iris the receptionist came along too. They seemed nice. Kate was pale and dark with a distinctive Donegal accent and vivid blue eyes that darted constantly as though worried that she’d miss something. Hannah was the prettiest and a true Dubliner. Her family were born and raised in the Liberties for several generations. She had wavy blond hair and a curvy figure that Eimear suspected probably fluctuated from slim to chubby throughout the year. She spent most of the time peeping at Toby when she thought no one was looking and laughing hard at anything mildly witty that he said. Iris had made a reference to Hannah’s boyfriend but it was clear to Eimear that she was keen on Toby. Not that Eimear blamed her, because he was a good-looking man, in a sporty, muscular way. He had thick, black, wavy hair that fell over his forehead. Eimear imagined that many girls would be keen to sweep it to one side, all the better to see his spaniel-brown eyes. But she felt safe from him as after Donal she wasn’t in the market for boyfriends. Relationships were messy and fraught with misunderstandings and, for now, she wanted a quiet life free of the stresses of a new relationship. Iris was a tall, extremely thin girl. She looked stern until her laugh rippled out like an explosive Santa. Although she was from Carlow, she had a slight English accent from her years working in London as a receptionist for a hotel chain.

After one drink, Eimear made her excuses and returned to Rathmines. On the bus home, she got a call from Donal. She let him have it before he even got a chance to talk, and he barely got a word in. She didn’t even care that the entirety of the bus heard her lambaste him. It felt good. Then she hung up and blocked his number. This was her third attempt, but he kept using different phones to contact her. But perhaps now he would accept she meant business and give up.

Meg had prepared steak and salad, and Eimear had the foresight to purchase a nice bottle of red.

After dinner, they sat sipping their wine.

‘I hope the new job works out for you, pet. You deserve a bit of peace after the last year. Suddenly losing your mam was terrible but, before that, you had breaking up with Donal and dealing with his nasty antics. I’ve meant to ask you, has that fecker been in touch since he showed up at the house after the funeral?’

Eimear sighed. ‘Yes, he rang me just as I was coming home on the bus. It was good because I let him have it and told him I’d make his life miserable if he contacted me again.’

‘How did he take that?’

‘I think I got through to him. He didn’t like that I threatened his job, and I think he had never seen me so tough. It took Mam dying to make me realise that I’m no pushover and can stand up for myself. When I think back, I was such a dope. I let him away with so much while we were going out. When he cheated, he did me a favour because I saw what he was really like. Then, as if cheating wasn’t bad enough, he had to lie about it and follow me around for weeks, only stopping when Alec told him to back off. But, look, Meg, let's not waste our last night together talking about that gobshite.’

‘OK, love. Tell me about your first day. What are the people like?’

‘I had a quick drink with the younger staff. They seem nice, and Philip Jolly is a pet – he suits his name. Do you know what, Meg? I think I’ll be happy there. I really do.’

Meg raised her glass. ‘To fresh starts and new adventures!’

They smiled delightedly at each other.

Meg glanced at her watch. ‘God almighty, will you look at the time? I’d better get to bed. My flight is at nine, and I need to be at the airport by seven at the very latest.’

As she jumped to her feet, Eimear caught her hand, ‘Hey, give me a shout before you leave. I need to get up early, too. I want to get a handle on the work in the office, so I plan to be in before anyone else.’

Meg grinned. ‘OK. I’ve booked a taxi for six thirty, so I’ll pop my head around your door.’

Eimear got up and hugged her aunt.

‘I won’t have time in the morning, Eimear, but I want to remind you to call me if you ever need to talk or if Donal bothers you again.’

‘Meg, please don’t be worrying. Donal is history, and it’s a case of out of sight, out of mind. Besides, I’m the one who should be worrying about you off on your solo travels. You will take care, won’t you?’

Meg grinned at her. ‘I’m the auntie. I’m supposed to do the worrying, but we’ll keep in contact, and I’ll be back before you know it.’

The next morning, as promised, Meg stopped at the couch where her niece was sleeping and kissed her forehead.

Eimear stirred and started to get up.

‘No, stay where you are. I’m heading to the foyer to wait for the taxi.’

‘Don’t you want to have a slice of toast before you go?’

‘No, thanks, I’m going to have something at the airport, so grab a few more minutes of snooze before the alarm rings.’

Eimear drifted back to sleep. At seven, the harsh ring of the alarm clock pulled her from sleep. Sitting on her couch bed, she looked at the flat door and felt bereft. She would miss Meg. Without her, the last few months would have been even worse. But now was the time to start embracing her new life.

Chapter 4

The next few weeks of work were challenging. She had to get used to working in a bigger firm than Holland & Byrne. Instead of just Mr Holland and a secretary, she now had half a dozen colleagues and, although Philip Jolly was very nice, he was also quite exacting. But he wasn’t a control freak, and she felt he trusted her to do her job. The other two solicitors were competitive for business. The firm felt the economic downturn but was holding up its end. Still, she was able to hold her own, and in the weekly business meeting she made sure she wasn’t sitting silent but tried to make her interjections thoughtful and pertinent.

She particularly liked Kate, the paralegal. Kate had moved to Dublin five years before. Her boyfriend, Joe, was a Dub, and they were saving to get married. She was full of ready smiles and sharp quips.

From the beginning, she was delighted that the girls made her feel welcome to their usual Friday evening chill-down. Usually, it was a bit of a bitch-fest as Hannah and Iris found the workload from the younger solicitors a bit much. But she liked the girls and was glad they had included her in their craic. She had been worried that they might have decided that, as a solicitor, she would not fit in with them. She wanted to go out with them partly for fear that if she didn’t go they’d think her stuck-up. But she soon realised that she relished the warmth and the company of being part of a crowd of friends.

On the last Friday in September, they were ensconced in their usual corner of Lennon’s. The pub was packed to the doors. The girls had to shout to be heard, but the din of the customers and the rattle of glasses gave an air of privacy. Unlike some evenings, no one was hurrying to get home. Iris had just broken up with her boyfriend. Her skinny frame shook with laughter as she regaled the girls on details of a recent blind date. Joe, Kate’s fella, was out with his mates, and Hannah and her man had had a row, so everyone, including Eimear, was happy to stay late.

When Hannah was at the loo, Iris leaned closer, and in the quietest shout she could make and still be heard, she said, ‘You know, now that Hannah and Paul have had their latest fight, it might be Hannah’s opportunity to get together with Toby.’

Kate shook her head. ‘Aww, come on, Iris! You’re exaggerating. Her Paul is a bit dull, but he’s mad about her. He treats her like a princess. Maybe that’s the problem – he’s too keen on her and there’s no challenge. Hannah always starts silly fights with him, and he never stands up to her. Maybe if he did they’d get on better. But I can’t see her jeopardising her relationship because she’s got a crush on Toby.’

‘True, but I see how she looks at Toby, just like Philip eyeing up a nice cream doughnut!’

The girls giggled at Iris’s image. Philip looked positively creepy when sizing up a plate of pastries.

‘Toby is a looker, I grant you,’ said Kate, ‘but he’s looking more upmarket than our Hannah. He’s keen on Jolly’s young one. Did you not see him flirting with her when she came to meet her dad for lunch the other day? He’d like to be part of the family. They’re loaded.’

‘I didn’t know Philip had a daughter,’ Eimear said.

‘Yes, her name is Camilla, Cami to her friends.’

‘Who the fuck calls their child Camilla?’ giggled Iris.

‘Hetty, short for Henrietta, Jolly does. Philip is down to earth, but Hetty has her notions, and the name Camilla fits in with where they live better than something old-fashioned like Concepta.’ Kate smirked and waggled her eyebrows.

They giggled at the idea of Concepta Jolly from Howth.

‘Has he any chance with her?’ Eimear asked.

Kate shook her head. ‘Philip Jolly is too protective of his Cami. He wants someone more mature for his precious daughter, especially as she’ll be dropping out of Trinity. She failed her first-year exams and barely got the repeats. She hardly ever attended lectures, so it was no surprise she was failing.’

‘How do you know so much about Camilla Jolly?’ Eimear asked Kate.

‘My cousin is studying law with her and says she’s useless. No, you can depend on it. She’ll be dropping out soon.’

The conversation ended when Hannah came back. Her bouncy blond curls were freshly brushed, and she had freshened up her make-up. She looked like a plump, big-eyed Crolly doll.

‘You guys look cheerful. What are you talking about?’ she asked as she resumed her seat beside Eimear.

‘Nothing much, Hannah. We were discussing our weekend plans. Did I tell you that Joe and I are going to dinner at Revels tomorrow night?’

‘You did not. That will set you back a fortune. Did your numbers come up?’ teased Iris.

‘I wish. It’s a present from Joe’s family for his birthday. I bought him tickets to Oxygen and I’ll give them to him tomorrow at dinner. He moaned so much about missing last year's festival, so this should make him smile.’

‘Will you look at the time? It’s well past time I was off,’ said Eimear. ‘I still haven’t unpacked all my boxes, and I need to find a frying pan at least. I’ve been living on takeout and toast.’

She reached for her coat, said goodbye to the girls and left the pub.

She caught a bus home. She rarely brought her car to work as parking was in short supply near the office and, besides, she only needed the Mini when she was heading to Sligo. The bus wasn’t too busy, and she got to read her novel and relax.

The bus stopped across the road from the flat. The weather had turned nasty. Sheets of rain hit her face, so she pulled her blue coat over her head and raced to the apartment block.

She was about to go upstairs when she decided to check her post-box. Perhaps there would be something from Meg. She had sent lots of texts and a postcard. There were four letters – three were bills, but she realised one was from Meg as she recognised her sloping handwriting and saw a French stamp. She smiled in delight. Meg had kept her promise.

Intriguingly, there was also a large A4-sized envelope. The postmark was the city centre and her name and address were typed. Must be something official – she couldn’t think what.

She hurried up to her flat, put on the kettle and made tea. Then, tea in hand, she sat on the couch to enjoy the letter from Meg. It was nice, long, and full of descriptions of the people she had met on her travels and the beautiful sights of Paris. Being Meg, she had also described her culinary experiences. The woman did love her food. Meg joked that now she had fulfilled her promise but Eimear wasn’t to expect any more letters as her hand was unused to the effort and strain. When she finished reading, she put the letter back in the envelope to read later whenever she needed a dose of her aunt’s good humour and warmth.

She glanced at the bills and decided to deal with them later. Then she picked up the large envelope and pulled the flap open.

She stared at the contents. Photographs. She tipped the envelope and several large photographs slipped out. She spread them out. They were all of her. In them, she was pictured outside her office, coming back from the local Deli with Kate, and finally and most disturbingly entering her apartment. Her heart thumped. What the hell?

She remained frozen to the spot and, then, as though released from a horrible spell, she turned them over and looked to see if there was anything written or printed on the back – perhaps an address of where they had been developed. Nothing. She checked the envelope, looking for a note. Nothing.

She replaced the photos in the envelope.

Someone was surreptitiously taking photographs of her. Was it Donal? Who else could it be?

She picked up her phone and called Lana, her friend from school.

Lana picked up immediately.

‘Hey, stranger, how nice to hear from you! How’s the new job?’

‘Fine, all good. Listen, Lana. Can you tell me something?' She didn’t feel up to fielding questions, anxious to get to the point. ‘Do you know if Donal is still in town? I mean, has he made any recent trips to Dublin?’

‘Oh God, he’s not bothering you still, is he?’

‘No, no. But do you know if he’s left Sligo since I got here?’

‘I don’t think so – he’s still going to work. I’ve seen his car parked in the usual spot.’

‘What about at the weekend? Has he been around?’

‘Well, he’s been in the pub every Saturday despite the evil eye he gets from us all. He treated you so badly, and your real mates don’t forget.’

‘What about Jen? Has she been about?’

‘She’s by his side like his protector, deflecting the death stares we’re sending him.’

‘I see. Thanks, Lana.’

‘Hey, hold up, girl! What’s this about? He’s been bothering you again, hasn’t he? I thought after Alec had a word he cooled his jets.’

‘No, no – I haven’t heard from him. It’s just ...’

‘Just what, Eimear?’

‘I just wanted to make sure he was still in Sligo.’

‘And he’s not harassing you?’

‘No. Perhaps everything is going too well, and I’m a bit spooked.’

‘Are you telling me everything?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. Work is going great, and hopefully I’ll make it down for a visit and we can all go out together and have a bit of craic. Tell me how everyone is doing.’

Eimear listened with half an ear while Lana filled her in on all the gang. Eventually, she was able to end the call.

She stared at the envelope. It was like what Donal would do: take pictures of her to make her feel scared and vulnerable. He had bombarded her with texts and messages when she broke up with him. He sent her numerous pictures on Facebook and, even after she blocked him, he continued to send her emails. It was like he wanted to remind her that he was still there, waiting in the wings, ready to pounce. But if he was in Sligo, who took the photos? She pulled them out of the envelope again. She was wearing a dark green scarf in the picture of her leaving the office. It had belonged to her mam. She wore that only a couple of days ago. In the photograph of her entering the flat, she wore the blue jacket she had bought to keep her warm now that winter was closing in. Yesterday was the first day she had worn it. Christ, he was keeping tabs on her! Lana thought Donal was still in Sligo, but she didn’t know for certain. For all she knew, Donal could have slipped up to Dublin on the train and be tailing her all over town. She shivered at the thought.

She stared at the photos. This whole thing smelled of Donal. Could he have had someone else take the pictures? What should she do? In the past, when Donal was being a dick, she had contacted Alec. One time, during an evening out with friends in the local pub, he had mortified her by having a very public row, alternatively wheedling and guilt-tripping her and ultimately verbally abusing her. It was the first time that he frightened her. He was no longer just a pest or a nuisance. The persistence and, above all, the way he looked at her and the violent ugliness of his words scared her. Alec had stepped in and put him straight. And things had got better. Alec was convinced that Donal would stop bothering her. But was this a new campaign from a safe distance? After all, she couldn’t prove it was Donal.

But if it wasn’t Donal, who else could it be? She had no enemies as far as she knew. As a teenager, she had a few frenemies, but that was all kid stuff and long in the past. It scared her – the thought of someone taking her picture when she was out and about. She shivered at the thought of someone watching her, following her. For feck’s sake, this was not what she needed. Bloody Donal, it had to be him, however he did it. Well, she wasn’t going to let him get to her. It was probably just his last futile attempt to rattle her. Screw him!

Taking a breath, she picked up her phone and called Alec. She needed to put a stop to this craziness, and Alec would know what to do. He answered on the second ring.

‘Hey, Alec, I hope I’m not bothering you at a bad time. Are you at work, or can you talk?’

‘I’m just pulling into the driveway. My shift just finished. Is everything alright? You sound worried.’

‘Yeah, well, I got something in the post that upset me.’

‘What the hell? Is that bastard bothering you again?’

‘The thing is, I’m not sure, but I suppose it has to be him. I got several photos in the post, and they are all recent pictures of me coming and going to work and arriving at my apartment. There’s no note, but it’s creepy, the idea that someone is following me, taking pictures and knows where I live. I rang Lana, and she thought Donal was in Sligo all week, saw his car around – but obviously, she couldn’t be certain.’

‘That proves nothing. He could have got someone to take the photos. Didn’t he go to college in Dublin? He might have got a friend to take them.’

Eimear sighed angrily. ‘Christ, I’m sick to death of this, Alec. I thought if I got away and made a fresh start, he’d leave me be. What should I do?’

‘Right, first thing tomorrow, call to the local Garda station and tell them what’s happening. They’ll not do anything, but at least you’ll have alerted them. In the meantime, I’ll pay Donal a visit, give him hell, and tell him the Guards in Dublin are on it, too. That should soften his cough. He’ll not be too worried about me, but the idea that the Dublin lads are involved might give him a fright.’

Eimear thanked Alec and ended the call with his reassurance ringing in her ears. She felt better for calling him, but the lovely, happy mood Meg’s letter had created was tarnished. Her stomach growled, and where she usually ordered a takeaway on a Friday evening, she couldn’t be bothered tonight. Instead, she opened a tin of beans, heated them on the gas hob and toasted some bread. She sat in front of the TV and ate her frugal meal. The telly couldn’t distract her from the contents of the envelope. She decided to catch up on some paperwork and opened her laptop. The work was tedious, but it occupied her until it was time for bed.

Surprisingly, she managed to fall asleep quickly. Then, in the middle of the night, she woke with a start, her heart pounding. She listened intently, but all was quiet. She sank back into the welcoming warmth of the bed but, instead of its comfort lulling her to sleep, she tossed and turned until morning.

Chapter 5

It had taken her a while to accustom herself to the rhythm of her new job. In Holland and Byrne, she had been used to a slower pace, but in the city there was a greater sense of urgency and the variety of the work was stimulating. Her mainstay was still mainly compensation cases, wills and a little conveyancing, but she could see that there would be opportunities to get involved with some business clients, too. Of course, Toby and to a lesser extent John had most of the big clients, but she could see that there would be opportunities for her, too.

As the weeks passed, she took pains to be meticulous and thorough in her work and Philip Jolly was giving her more opportunities. This was clearly putting Toby’s nose out of joint, but that couldn’t be helped. At the weekly business meetings, Philip called on her more frequently, and she could see that he believed she had a future in the firm.

It was mid-October, and she was well settled into the job, so well settled that she had forgotten to set her alarm on Monday morning and arrived at the office slightly late. She hated rushing and had an early client that she wanted to be prepared for. She was switching on her computer when Mr Brown walked in. Thankfully, it wasn’t a very demanding meeting. She was going through some probate issues of his mother's will. But it left her feeling out of sorts and behind with the day. She felt she was playing catch-up all morning. She worked through her lunch, eating a bar of chocolate and drinking pints of coffee to keep her going.

Now, at six o'clock, she felt ravenous but the thought of having to cook a meal when she got home drained her already ebbing energy. So when Iris suggested they grab a bite in the pub around the corner, she agreed with alacrity. It had the bonus of allowing the rush-hour traffic to dissipate, and she would have an easier journey home.

The Snuggery was aptly named. It was a small establishment with three snugs enclosing an open bar area. The girls found a free alcove and ordered a large pot of tea, burgers and chips. The food was simple with no frills, but it tasted good, and they set to eating with gusto.

Eimear debated mentioning the photos to Iris. But she was hesitant. She liked Iris. She was fun and very helpful with any extra work that needed doing. But she was a bit of a gossip. It wasn’t a good look to have it known that she had a stalker who was taking sneaky pictures of her and her workmates. No, better not say anything. Philip Jolly wouldn’t appreciate the drama.

Iris looked at her quizzically. ‘What’s up? You look worried?’

‘Nothing, I’m just tired and slept in this morning – that always messes with my head.’

‘How are you finding things at work? Are the two lads treating you OK? I know they can be hungry for the big jobs, but they can’t just be divvying them up between each other. John is a decent lad, but he’s got a wife and kids, and I suppose he’s keen to do well, but I don’t think he’d do you down. But Toby is a different kettle of fish – a real barracuda.’

‘What, Toby? He seems harmless.’

‘You are kidding? He’s about as harmless as a snake. Our Toby is all charm on the outside, but he’d sell his granny if he thought it would help him. Look how he’s treating Hannah. He knows she’s keen on him, so he’s getting her to do extra work and praising her to keep her eager to please. It’s pathetic the way she laps up everything he says. She’s not wise, that girl. So you watch out. He’d look you straight in the eye and lie to you without blinking.’

‘God, Iris, I didn’t know you disliked him so much.’

‘I don’t dislike him. I think he’s great craic and good company on a night out, but I don’t fool myself that he’s my pal. Toby is out for Toby and more power to him. But I wouldn’t like to see him pulling a fast one on you. The last guy who joined us only lasted six months because Toby made him look inept, so watch your back and make sure he doesn’t try to muscle in on any of your clients. He’s great at offering help and advice and then taking over. So be warned.’

‘Thanks, Iris, I appreciate the heads-up. Things have been tough recently, and I appreciate knowing I can rely on someone.’

Iris smiled at her encouragingly and, before she knew it, she was confiding in her about her mother's death and a little about Donal. She managed to stop herself from mentioning the postal delivery. Later, while waiting for her bus, she regretted being so open. Iris was nice, but she wasn’t a friend.

Back at the flat, as the long evening stretched ahead, she thought about contacting some of her college friends. Several had come to the funeral. She had neglected them when she was with Donal and, when things went wrong with him, she was too ashamed to reach out to them. She considered ringing them and was just about to do so when she looked at the clock. It was nine o'clock. Two of her friends would probably be putting their children to bed, and the single ones were probably out socialising. Besides, it felt false to turn to them now when she had neglected them for the last four years.

She missed Meg. The postcards she sent brought some of the sunshine from where they originated into her life. In the six weeks since she had started her travels, Meg had sent three postcards and the letter. Eimear looked at the fridge where the postcards were pinned. The most recent was from Vienna and it announced her intention to travel to Budapest to visit a buddy who was working at the international school there. Meg was having a great time. She deserved it. Claire always encouraged her sister to travel and would be delighted that, finally, she was taking her advice. It was just a pity that she wasn’t around to go on a travel adventure with her. Eimear pictured her mam and Meg as two hippies wandering around Europe. Although, Claire was too glamorous to pass as a hippie.

Staring at the splashes of colour on the fridge door, she realised that it was high time she took her life in hand. All work and no play was making her a very dull girl. She was struck by how small her social life had become. It was time she kicked ass and started getting involved in life. She had always had an active social life, well, she had until she hooked up with Donal. She needed to make a life for herself here in Dublin – make new friends and develop new interests. After all, she was young, free, and single. Who knew what possibilities were out there? OK, she wasn’t ready to start a relationship, but she wanted a bit of fun, a bit of lightness in her life. There were so many ways to meet people and she had always been an active person.

Trouble was, a lot of the things she liked doing had associations with Donal. For example, she loved hiking, tennis, and squash. All those things they had done together. Since they broke up, she had given them up. She gave herself a pinch. Wake up, you can’t let that fecker rob you of all the things that you loved. You must join a health centre, attend classes, join a book club, or a gym. There were lots of things to do, and she had no one to please except herself. She mustn’t sit like a drip in her flat and let life pass her by.

Yes, a gym would be a good idea. Something new, something active … something that had nothing to do with Donal. Instantly, she felt better. Tomorrow, she would check out gyms and go on from there. It felt good to have a plan, to make a start on her new life.

The thought of the photographs and her watcher still hovered at the back of her mind, but she was determined to shut them down.

The next morning, she decided to take her car to work. Philip was away, so there would be space in the car park. She hopped into the car, relieved when it started immediately – sometimes, it misbehaved and had to be coaxed into cooperation. She glanced in her rear mirror and gasped, and the car jolted to a halt. The word DIE was written in capitals in lurid red on her rear window. She pulled open the car door and ran to look at it. Who the hell would do this? Was it blood? She shook herself – wise up, it must be paint. She nerved herself to touch the viscous material and smelt it. With relief, she could see it was ordinary paint. It dripped down the rear window and spread over the car's metal. If she waited to call the guards, the paint would dry and cost a fortune to remove. It had only just been done. Desperately, she grabbed the packet of tissues from her glove box and used them to wipe away the paint. It made a vivid mess. She’d never be able to see out of the window. Scanning the yard, she saw a water butt and filled a battered tin she found in a bin and started splashing water over the back window. It took an age but, with the addition of washing-up liquid, she cleared up most of the mess. She rang work, explaining she had car trouble and then dropped the car off at a garage to be valeted. The guys there were disgusted on her behalf and speculated which local lads might be responsible. She shrugged and left them, hoping they’d eliminate any paint residue.

When she got on the bus at ten, she was annoyed that she had forgotten to photograph the damage. If it happened again to her or anyone in her building, she wanted pictorial evidence to show the guards. At work, she apologised for being late and decided against telling them what had happened. Instead, she said she had a flat tyre and had left the car at home.

When she returned from work that evening, she called to the local Garda station and told them about the incident. They promised to look into it, but she wasn’t about to hold her breath judging by the lacklustre response to her complaint. She reminded them about her report of the photographs she had received in the post. She took note of the name of the Garda who dealt with her.

Was this connected with the photographs she received? It seemed such a bizarre thing to do. If her tyres had been let down or her door keyed, she would have put it down to ordinary vandalism that could be directed at anyone. But someone had gone to the trouble of buying paint and writing DIE on her rear window. That didn’t seem like a random act, but a deliberately targeted one.

Was Donal behind it? But it seemed too vicious for him. But who else could it be? Well, Jen was ripping with her because she dumped Donal. She had accused Eimear of blackening Donal’s name all over town. Jen was fiery, but this was way over the top. She loved her brother, but this would be an unhinged overreaction.

Back at the flat, she checked her post-box to see if there was another postcard from Meg. There was only one letter in the box: an A4-sized envelope. Her heart sank.

Chapter 6

Making threats is dangerous for your health. Sleep well while you can. It won’t be long now!

The words bounced off the page and hit her with their vicious tone. The sentence ‘It won’t be long now’ was underlined so hard it had torn the paper. Her mouth dried up, and her skin prickled. This was scary. Who was doing this to her? God, she had only arrived in Dublin two months ago and, apart from the guys in the office, she knew nobody. Had she done something to upset someone? But even if she had, this reaction was messed up. Again, she thought of Donal. But how? It seemed over the top that he had hired someone to vandalise her car. The photos, even this note, could be from him, but it was so melodramatic. Maybe it had nothing to do with Donal. It seemed bizarre that two people, Donal and a mysterious other, should have it in for her.

Could it be a case of mistaken identity? If so, how had it happened? And what should she do? How do you convince an unknown enemy that they were wasting their efforts on the wrong person?

She looked at the printed note, noticing again how a pen had been scored hard against the page, almost ripping it. That was more threatening than the actual words. It indicated intense feelings. Eimear stared at the note. It was crazy how marks on a page could scare her. Should she mention it to Philip or one of the others? But she had just started at the firm and didn’t want them to think she had enemies. A solicitor’s firm likes to maintain an image of respectability. As nice as Philip Jolly was, she didn’t think he’d be impressed that his latest hire was attracting such negative attention. She was still on probation. It would be months before she would have any real job security. John and Toby would probably express sympathy, but she knew they’d use the information to make her look bad and solidify their positions. If she told the girls, she would have to depend on their discretion and, anyway, what could they do?

She put the note with the photos in the pink lockbox where she kept all her important documents. OK, she could do nothing right now and needed to eat something. Perhaps she could think more clearly after eating and decide what to do. She microwaved a ready meal, something green with chicken and had a glass of wine.

Later, after finishing her rubbery meal, she stretched out on the couch and watched some telly. But it failed to grab her attention. She picked up her phone, and there was a text from Meg, suggesting they Facetime now if she was free. The thought of speaking to Meg lifted her spirits. Rapidly, she texted her agreement, and in a few minutes, the call came through. Meg’s friendly face filled up the screen of her phone.

‘Well, hello, darling! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?’

‘Aww, Meg, it’s great to see you. Where in the world are you now? Come on, make me jealous!’

‘It’s great to see you, and I’m dying to hear all the craic. I’m just back from the shops, and I totally lost the run of myself. I’ve bought more clothes than I’d need for a lifetime – and how am I going to carry them about with me as I travel? I’m nuts! But, you know what, I don’t care. It was such fun.’ She held a bright-blue dress with splashes of orange against her body. ‘What do you think, Eimear? Does it suit me?’

‘Very chic, Meg. It’s good to see you wearing such vibrant colours, they really suit you. It’s high time you started treating yourself. You deserve it. So where are you?’

‘I’m still in the lovely Budapest. My friend Alice came here to teach in one of the international schools, fell in love with a Hungarian and never left. When I called to say hi, she and her husband insisted I stay for a few days. They’ve been absolute dotes, but you know the saying that, like fish, guests go off after three days, and I’ve been here nearly a week, so I’m heading off tomorrow. I thought I’d hire a car, drive around the country and take in the sights.’

‘So are you becoming addicted to travelling? Will you be off around the world next?’

Meg laughed. ‘Maybe!’ Then she paused, looking a little downcast. ‘You know, sometimes I feel a bit disoriented. I’m thinking that all this travelling is just a way of avoiding thinking about Claire and the accident.’

‘God, yes, the accident must still haunt you. Do you want to come home, Meg? You know that you can stay with me until your renters give you back your house or stay at Mam’s.’

‘Thanks, love, but I’m not ready to come home yet. Yes, maybe I’m running away from things, but I think on the whole being on the move is helping.’

‘So where are your wandering feet taking you next?’

‘Next week, I’ll travel to Germany, Poland, and Denmark. I’ve never been to Berlin, and I’d like to visit Krakow.’

‘Wow, that’s exciting! You’re going to be exhausted once this trip is over.’

‘Well, I’m going to take a break from travelling when I get to Denmark. I plan to go to Copenhagen and stay a while. I’ve been checking out some websites. Do you know, if you’re willing to do a bit of pet-sitting and plant-watering, you can get to stay in some nice places free of charge? It’s a win-win for everybody concerned. I plan to see if I can find a nice apartment in the centre of the city.’

‘Meg! You shouldn’t have to look for jobs to make ends meet! I told you – if you need a loan, I can help.’

‘Minding a few cats and throwing water on some flowers hardly counts as work! And I’m grand for money. I just prefer staying in someone’s home rather than a soulless hotel. So stop worrying about me.’

‘Well, if you're sure …’

‘I am. I’m not borrowing from my niece – besides, the Taylors gave me a generous deposit to rent the house so I’m rolling in it, honestly. But I will take you up on your offer to put me up for a few weeks when I eventually wend my way home.’

‘You know I’d love to have you here, and you can pay me in nice dinners when I come home from work.’

‘Well, I had good training looking after your gran all those years. Now, enough about me. Tell me everything that you’ve been up to. First, how’s the new job?’

Eimear filled Meg in about the office and delighted her with her pen portraits of Philip Jolly and the others who worked there.

‘That Toby buck seems interesting. You certainly painted him as a bit of a lad and a hunk to boot. Do I detect the stirrings of romantic interest?’

‘Indeed you do not. That fellow has eyes on better fish than me. He’s after the boss’s young one. He’s one with an eye to the main chance. But although he’s a bit of a rogue, he’s alright, really.’

‘So everything is going fine!’ Meg paused, looking awkward. ‘Look, Eimear, I was just wondering if Donal has been bothering you.’

‘No. Why do you ask?’ She realised her voice sounded too sharp.

‘It’s just that he was so scary that night, the way he behaved at the house. I’m worried about you.’

‘Thanks, Meg, but moving away was the best thing, and it’s a case of out of sight, out of mind. I think threatening to tell his boss was a good move. In fact, I’ve been so busy I haven’t given him a thought.’

‘And here I am, bringing him up again. Sorry, pet.’

‘That’s fine. I appreciate your concern; really I do. But all’s good.’

‘Have you any more gossip for me? Any news from home?’

‘Not a bit. But, hey, you’ll be glad to hear I plan to join a gym. There's one that’s handy for the flat and, if I meet people through it, that would be a bonus. They also offer yoga and judo classes, so I might give them a go. I’m also thinking of starting to play squash again, so soon I’ll have a jam-packed social calendar.’

‘Well, good for you! I’m so glad you’re getting out and about again. But I hear my hosts returning from work, so I had better go. I promised them I’d cook a typical Irish dinner for them.’

‘God, not bacon and cabbage?’

‘No – they requested Irish stew.’

‘They must think we eat nothing else. OK, get to work! Love you!’

Meg blew a kiss, and the connection ended.

Eimear felt bereft. It was nice to chat with Meg, but it made her feel her absence more keenly. Should she have told her about the unpleasant postal deliveries and the damage to her car? No, it would only upset her. Knowing Meg, she’d have insisted on getting the next plane home, and if she thought Donal was responsible for upsetting her niece she’d go for him and wouldn’t hold back. There was no need to worry her. At least not yet.

It was high time Meg had a little fun. She was always minding others. Eimear wondered why Meg never married. Vaguely, she recalled Meg dating a few guys but never for more than a few months. Well, who knew, she might meet someone on her travels. That would be one wedding she’d be happy to go to.

She pondered over what Meg had said about Donal. Mam and Meg had tried to warn her about him. They thought he was possessive and jealous. But she hadn’t listened. She was so flattered that this amazing hunk fancied her. She ignored all the red flags, the times he made her cancel arrangements with friends, the way he needed to know everywhere she went and who she met. She had even been flattered by his jealousy, however ridiculously misplaced. At a later point, Meg had suggested that maybe, once they got engaged, he might be more sure of her and less possessive. She desperately wanted Meg to be right. It was the one time her aunt had steered her wrong. Her mam was very upset that she had got engaged and begged Eimear to have a long engagement.

But Eimear thought him perfect, the most wonderful man alive. That should have warned her. No one is perfect unless they’re playing a part. She should be grateful for the girl he was playing around with. If she hadn’t seen him kissing her with her own eyes, she might be married now. Mam and Meg had been kind and supportive. There had been no ‘I told you so’ from either of them. They just gave her shoulders to cry on. She didn’t think she’d have been as understanding in their place.

Glancing at the time, she decided to take a shower before bed. Then afterwards, she made herself a cup of chocolate. She picked up Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice, a book she had read several times but never tired of. She read a chapter and then, feeling her eyes droop, switched off her bedside lamp.

She was drifting off to sleep when she thought about Meg asking if Donal had been in touch. Then her mind turned to going over the horrible recent incidents. She thought about the note and its warning about her making threats. Well, she had threatened to tell Donal’s boss he was harassing her. So now he was warning her off.

She sat bolt upright in the bed, her somnolent state shattered.

She lay back again but couldn’t quieten her mind and, as she tossed and turned, she went down a tunnel of dark memories. Her dreams were nightmarish and confused. It was a relief when her alarm clock sounded in the morning.

Chapter 7

The next week passed in a frenzy of activity. Philip gave her a lot more work, which was great, as it meant he rated her. But she could see that Toby had his nose put out of joint. He had hoped for the McMahon business, which landed on her desk. He gave her an engaging smile that she knew was as fake as her handbag and offered to help if she felt overwhelmed. Iris and Kate were fighting back smirks as she thanked him for his generous offer but said she’d thought she’d manage. Hannah caught the sarcasm even if Toby didn’t. She hoped Hannah wouldn’t hold it against her that Toby wasn’t getting all the plum jobs.

On the social front, she joined the gym close to where she lived. Kate had recommended it as her boyfriend often worked out there. The staff were helpful, but once they saw she knew what she was doing, they let her get on with it. Over the weeks, she recognised the regulars who went from work straight to the gym like her. It pleased her that it attracted nearly as many women as men. It felt like a safe, friendly environment. She had also booked a few yoga sessions in the Health Centre and put her name down for squash. Perhaps someone from the gym might fancy a game sometime. All in all, she was feeling more optimistic. The anonymous postal deliveries continued to be a niggling worry. She still wasn’t sure they had come from Donal. If it was him, how had he managed to get her address? Well, she had passed it on to a few people. Meg naturally, but also a few friends and her previous employer so they could forward any mail to her. Could one of them have told Donal? It seemed unlikely.

Apart from her apprehension when she checked her post-box each evening, all was well in her world. She finally believed that she was moving forward. The loss of her mother still reduced her to tears at odd moments. Sometimes, when something nice happened, her immediate thought was to tell her mam all about it, and then she would remember, and sadness would grip her tightly. But she felt that she was starting to live her life and find pleasure again in the small things, like exercising and meeting the girls at work for a drink or a trip to the cinema.

It had been two weeks since she last received the disturbing missive, and she was hopeful that if it were from Donal, he would have realised that she wouldn’t talk to his boss unless he continued to harass her. A spring was in her step as she ran up the stairs to her flat. Her post-box contained only a postcard from Meg. She made tea and glanced at the postcard. It was from Berlin. Why did the sky in postcards look so impossibly blue? Even the ones from Ireland that she saw in the local post office were lush and dazzling. Meg had packed the maximum words into the space on the back of the card.

Getting lost in Meg's shiny, sunny world was wonderful, especially when the skies outside her window were grey and venturing outside without an umbrella was foolish. It made her long to plan a holiday. She’d see what was available online. It would be late spring before she could go anywhere, but it would be nice to dream. Perhaps Lana would like to go with her.

She was getting ready for bed when she heard it. The sound of a child crying. It was coming from outside her flat. She was surprised because, as far as she knew, the flats were occupied by single people or couples, and she had never seen any children. Maybe it was a visitor to one of the apartments. She shrugged, got into bed, and was soon asleep.

A loud banging on her door awakened her. She sat up in bed, her heart racing. The hammering continued unabated. Pulling on a dressing gown, she ran to the door barefoot. What time could it be? Her phone was somewhere in the kitchen and she never wore her watch to bed. Glancing through her balcony doors, she could see it was pitch dark. The banging continued, but now she heard the screams of a baby and a woman's voice pleading to be let in.

Paralysed with fear, she stood at her door. What should she do? The woman sounded terrified, and she couldn’t just ignore it. She had to do something. Steeling herself, she unlocked the door. Puzzled, she looked out into the hallway, and it was empty. But then she noticed a package on the ground. She bent down to see.

He came out of the shadows, a balaclava obscuring his face. Before she could react, he grasped her by the throat and she was dragged backwards into the flat. He kicked open the door of her bedroom and threw her on the bed, where she lay incapable of movement. Everything slowed down, and he seemed to stare at her for an eternity. That was when she opened her mouth to scream. He hit her twice across the face, and the scream died in her throat.

‘Please, don’t hurt me,’ she begged through frozen lips.

He lay down on top of her, and she felt his hot, sour breath on her skin through the mouth-hole of the balaclava. He ran his hands roughly over her body. Her arms were trapped, and she lay helpless underneath him. His masked face was inches from hers. His eyes bored into hers. He sighed, and she felt something cold rest against her cheek. With horror she realised it was a knife.

‘I have money, it’s in my bag in the kitchen, take what you want, but please don’t hurt me!’

The masked man continued to stare at her silently. She couldn’t drag her eyes from his. They were hard eyes, small and vicious. He was going to kill her. She believed it and started to pray, to call on her mam to save her. He grasped her hair, pulling her head upwards. Her hands were still trapped under the weight of his body. Still staring into her eyes, he took the knife and held it against her neck. She gulped and felt the cold knife slide along her throat. Something warm trickled down her neck. He’s going to kill me now, she thought.

Suddenly, he rolled off her, and roughly turned her over on her front and grasped her hair, pulling it tight. Horrified, she heard a sawing noise and realised he was cutting her hair. The pillow absorbed her sobs, and she waited to die. Then his weight was off her, and she realised she was alone.

Sobbing hysterically, she slid to the floor. She heard the flat door slam. But she still couldn’t trust that he was gone. She sat quaking with terror, desperate to get to her phone in the kitchen and yet afraid to leave the relative safety of her bedroom. But eventually, carrying her bedside lamp with her as a weapon, she walked into the kitchen. The flat was empty. With trembling hands, she checked that her door was shut and that the snib was in place. She found her phone lying on the kitchen counter and dialled 999. Her sobs made it difficult for the operator to understand her, and she forced herself to breathe and calm down. It took a few attempts before her dried-up mouth would cooperate. She asked for the gardaí. When she was put through, she managed to give her address and explain something about what happened. Although if any sense was made of her sobbing, hiccupping account, she didn’t know.

Chapter 8

The gardaí arrived. Two officers, a man and a woman. They were very kind and waited patiently until she calmed down. The woman held her hand and spoke soothingly while the male officer made tea. He had sweetened it, which she disliked, and, although she appreciated his reasoning regarding sweetened drinks and shock, it was impossible to drink. The female officer introduced herself as Garda Maureen Collins, and her colleague was Garda Shane Owens. He took notes while she explained to Collins what had happened. They checked outside for the package on the ground, but it was gone. They promised to check for fingerprints the next day and asked if she would be willing to have her prints taken for elimination. Eimear knew this was probably a waste of time as she told them with a shiver that the hand gripping her throat was gloved. But the guards said it would be no harm to check. Collins asked if she wanted to be checked out in the hospital. She shook her head. Apart from the cuts to her throat and the red marks from the blows she had received, she was OK. If OK meant terrified and shaken to her core. When she’d looked in the mirror while she waited for the gardaí, she could see the fine line drawn by the blade on her neck. It still throbbed uncomfortably.

‘Look, you need to get that injury to your neck checked out,’ Garda Owens said. ‘I know it’s not deep but you may need a tetanus shot to be on the safe side. We’ll drop you off at the hospital. At the very least, someone will talk to you, and counselling will be available when you feel up to it.’

Rather than putting up any resistance, it seemed easier to give way, and she submitted to being taken to A&E. She had her wound cleaned. Thankfully, it was superficial and, after she got her shot, she was keen to get away from the hospital. The guards were very kind and dropped her back at the flat.

Collins asked if she had a friend who could stay with her. Eimear hesitated. She could stay with one of the girls from work. Kate was becoming a bit of a mate, but she feared everyone at work finding out. She didn’t want it to interfere with her job. That was the one space where she felt safe. Shaking her head, she insisted she would be fine.

‘Tell me, Eimear, did you notice anyone following you recently?’ asked Collins. ‘Have you been anywhere where someone might be able to learn your habits?’

‘I joined a gym a few weeks ago. But I never noticed anyone. I haven’t been talking to any one person in particular.’

Garda Owens broke in. ‘It’s beginning to sound opportunistic, but what is surprising is that nothing was taken and, apart from roughing you up, he didn’t seriously harm or assault you. You’re a solicitor – is there any possibility that a client might have a grudge against you?’

‘No, I’ve only been there a short while, and all my clients seem happy with my efforts on their behalf. But I reported a few things recently to your station.’

She listed all the ugly things that had happened to her over the last few weeks – the photographs of her, the anonymous notes and the damage to her car. She fetched the note and photos from her lockbox.

They looked at them and Garda Owens placed them in an evidence bag. ‘We’ll have them fingerprinted, but it's unlikely to be useful as most poison-pen writers know to wear gloves.’

‘Eimear, if the letter, the photographs, the vandalism of your car, and the attack are connected, it looks like someone has a serious grudge against you,’ said Garda Collins. ‘Can you think of anyone at all who has reason to want to hurt you? Of course, the other incidents may be unconnected to the attack on you, but honestly it seems an unlikely set of coincidences, and I’m not a great believer in coincidences. I think we’ll assume they are all connected. So, if you have any suspicion at all, tell me now.’

Eimear hesitated but made up her mind. ‘There is someone. My ex-fiancée and I parted on bad terms and, for a long time afterwards, he followed me around, sent me nasty texts and generally made a nuisance of himself. I reported him to the gardaí in Sligo, and he eventually got the message. He left me alone for weeks but, after my mother died in August, he called at my house and made a pest of himself. I threatened to inform his boss if he bothered me again. It seemed to have worked. It’s just that the note mentioned me threatening someone.’ Eimear paused. ‘You know what? Donal was a dick, but even he wouldn’t go this far. Besides, the man who broke in looked nothing like him.’

‘I thought he wore a mask?’ Collins said sharply.

‘Yes, he did, but his eyes were different, and even though he spoke in a whisper, it didn’t sound remotely like Donal’s voice.’

Owens stared at her intently. ‘So, Eimear, what’s your theory then?’

‘I don’t know, I really don’t. I’ve only been in Dublin for a couple of months. I hardly know a soul. I live a pretty quiet life – all I do is go to work, have occasional drinks with the ones from work, and go to the gym.’

‘What about your work colleagues? Have you any problems with any of them, the men or the women?’

‘No, I get on fine with them all. I’m not there long enough to have been a threat to anyone. It makes no sense.’

‘What about at the gym? Have you noticed anyone watching you or someone always hanging around when you are there?’ he said.

Eimear racked her brain. Usually, she wasn’t aware of anyone when working out—she was focusing on her programme. Try as she could, she had no memory of any unwanted attention, or at least no more than any young woman would experience. The trainers were all pleasant and professional. She never got any bad vibes from them. She shook her head.

‘Have you threatened someone apart from your ex? Is there a colleague who might perceive that you plan to get him or her into trouble?’

‘No, definitely not. Could this be a mix-up? Perhaps I’m being targeted by mistake.’

‘Or someone has deliberately set you up and made some thug think you are threatening their business. Does your firm deal with many criminal cases?’ asked Collins.

‘Again, no. Most of our work is compensation cases, probate, and conveyancing. We have a few clients with dubious reputations, but I don’t deal with them. Oh God, I don’t know! This is all surreal. I don’t have enemies. Donal is the only person I’ve fallen out with, and I can’t believe he’s behind this.’

The officers got to their feet.

‘I think you should find somewhere else to stay tonight, or get a friend to come here,’ Collins said.

‘Well, there’s not much night left, is there? It’s after five now. I’m not dragging someone over here now. Besides, I’ll soon be getting ready for work.’

Collins stared at her in concern. ‘Eimear, you’re not fit to go to work today. Take my advice and ring in sick. You need to take time to recover. What has happened to you is very traumatic. You must talk to people and get the support of family and friends. There is nothing to be gained by going to work and then getting overwhelmed and having to leave.’

Eimear nodded slowly. Collins was right. She looked at her hands, and they were still trembling. ‘Perhaps you’re right. I don’t want to get upset at work and have to come home, and I feel very shaken.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘OK, I’ll call in sick, but I don’t want them to know about this, at least not yet.’

Garda Collins walked to the door, followed by Eimear. ‘OK, and Eimear, when you feel up to it, come into the station to make a full statement. You never know what you may remember about the assailant. It's amazing what can suddenly pop into your head, which might just cast light on all these things happening to you. By the way, we’ve noticed you have some CCTV cameras in the foyer, and we’ll see if they can shed any light on the identity of your assailant.’

At the door, Shane Owens, who had been looking around the flat, joined them and said, ‘I’ve checked around the place, and I recommend you make a few changes to your security. For starters, you need a spy-hole, a chain so the door can’t be fully opened, and a deadbolt. Also, I’d recommend you secure your windows at night and bolt the balcony door.’

They fixed a time for her to visit the station and arrange for the flat to be checked for fingerprints later in the day. Then they said goodbye.

After they left, the flat echoed with silence. Eimear forced herself into action. She longed to clean the flat and strip the bed but knew she needed to leave things as they were until after the gardaí checked it.

She went into the bathroom and examined her hair. Peering at it in the bathroom mirror, she saw it retained its bob shape from the front. She positioned a hand mirror to see the back of her head. It looked horrible. A big hunk of her hair had been hacked close to the scalp. How in the name of God could she disguise it? She would have to go to a hairdresser and get it sorted, but it would mean cutting it very short.

She sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee until it was time to call the office. She told Iris that she had a stomach bug and wouldn’t be in to work until the next day and asked her to reschedule all her appointments. She forced herself to listen to Iris’s words of sympathy and then hung up.

Finding a hairdressing salon to fit her in when she wanted was difficult. They all seemed very busy. But eventually, at the fourth salon, she arranged an appointment for the next day. Great, she could get it sorted after work. In the meantime, she’d try to cobble a bun together, but it would look odd. Shit! What would the bastard do with her hair anyway? Would he dump it or keep it as a trophy? She felt sick at the thought of him perving over it.

She kept her appointment at the station, had her prints taken for exclusion and read over the statement she had made to the two officers who called at her flat. As she was leaving, she met Maureen Collins, who told her the security camera in the foyer of her building was being checked to see if they could identify her assailant. She promised to contact her when they had examined it.

After she left the Garda Station, she visited a locksmith’s and arranged for them to call and put in the additional security she needed. She was in luck, and they promised to call that afternoon. She hoped the gardaí would be finished checking for prints by then.

When she returned to the flat, she was met at the door by two officers who took her key and did their tests. They promised to be finished by two, so she took herself off to a coffee shop and had a sandwich. She didn’t feel like eating but realised she needed to keep her strength up. She got a call from the guards to say they were finished with the flat and would put her keys in the post-box.

When she entered the foyer, she noticed the discreet camera and hoped it would help. She was opening her post-box when a neighbour from the flat above her collared her.

‘Do you know anything about all the gardaí swarming around?’ he asked.

She shook her head, muttered something about having to make a call and fled upstairs.

Every surface in her flat seemed to be covered in powder residue. Sighing, she set to work, dusting down all the surfaces and sweeping all the dust into a dustpan. She wiped everything with disinfectant spray. When the kitchen and living area were restored to order and cleanliness, she braced herself to enter her bedroom. Flashbacks of what had happened here infiltrated her head, and she felt dizzy and sick with fear. She forced herself to strip the bed and put fresh sheets on it. But she wasn’t sure if she could sleep there again. It felt contaminated.

The locksmith arrived just as she finished cleaning. She sat on her couch and tried to read while he got to work. After he had left, she felt a bit more secure.

As the night drew in, she checked and rechecked the locks. At seven, she ordered a pizza. Her intercom buzzed, it was the pizza delivery service. She buzzed him into the building. But, even so, when he reached her door and knocked, she stood quaking behind it. Eventually, putting on the security chain, she peered out, and saw it was indeed the pizza delivery. She paid for her meal and locked up immediately afterwards.

She ate with relish; for the first time since her attack, she felt real hunger. She had a bottle of wine left over from the weekend. She sniffed it – it smelled bitter, but what the hell? She needed a drink. Besides, the pepperoni would disguise the taste. She watched a little TV, couldn’t get caught up in any of the plots but continued watching. She didn’t want to have to face going to bed yet.

Eventually, at midnight, she knew she’d have to get some sleep, or she’d be useless at work in the morning. Gritting her teeth, she walked into the bedroom. It looked immaculate; she had dressed the bed in her favourite duvet and squirted perfume around the room. But when the time came to go to bed, she stood frozen at the bedroom doorway. Over and over, she kept reliving the horror of the night before. The weight of the man’s body, his mean little eyes, the sour smell of sweat, the pain of his hand on her throat and the terror that he would kill her. Stifling a sob, she backed away. Then she marched back into the room and pulled the duvet and pillows off the bed. She couldn’t face the room tonight. Instead, she made up a bed for herself on the couch.

Before she lay down, she squirted some of her mother’s favourite perfume on her pillow. Mam will keep me safe, she told herself. Amazingly, it worked, and she slept soundly the whole night until the insistent ring of her alarm pulled her back to the conscious world.

Chapter 9

Fixing her hair was challenging, but whatever magic was in her mam’s perfume continued to work wonders. A new strength and resilience coursed through her. She wasn’t going to let the bastard who attacked her rob her of her peace and turn her into a fearful victim. Tonight, she would sleep in her room and to hell with him. She was pleased when she completed her hairdressing attempts and had the perfect excuse for styling it that way should anyone enquire. The next step was dealing with the marks on her neck and face. The ones on her neck she could disguise with a scarf, and she piled on a copious amount of foundation to cover the yellowing marks on her face. Now, she was ready to face the world, or at least the office.

When she arrived, Iris was the only one in. She was at the reception desk, turning on her computer and checking for messages. She did a double-take when she saw Eimear.

‘Jeeze, girl, what happened to you?’ she said.

Eimear grinned. ‘I had a small accident with the curling tongs and had to cut a lump out of my hair to free myself. But don’t worry, I’m going to the hairdresser to get a cut after work.’

‘Aww no, I liked your bob. What are you going to do with it?’

‘I’m getting it chopped short. I’m bored with this style anyway, so no harm done.’

‘Are you over your stomach thing?’

‘Yeah, I think I ate something dodgy, but I’m OK now. Were the clients OK with rescheduling my appointments?’

‘Yeah, in the main, but that old devil Harrison groused, so I’m afraid I booked him in at five. Is that OK?’

‘No bother at all. What’s the rest of my day like? Will I get lunch, or am I booked solid?’

‘No, you’re grand. Maybe you’ll take a shorter break, but it’ll work out.’

‘Thanks, Iris, you’re a star. See you later whenever I get my head up for air.’

Eimear was pleased with how she handled things with Iris, and because she was snowed under with work, she could avoid the others. She ate lunch at her desk or drank it as all she had was coffee until she found a packet of biscuits in the little staffroom. But she was pleased. The day was productive; she felt reasonably up-to-date.

Her evening appointment with Mr Harrison was trying, as he was one of those men who were only happy if they had something to complain about. He spent ten minutes complaining about the inconvenience of his appointment being cancelled, and even though she sorted out everything he asked her to, it seemed only to annoy him more. His was a face and a personality that only his mother could love. But eventually, he left, and she was able to finish up and say goodbye to Iris. The other solicitors and staff had already left.

She went to a fast food place and sat at the counter, eating slowly to pass the time until her hair appointment at seven. From the counter, she picked up a newspaper another customer had left behind. The articles interested her, and the time flew by. When she glanced at her watch, she realised she had only five minutes to get to the hairdresser. She had better hustle, or she’d be late.

The stylist was horrified at the state of her hair, and she was glad she had thought up her curling tongs story. They pored over some style books but, with the damage to her hair, it would have to be a pixie cut. Eimear sat nervously on her chair as hair rained down on the floor. She was afraid to look in the mirror and tried to keep reading her magazine.

The stylist tapped her on the shoulder.

‘What do you think?’

Eimear blinked. She looked so different. It was strange; she always had either long or mid-length hair. This was some change, and she discovered she liked it.

‘You have a look of Twiggy or Audrey Hepburn. What do you think?’

Eimear grinned. ‘I love it!’

She was shown the style from the back and sides and couldn’t stop grinning. Her head felt different and lighter; it made her feel younger and freer. Wow was the word that kept popping up. She had never really believed in the power of a haircut to transform. But she did now. Gathering her belongings, she paid her bill and left Louise, her stylist, a very generous tip. She smiled all the way back to Rathmines.

The reaction at work the next day gave her an added ego boost. It didn’t hurt to see the admiration in Toby’s eyes. Philip was gallant and of course the girls exclaimed over her hair and regaled her with disasters they had suffered at the hands of hair-styling appliances. The change in her cut had the advantage of making her feel different. With this brave new cut, she could take on the world.

She was determined to make a few changes. For starters, she wasn’t going to act like a victim. She was going to take action to preserve her safety. When she got home tonight, she’d pop over to the fitness centre and sign up for a self-defence class. If she was in America, she could probably buy a gun. But the idea of having a lethal weapon in her home made her shiver. No, she would take sensible precautions, and hopefully the gardaí would have identified the man on the CCTV cameras. Before she left work, she would try to find out if they had any news for her. Garda Collins had given her a number to call.

The rest of the working day flew by and, just as she was about to leave, her phone rang.

It was Garda Collins.

‘Well, how are you feeling today, Eimear?’

‘I’m on the mend, but I still feel shaken up. Do you have any news for me?’

‘We went through the camera footage. We do have an image, but it’s difficult to identify him. I thought we would drop over tonight around nine and show you the stills from the camera. But I wouldn’t hold out high hopes of identifying him. Still, it’s worth a try. Does that time suit you?’

‘Yeah, that’s fine, but I could drop by the station on my way from work to save you a trip.’ Eimear was worried about uniformed guards being seen at her flat again. She didn’t want to have any more inquiries from her neighbours.

‘No, it’s fine. We have to be in the area anyway. So see you then.’

Eimear’s previous optimistic mood dissipated somewhat. She felt a sense of nervous anticipation. It was doubtful that she would recognise the man who entered the building. Perhaps he was wearing the balaclava when he arrived, in which case identification would be impossible.

After getting off the bus, she hurried into the flat and grabbed her gym clothes. Ten minutes later, she was pounding her stresses out on the treadmill and exhausted herself lifting weights. Her body was slowly getting accustomed to her workouts, though she ached in places she didn’t realise she had muscles. But her head felt clearer, and the feeling of strength buoyed her up. She signed up for a programme of self-defence classes, and the positive feeling stayed with her until she was outside her flat door.

She hadn’t changed the locks to enter her flat. Now, she wondered if she should. She was more concerned about someone breaking in while she was in the flat, rather than when she was out. But perhaps it might be a good idea to do it anyway. The locksmith who had installed a deadbolt on the floor and a bolt on the top of the door had been puzzled by her need for so much internal security, joking that he thought this was a nice area to live in. She smiled inanely at him, unwilling to explain the need for so much internal security.

Once inside, she put on the safety chain and bolted the door top and bottom. Then she had a hot shower and made herself something to eat. She was reading when she heard the buzzer sound.

Recognising Garda Collins’ voice, she buzzed her in.

When they got to her door, she looked through the peephole and rechecked it was them. She felt a bit foolish, but she needed to establish this as a routine.

When she let them in, Owens commented on her new security approvingly.

‘I’m sure that will give you some peace of mind. Always check who is outside and make any tradesmen show their identity card before you fully unlock the door.’

‘Don’t worry. I’m taking extra care until you catch the man who attacked me. So, do you have any news for me?’

She offered them a seat, and they refused tea.

Maureen Collins smiled at her encouragingly.

‘I can’t say we’ve got anyone in the frame yet, but as you suspected, the only prints in the flat belonged to you and one other person. They were everywhere, so I assume they were from a regular visitor who stayed over, not the assailant.’

‘Yes, they would be my aunt’s – she stayed with me when I moved in. She’s the only person who’s been here. I’m only starting to get to know people.’

‘Is it possible that the person who previously lived in this apartment was the intended target?’

‘God, I never thought of that. I suppose it’s possible. I’ll check with the landlord.’

‘Don’t worry about that – we’ll make enquiries on your behalf. OK, as I told you when I spoke on the phone, we have isolated an image of a man entering the flat at two in the morning. As you know, the foyer door is operated by a buzzer for security.’

‘Oh god, so someone buzzed him in. I’m so stupid. He couldn’t get in unless he buzzed one of the flats.’

‘We have no way of telling who let him in. So we plan to call on all your neighbours to discover if their flat was buzzed on Tuesday night and if they allowed access to the building and why.’

‘I know you must do this, but could you please not say I was involved? I’ve just moved here and don’t want to be an object of talk or speculation.’

‘Don’t worry, we won’t mention you. Do you know how many flats are occupied?’

‘I’m not sure. There are ten post-boxes with names attached and two blank ones, so I assume those are empty flats.’

‘Great, well, it’s just after nine, perhaps my colleague could do a quick visit to as many flats as possible and see if he has any luck. It’s not too late, and you said there are no children in the building, so I think it would save time if he does it now.’

Eimear nodded, and Garda Owens left to make his enquiries.

Garda Collins put a manila envelope on the table, removed two black-and-white images and passed them to Eimear.

The pictures were fuzzy. In the first one, a man wearing a hoodie obscuring most of his face could be seen entering the building. The second image was slightly clearer; in this, he was heading for the stairs, but he kept his head down and very little of his face could be seen. Eimear sighed. It was impossible to recognise anyone from this.

‘Is he familiar? Perhaps you’ve seen someone like him in the gym?’ Collins probed.

‘No, it's no use. I’m sorry.’ Eimear’s hand shook as she stared at the man who attacked her. She felt sick.

‘OK, no problem. There was only a slim chance that you’d recognise him. He waited to put on the balaclava until he got to your door, but he was careful when he entered and left the building to keep his face hidden from the CCTV cameras. Look, you’re as white as a sheet. Why don’t I make us both a cup of tea while we wait for Shane to return?’

It turned out that Maureen Collins was entertaining company. She was from Longford and, although only in her mid-twenties, a mother to two kids. They bonded over their shared love of Bruce Springsteen – both had been to see him when he played in Dublin.

When Garda Owens returned, he had little to report. He had spoken to six of the eight occupants, and no one admitted to letting the man in. He told Eimear that he would check the remaining apartments later.

‘One young lad did admit that sometimes he buzzed in people late at night who claimed to have forgotten the door code. But it isn’t too hard to watch someone putting a code in, so the guy could have got the code just by waiting around and pretending to tie his shoelaces. It’s not exactly a complex code, is it? And people are careless. So we’re no further on.’

And on that disheartening note, the gardaí left.

Chapter 10

It had been nearly two weeks since she had spoken with Meg. Of course, there were lots of texts and pictures of the various cities she travelled to, but she missed seeing and hearing from her. When Meg Facetimed her on Sunday, Eimear had been having a particularly low day. Seeing her aunt’s friendly face lifted her spirits. She felt sorely tempted to confide everything that had happened to Meg. But that would be selfish. She would insist on coming back to stay with her. It wasn’t fair.

Because she was hiding so much from Meg, the call felt awkward and stilted, at least on her side. But she was determined to protect Meg from all the drama in her life. There was nothing she could do, so it felt cruel to alarm her.

Meg looked happy. The sun had given her skin a nice glow, and her brown hair was lightly streaked with grey. At home, she seemed slightly dowdy but looked younger and prettier with her sun-bronzed skin and sparkling eyes.

‘Wow! I love the new hairdo. It’s very chic. I didn’t know you planned such a dramatic change. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve had long or mid-length hair.’

‘Aww, I just felt like a change. I was bored with my bob and decided to go for a radical change. Do you really think it suits me?’

‘Absolutely – it’s very young and cool.’

‘Thank you!’

‘Any nice plans for next weekend?’ Meg asked.

‘I plan to head home. I thought I’d make a start on sorting out some of Mam’s things.’

‘Aww, pet, don’t be doing that on your own. Time enough for that when I come back from my travels.’

‘I need to go home. I haven’t been back since Mam died, and I think I need to do this. But I’m only going to make a start on clearing things. When you come back, we can finish sorting things out.’

‘OK, but make sure you arrange to have friends about you. Grief can be overwhelming.’

They didn’t speak for a while, both silently thinking of their loss.

Then, to lighten the mood, Eimear said, ‘Enough about that – your last postcard was from Berlin. Where are you now?’

Meg grinned. ‘Well, I’m nicely fixed up here in Copenhagen. I got a wee job house-sitting for an English couple who moved here to be close to their daughter, who married a local. I get free accommodation – all I have to do is feed their fish and water their plants for the next week. Eimear, you have to visit this city. It’s so fabulous, full of art and culture. You’d love it!’

‘And handsome Vikings,’ Eimear added.

Meg laughed a deep, rich chuckle and winked at her. Eimear experienced such a wave of longing for her aunt that it caught her breath. She looked so much like her mother. The same wavy hair and dark eyes and the same way her nose crinkled when she smiled.

‘What’s wrong, love?’

Eimear forced herself to grin. ‘I’m grand, keeping busy – and I took your advice – I’ve been joining things, right left and centre. I go to the gym four times a week and have joined a fitness class.’ She decided not to mention the fitness class was self-defence. She didn’t want to arouse any concerns with her aunt. ‘Aren’t you proud of me?’

‘I’m more than delighted, but I notice none of those things you mentioned involve social activities. I hope you’re making friends.’

‘I am. The girls at work are lovely, and I plan to go out for a drink with two girls I met at the gym during the week. Then, I’ll head to Sligo to check out the house and meet up with a few college mates, too. So, you don’t need to worry about me.’

Meg grinned at her. ‘I know I’m an awful nag but, now that Claire is gone, I feel that I should keep an eye out for you for her sake.’

‘I miss her so much.’ Eimear’s voice cracked, and she went silent.

‘I know love, so do I. She was some woman. There was no one like our Claire.’

‘You’re so right. Mam was a true original. Do you remember the time she took up flying? Gran and I were so worried about her. But she was brilliant and so proud when she got her licence. I can still see her grinning from ear to ear as she waved it at us when she came home. I think it was her happiest moment.’

‘No, love, having you was her happiest moment. I can tell you that. You meant the world to her. As much as she loved your dad, Gran and me, you always came first with her.’ Meg smiled reminiscently. ‘I remember when she told me she was expecting you. She was so excited. But then, of course, poor James was diagnosed with cancer almost as soon as she discovered she was pregnant.’ She sighed. ‘Still, he hung around long enough to see you start primary school.’

Eimear nodded. ‘I wish I could remember him better. I have only a few memories of him reading to me and playing with me. But at least I have those.’

‘Yes, it’s wonderful that you had those years with him. Those were precious years for me, too. I was so young when you were born and, as soon as I saw you, I was mad about you. So, Eimear, never forget that. And if you ever need me, I’m there instantly.’

Eimear laughed. ‘Good job that all is well with me then. So enjoy Copenhagen and the handsome Vikings, and keep sending me postcards. I love getting them. My fridge door is a sea of sunshine and blue skies, but I still have room for a few more.’

In the background, Eimear heard Meg’s doorbell. ‘OK, Meg, I’ll let you get that. Bye.’

As she stared at the dark screen, Eimear felt desolate. After her call with Meg, the weight of loneliness oppressed her. It was ridiculous, but she really was alone. While she dated Donal, she neglected all her relationships, and he didn’t encourage her to keep in touch with friends. He jealously guarded their time together. At first, she had been flattered that he was so besotted with her. When what friends she still retained tried to warn her that he was too possessive, she cut them off. She wasn’t proud of the way she had behaved. She accused them of being envious that their boyfriends didn’t care so much about them. She blushed when she remembered how she had acted. She was lucky that a few stalwarts like Lana and Alec had held fast, waiting in the wings until needed.

She might be married to him now if it weren’t for his silly mistake. He had sent her flowers for her birthday, but when she opened the card attached to the bouquet, it said, For Susan with love. Of course, he blamed the florist for the mistake but, although she said she believed him, it awakened her suspicions, and she wondered about discrepancies in things he said.

But one day everything became clear. She was out trying on wedding dresses. Meg and her mam were with her. They had narrowed it down to a style that suited her and made an appointment to call back to the shop the following Saturday. Claire suggested they drive to the new hotel on the outskirts of town to celebrate their successful day. It was early, so they managed to get a table. They had a lovely meal, and Eimear was happy when she left the hotel.

As she was crossing the carpark, she spotted Donal’s car. She flew over to greet him. Then she saw that he wasn’t alone. A girl with masses of curly brown hair was in the front seat. She couldn’t make out her face as Donal was kissing her. She stopped, frozen with shock, beside the car.

When he finally noticed her, he flushed bright red and jumped from the car as if the seat had burned him. He stared helplessly at her.

The girl opened her car door and came to stand beside him. She smiled boldly at Eimear, saying, ‘Come on, Donal love, why don’t you introduce me?’ When Donal gazed at her dumbly, she beamed and said, ‘I’m Susan, nice to meet you.’

Those few words were all it took to shatter Eimear’s illusions, finally.

Eimear backed away from the car. Donal came after her.

‘Wait, Eimear, please, let me explain!’

She stopped and stared at him. ‘Well, explain it to me, Donal. Explain why you're snogging a girl while I’ve been spending the day trying on wedding dresses for our wedding?’

He was only a few feet from her, but it was as though they were separated by continents. He looked foolish and pathetic somehow, not the strong, confident man that she’d thought loved her and wanted to make a life with. He looked guilty – like a small boy caught out in wrongdoing and shamed by being caught.

‘So, you have nothing to say?’

He continued to stare silently. Then he moved towards her and tried to touch her hand. She reacted as though he had scalded her.

‘Keep away from me, Donal. We’re finished.’

‘Eimear, love, whatever is the matter?’ Her mam reached her side, her face creased with concern.

‘Why don’t you ask him?’ she shrieked and burst into tears.

She was dimly aware of her mam and Meg leading her away, her body unresisting and with no volition of its own.

The following days passed in a dull blur. She refused to see him. Mam took her engagement ring from the bin where she had flung it, parcelled it up, and posted it back to him. Meg cancelled all the wedding plans.

Donal recovered his energy and kept up a barrage of phone calls and texts, and banged on the door of her mother’s house night after night. She couldn’t bear to see him. Her mam and Meg guarded her. Her friends called around, but she was too ashamed to see them. She had made her choice and chose Donal over them. She felt she didn’t deserve their comfort now.

Meg told her she was foolish, cutting off her nose to spite her face. But Eimear couldn’t bear to be an object of pity. She was just grateful that the preparations for the wedding were so recent that she hadn’t even chosen bridesmaids.

But Donal was persistent, if nothing else. One night, he pushed past her mam and insisted on seeing her. Claire stood guard and refused to leave as he begged Eimear for a second chance. He said that nothing had happened between him and Susan. He claimed she was obsessed with him, and he was flattered by her attention. He even had the gall to suggest that he wouldn’t have glanced at another girl if Eimear had been a better girlfriend. Eimear, he insisted, had made him feel insecure. That was when the final scales dropped from her eyes, and she saw him for who he was. She told him she never wanted to see him again. Her mam finally managed to hustle him out the door. She could still see the impotent fury in his face when he realised he couldn’t change her mind.

But his campaign continued. He sent flowers, cards, and letters to her home and workplace. Mr Holland was very understanding, but seeing Donal’s car across the street was unnerving when she left the office in the evening. She had to change where she went for lunch because he constantly showed up. Her mam and Meg went to see him, warning him that if he continued harassing her, they would inform the gardaí. Even then, he persisted. He followed her car, parked outside the house and tried to talk to her whenever she was in town. She was frightened of him. Now, she was grateful that he had been unfaithful to her as she shuddered at the thought of being trapped in a marriage with him.

His sister Jen, who also happened to be her best friend, was caught in the middle. But blood won out, especially when Eimear threatened to report him to the gardaí. They had a colossal row, and a decade-long friendship was ended. Even at Claire’s funeral, Jen didn’t break her silence. Eimear was surprised that she had even turned up.

In the end, she went to Alec. She told him everything and showed him the pile of cards, letters and texts Donal had sent her. She listed all the times he had accosted or followed her. Alec took notes and he went to visit Donal. He warned him that if he persisted in harassing Eimear, they would encourage her to take a barring order out against him. It worked for a few months, but then she saw him waiting in his car outside the restaurant when she went on the first date since they had broken up. She had no interest in dating, but Meg persuaded her against her better judgment. She told her that sitting around brooding on Donal was bad for her and she could do with the ego boost of a date. So she went. The guy was nice, flatteringly attentive, but there was no spark. It was too soon. Donal followed her and her date back to her home. The poor guy she was with was freaked. Even more so when Donal threatened him. That was the last straw. Eimear called Alec, and he started the process of the barring order. But she couldn’t quite go through with it. Instead, she left the paperwork ready should Donal continue to harass her.

Could there be a connection between what happened with Donal in Sligo and what was happening to her now? OK, her assailant wasn’t Donal, but he could have hired some thug. It all seemed far-fetched. Besides, she thought Donal would never pay someone to do his dirty work, would he? But he did like the idea of keeping her under control. He might even get a kick from sending her the photos and the threatening letter. But the other things, the damage to her car and the attack on her seemed unlikely somehow. Surely Donal couldn’t hate her enough to set that animal on her. Could he?

Chapter 11

Work was intense, and she had a new client. His name was Tommy Brennan. He was a small, dapper man dressed like he was about to attend a wedding. There was nothing casual about him. He spoke in short, clipped sentences and stared just past her shoulder when he talked to her. His accent was hard to place, but there was a hint of Glasgow somewhere.

He told her he had been referred to her by a friend but couldn’t recall his name. Despite his short, sharp sentences, he took quite a while to come to the point. The point eventually was that he wanted to contest his mother’s will. He claimed that she had been subjected to undue influence by his sister, and she had received the bulk of the mother’s not inconsiderable estate.

‘Miss Martin, it’s not the money. I’m not short of a few bob, but I don’t particularly appreciate being made a fool of. My sister thinks she can have everything her way, and, well, I want to teach her a lesson.’

‘I see, Mr. Brennan. Could you tell me all the relevant details, and I’ll give you my opinion?’

Brennan looked at her incredulously. ‘I don’t care about your opinion. I want you to bring this to court, whether you think it’s a good idea or not.’

Eimear stared at him, perplexed. When she read over her notes, she doubted he could win and was bewildered by his motivation for bringing the case.

‘Mr Brennan, before we proceed, I have to tell you that your chances of winning this case are small. If we involve a judge and brief lawyers, costs could go against you.’

‘That’s OK, I’m not short of money.’

‘But even if you win, the legacy will have disappeared in lawyers’ fees.’

‘Look, are you prepared to take this on or not?’

Eimear sighed. ‘I will do my best for you, Mr Brennan.’

‘Right, now I’ve got a few men in mind to represent me in court. I’ve dealt with them before, and they did the job.’

She stared at him when he mentioned the names of two top barristers. Could he be serious? She excused herself for a few minutes and popped into Philip’s office. He whistled when he heard who her new client was. She explained the lunacy of the lawsuit.

Philip grinned. ‘Well, fools and their money are soon parted. But at least we know he can pay up, and he must have something against that sister if he’s willing to blow a fortune to keep her from inheriting. But go for it, girl. His business will be a feather in our cap, and you never know he might pull it off. But this is only the tip of the iceberg. He could bring us a fortune in business. The main thing is to keep him happy.’

‘I feel sorry for the sister,’ she muttered.

‘We’re not counsellors, Eimear. We’re here to fulfil our clients' wishes and give them sound advice, which you did. But they don’t have to accept it.’

Eimear returned to Tommy Brennan and took down a few more details. When she was finished, they arranged another meeting and shook hands. She walked him to the door.

Toby was at the front desk talking to Iris when they passed. When she had seen Brennan off, Toby whistled. ‘Was that who I think it was? The notorious Tommy Brennan, aka Tommy the Terminator.’

‘Why do you call him that?’

‘Because he’s notorious for bringing cases against anyone he perceives to have crossed him. He’s got deep pockets, so he can keep appealing cases until his opponents run out of money. He’s made quite a few people regret ever having crossed his path. Whoa, well done for snagging him!’

‘God, he sounds like a vindictive ghoul.’

‘Don’t let Philip hear you saying that. You’ll be the golden girl for bringing him in. How did you manage it?’

‘He claims I was recommended to him, but it makes no sense; most of my work has been low-profile. And he won’t say who gave him my name.’

‘Whoever it was, they did you a favour. You owe them a pint. Look at the time. It’s heading home time. How about we go for a drink and celebrate you bringing in Mr Moneybags?’

Eimear wasn’t sure she wanted to go for a drink with Toby. They got on alright, but she caught him watching her once or twice with a calculating look in his eye. He saw her as the competition. John Kirk, the other solicitor, stuck to what he did best and, although ambitious, he was a bit dull and preoccupied with his little family. But Toby was keen to succeed. Eimear wondered if he was still pursuing Camilla Jolly. It was a dangerous game because Philip was a protective father and, if he thought Toby was messing with his girl, he would make his displeasure felt. But what the hell, she didn’t fancy a long night at home and decided to accept his drink offer.

‘OK, give me a chance to finish my notes, and I will join you for one.’ She turned to Iris. ‘Do you want to come along?’

‘No chance. I have a date with a pizza, and I’m getting out a nice mushy film and then having a long soak. Maybe next time.’

When Eimear joined Toby in the foyer, she saw Hannah glaring at them.

‘Hey, Hannah, do you fancy joining us?’ she asked.

Hannah snapped, ‘No, I have plans.’

Eimear glanced at Toby. He shrugged and held the door open for her. Surely Hannah couldn’t be jealous of her and Toby?

The pub was packed, and they were lucky to find seats. Toby fetched the drinks, a gin and tonic for her and a pint of Guinness for him.

At first, they chatted about their favourite films and books they enjoyed, and Toby enthused about sports. He played Gaelic at the weekend with a few mates but missed the competitive side of things.

‘I wasn’t good enough to progress, but my mates and I still train and compete in a lower league. It keeps me fit, and it’s good craic to meet up with the lads I went to school with. What about you, Eimear? What do you do to amuse yourself?’

‘Well, I go to the gym regularly and, recently, I’ve taken self-defence classes.’

‘Ooh, should I watch my p’s and q’s with you or risk lying on the flat of my back if I step out of line?’

‘I shouldn’t worry too much, Toby. I’m just starting, so you're not in too much danger from me.’

Toby leaned in, placed his hand lightly on her knee, and squeezed gently.

‘Maybe I wouldn’t mind being on the flat of my back beside you.’

Eimear stiffened and pushed his hand away. To his credit, he got the message, but she was unnerved to see the nasty expression on his face when she rejected him. She was disappointed in him for trying it on with her. He had moved uncomfortably close to her and he now awkwardly withdrew, giving her more space.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hannah and a guy she guessed was her boyfriend, Paul, at the bar and waved to them. Hannah stared sourly at her. Eimear felt a flash of irritation. Who did Hannah think she was giving her dagger eyes? Even if she was interested in Toby, it was no concern of Hannah’s. She had a bloody boyfriend. Irritated, she glanced at her watch. She picked up her bag.

Toby noticed. ‘Hey, you’re not leaving already? The night is young.’

‘Sorry, Toby, I’m bushed. I’ll buy you a pint, but I can’t stay.’

‘Nah, get me some other time. It’s probably time I made tracks, too. After all, tomorrow is a work day, and I need to up my game now that you're attracting wealthy clients.’

‘Don’t be silly, Toby. He’ll probably realise how junior I am and decide he wants the boss to take over. Right, I’m off.’

Eimear waved to Hannah when she was leaving, but the girl blanked her. This was annoying. She had got on with Hannah and found this jealous act hard to deal with. It brought back memories of Donal, and she didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about him.

On the bus home, she debated going to the gym. It didn’t close until ten, and she could have a workout to clear her head. But, when she got off the bus, the thought of walking to and from the gym in the dark made her nervous. She cursed the bastard who attacked her for robbing her of her peace of mind. But the seed of fear had been planted, and she decided to pick up a Chinese takeaway instead and lounge in front of the telly. The thought of the food cheered her up. The nearest restaurant to her flat wasn’t far, so she called in and made a substantial order. Anything she didn’t eat tonight, she’d have tomorrow.

The food in its aluminium containers smelled so good she felt giddy with hungry anticipation. It lived up to its promise, and she ate so much that her stomach hurt slightly. She spent the rest of the night watching forgettable television and dozing off. At midnight, she awoke feeling cold and smelling of Chinese food. Unable to face clearing up the mess from her meal, she left it until the morning. She filled a hot-water bottle for her bed. Soon, the warmth of the bed and the fullness in her stomach made her drowsy.

She was about to fall asleep when she sat up, worried she had forgotten to bolt the door. After getting out of bed and reassuring herself that it was indeed bolted, she was wide awake again. Lying in bed, she tossed and turned all night, but sleep eluded her.

Chapter 12

Tommy Brennan proved to be a major pain for Eimear. He was demanding, impatient and, at times, completely unreasonable. But Philip was keen that she keep him happy, and even though she knew his case was ridiculous and vindictive, she had little choice but to pursue his agenda. That agenda appeared to be making his sister’s life a living hell. What did she ever do to him in the name of all that is good and holy? But hers not to reason why but to proceed with his instructions, and letters flew back and forth between all parties involved.

Hannah was like a frost descending whenever she came into the room. She spoke to Eimear only when necessary and then as briefly as possible.

In exasperation, Eimear snapped at her one morning after she was particularly Baltic. ‘Look here, Hannah, have I done something to offend you? You’ve been short with me lately.’

‘I don’t know what you mean. Are you complaining about me again?’

‘What the hell, Hannah? When have I ever complained about you?’

Hannah tossed her mane of blond hair and rolled her eyes. She was about to head for the door when Eimear called her back.

‘Listen, Hannah, I don’t know what you think I’ve done to you. But come on, let’s talk about it, and I’m sure we can sort it out.’

‘I have work to do, Miss Martin, so if you don’t mind I better get on with it. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Mr Jolly.’

She turned and left the office, closing the door with exaggerated care. Eimear returned to her desk. She was baffled. She and Hannah usually got on, at least until recently. OK, she didn’t know her as well as Kate and Iris, but they could pass the time together and have the odd natter. What was rattling her cage?

The only thing she could think of was that Hannah was jealous of the time she had spent with Toby. But that was nuts. How did she make it clear to the silly mare that she was about as interested in Toby as she was in watching paint dry? And why on earth was Hannah implying that she had complained about her? She had never spoken to Philip Jolly about Hannah or anyone else. It made no sense. There must be an explanation somewhere. It occurred to her that Iris or Kate could shed some light on Hannah’s odd behaviour. She decided Iris was the best person to approach. With that in mind, she invited her for lunch in the Snuggery.

The place was crowded, but Iris spotted two seats near the door. It was chilly, but they had somewhere to sit and eat. They ordered, and Eimear let Iris chatter about her plans for the weekend. Eventually, she managed to bring the conversation around to work.

‘Iris, have you noticed anything strange about Hannah? She’s being really cool with me, and I was wondering if something is wrong. Like, if she thinks I'm making a play for Toby. I mean, are she and Paul still together?’

‘I think the romance is still going on, and she’s certainly not mooning about Toby, so maybe she’s over her crush. But honestly, I’ve been swamped at the moment, and we haven’t had a good chat in ages. But it’s not like her to be cool. If upset with you, she’d be more likely to have a stand-up row than give you the cold shoulder. Our Hannah doesn’t have many filters.’

‘Well, I can’t understand it. I tried talking to her this morning, and she implied that I had complained about her. I assume she means to Philip.’

‘Well, did you?’

‘Of course I bloody didn’t. I mean, Hannah is a bit erratic at times, but I’ve no complaints and, anyway, I’d have spoken to her first if I had a problem with her work. Where did she get the idea that I’ve been complaining about her?’

‘Look, leave it with me, and I’ll get to the bottom of it. Now, tell me, what you are up to for the weekend? Do you have any nice plans?’

‘I’m heading home to Sligo. Philip is letting me rearrange clients so that I can get away early. You know what rush hour is like on a Friday. I’ll be an age leaving town if I wait until five-thirty. If I can persuade my afternoon appointments to reschedule, I’ll get away just after three.’

‘Well, good for you. Is there anyone of interest in Sligo, a lad who is pining for your return?’ Iris teased.

Eimear flushed as Donal’s face flashed before her. ‘No one at all. I’m a free agent and not looking for anyone either.’

‘Focusing on the career then. But, Eimear, don’t forget to have a little fun. It doesn’t do to be too consumed with work. Live a little, girl.’

Eimear laughed, and the conversation turned to other things.

The rest of the day flew by. Her clients were agreeable to being changed. She packed up her belongings and headed for the small car park at the back of the building. It was shared with the accountant next door, but she drove in early that morning to ensure a space. She had packed lightly because she still had most of her clothes at home. It was weird to think of the house in Sligo as home, now that her mam wasn’t there to share it with her. But Eimear was determined to face up to things, and there was nothing like returning to an empty house to make her accept the enormity of her mother’s death. Her new job and her worries were a distraction from dealing with her grief.

Despite getting away before rush hour, the drive out of the city was still hectic, but soon the open road lay ahead of her. She fiddled with the radio stations, looking for music or news to distract her from her thoughts, but no matter how she tried, her mind fixated on the nightmare events infiltrating her world.

At night, thoughts and memories stole her sleep. When she closed her eyes, the man with the pebble eyes glared down at her, and her chest tightened, and she felt as though she were drowning. At least during the day, the busyness of work acted as a distraction. But driving freed her mind to endure all she wished she could escape. She struggled to shake off intrusive thoughts but, even when she succeeded, they were replaced by the deadening pain of grief. Her heart ached for her mam.

It had been months since she had last been home. At seven, it was dark, and for the first time in her memory, there wasn’t a light glowing in the house. It looked abandoned, and sadness and weariness fell over her like a heavy coat. She was reluctant to leave the warmth of the car, but it had to be done.

She took her holdall from the boot of her car, unlocked the front door, switched off the alarm and rapidly turned on as many lights as she could to dispel the gloom. There was plenty of oil in the tank, so she turned on the heating. It would take an age for the house to heat up, and she debated lighting a fire, but the thought of going outside in the cold and dark for coal deterred her. She carried her bag upstairs and turned on the electric blanket in her bed. She stared across at her mam’s room but couldn’t bring herself to open the door. That could wait till morning. She realised from the rumble in her stomach that she was hungry.

In the kitchen, she found some bread in the freezer, which she could toast. There was hard cheese in the fridge that she could melt over the bread. It would be warm and comforting, and also, in the freezer, she found a packet of sausages. She defrosted them in the microwave and popped all six under the grill. She was thankful that she had the foresight to bring a pint of milk from her flat. It was still nice and cold from the car boot. So, she had all her dietary needs taken care of.

When she carried her meal into the living room and switched on the TV for company, she felt comforted, if not cheerful.

She enjoyed watching a detective show and surprised herself by getting lost in the story. It was a long time since television had proved much of a distraction. Mam loved her TV shows and always tried to find something they could both enjoy. Eventually, they settled on Morse, and Eimear and Claire both fell a little in love with the irascible detective. She remembered how her mother cried at the final episode's closing scene. They both had. They had watched and enjoyed the series' spin-off Lewis but, as much as they enjoyed it, Inspector Morse was king. Mam wouldn’t read any of Colin Dexter’s Morse novels because she always wanted to try to puzzle out the villains by herself. She never did, but she enjoyed Inspector Morse's mental dexterity.

At eleven, Eimear headed upstairs. Her bed was warm and cosy, and she switched off the blanket. She read the final pages of Pride and Prejudice. It never mattered to her that she knew the ending. She just loved the characters and the world Austen created. If she was an Austen character, who would she be, she wondered? She wished she was like Elizabeth Bennet, but she had a feeling that the only trait they shared was poor judgement of people. On that thought, she fell deep into sleep.

Chapter 13

She had forgotten to draw the curtains, and the morning light woke her. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was nearly nine. She sprang out of bed. There were lots of things to do. First, she needed to pick up groceries. It would be a good idea to buy some provisions to freeze for future visits. Her meal last night, although filling, was neither healthy nor really to her taste. Then, she would tackle the task she came home to do. She would set about going through her mam’s clothes and belongings.

The local SuperValu provided her with everything she needed for the weekend. She bought pork chops and vegetables for dinner and stocked up on soups and sliced bread that she could freeze later. While queuing for the till, she met one of her mam’s friends, Mary Boyle. She squeezed Eimear’s hand and told her how she missed Claire, and she hoped that now that she was home, she would call over to the house.

‘In fact, why not come for lunch on Sunday?’ she suggested.

‘I’d love to, but I plan to head back to Dublin on Sunday.’

‘How early? We can do lunch for one and have you on the road well before dark, if that suits you. Alma and the boys would love to see you. What do you say? Can I count you in?’

Eimear was torn. Her mam had liked Mary, and meeting up with the Boyles would be fun. They had lost touch since secondary school, but she had always liked Alma, and her brothers were good, solid lads. But she had hoped to get away early on Sunday. Then she could almost hear Meg urging her to reconnect, and she thanked Mrs Boyle and said she’d love to come for lunch.

Back at the house, she put the groceries away and tidied up the breakfast things. She put on a wash as the laundry basket in her room was full of dirty clothes. She put it on a fast cycle and hoped that if she put the clothes on the drying rack, they would dry in the warmth of the house. She put the heating on again, as she wanted to be warm when tackling her mam’s bedroom.

When she could no longer put it off, she went upstairs with half a dozen black bin bags. Stepping inside the room, she could still smell the faint fragrance of her mam’s perfume. It rooted her to the spot. She wasn’t prepared for how her mam’s room hadn’t changed. The bed was made, but her mam’s nightdress peeked out underneath a pillow. It still smelled of her. As she sat on the bed, holding it close to her face and inhaling the scent, she felt the tears prickle in her eyes. Replacing the nightdress, she walked over to the dressing table. Claire loved cosmetics; the table was cluttered with all her lotions and potions. She opened a jar of face cream and could see the indent of her mother’s finger. Hurriedly, she replaced the cap.

Pulling open the wardrobe, she was again enveloped in the scent of her mother. But this time, she was prepared. She lifted armfuls of clothes out and threw them on the bed. Mam was a dedicated fashion-lover, but she had honed her style. She was a tall, slender woman who loved the feel of clothes. Quality mattered to her, and she bought infrequently but carefully. Her colour palette was simple; she wore greens, olives, and browns but also loved splashes of orange. Eimear was surprised to discover how many shoes she owned. There must be at least fifty pairs; almost all had a high heel. Once, she had confided in Eimear that although heartbroken by the death of her husband, at least now she could wear high heels. Eimear’s dad was a short man, and Eimear took after him. She was only just over five feet. Staring at her mother’s beautiful clothes, she realised none would fit her. She could take the hems up, but the waist would be in the wrong position. They wouldn’t suit Meg either. Meg wasn’t much taller than her, and the clothes would swamp her.

Eimear reckoned the charity shop in town would be doing very well. She filled five bin bags with coats, dresses, blouses, scarves, and jumpers to donate to Vincent de Paul. The one thing of her mother’s that she could wear was her beautiful cashmere coat. It was camel-coloured, and although long on her, she could easily have it taken up without altering the style. The shoes, sadly, were too large, but maybe they might fit Meg. She set some shoes, scarves, and a pile of jumpers aside for Meg to try on. She wondered if Nuala would like a keepsake. Her clothes would never fit Claire’s old school friend, but perhaps she’d like something else. She made a mental note to contact her.

Mam had a lot of jewellery, all gifts from her father. To Eimear's knowledge, Mam never bought herself a piece of jewellery. She would offer Meg her choice. She spotted the little gold St Brigid’s cross that Claire put on almost every day. Eimear tried it on, and this time the tears poured down. She had considered offering it to Meg, but it had such associations with her mam that she knew she could never part with it. But the thought of wearing it was too painful – maybe someday she’d be able to put it on without crying. She put the little cross in the zipped pocket of her handbag to take back to Dublin.

There, she had done enough. Her tummy started to rumble and, although it was a little early, she decided to see about preparing a meal. The thought of spending any more time clearing her mother’s room was unbearable. But at least she had made a start on the things that had to be done. She’d go through the rest of her mother’s belongings when Meg came home. Meg had planned to be away for three months, which meant she’d be home by early December. Perhaps they could book a week in the sun in Tenerife or Lanzarote and escape Christmas altogether. Mam was like a child about Christmas. Meg said it was because she had only one child and wanted to make it as magical as possible.

She forced herself to eat at the table in the dining room. It wasn't easy because it reminded her so much of her mother and how she liked to set the table carefully and often lit candles. Her mam insisted on using cloth napkins, which Meg and herself found silly as it made for washing and ironing. Meg teased, calling her Lady Claire, but Mam just smiled and said why shouldn’t I take trouble over all the people I love? So Eimear set the table with the best dishes and crockery and took a linen napkin from the drawer in honour of her mam. It was a pity the food didn’t live up to the setting. But it was adequate; the meat was a little overcooked, as were the vegetables. But Eimear ate every bit.

After clearing up, she sat listening to the music Claire loved. She was an opera fan, and Pavarotti's dulcet voice filled the room. Eimear closed her eyes and lost herself in the glorious voice. She had been drifting off to sleep when she heard the loud ring of the front doorbell. The sound was insistent. She looked at the mantelpiece clock, and it was nearly eleven. Who would be calling at this time? Nervously, she got to her feet and stood uncertainly in the hallway. There was no peephole, so she couldn’t see who was outside. She had been asleep, so she had no idea if a car had driven up to the house. Could it be the neighbours? They lived a quarter of a mile away but might have been concerned if they saw the lights in what they knew to be an empty house. Meg had asked them to keep an eye on the place. The ringing sounded again. Arming herself with one of Mam’s golf clubs which sat where she had last left them in the porch, she opened the door.

Chapter 14

Donal stared at her out of the gloom. She started to shut the door, but he managed to stick his foot inside. He was tall, and she was slight, and he could push his way inside. Her heart was hammering against her chest. But she was determined not to let him know that she was frightened of him.

‘What are you doing here, Donal? You know there’s a world of trouble for you when you come here. Meg and I made that perfectly clear. If you clear off now, I’m willing to forget this ever happened.’

‘Eimear, please, I just want to talk. I never see you on your own; from the moment things went wrong with us, your mother or that aunt of yours have kept us apart.’

As he spoke, he glanced at the golf club in her hand. She tightened her grip.

‘That thing that went wrong between us was you seeing another girl while we were engaged. And you managed to try to blame your unfaithfulness on me. So I’m really not interested in what you have to say.’

‘OK, OK, you're right; I know I was out of line. I’ve thought about it. I should have admitted I was wrong, but I didn’t want to lose you. Can’t I come in, and we can sit down and talk things over? I want to explain.’

‘Well, I have no interest in hearing your explanation. Look, Donal, it’s over; it’s been over for months, and I now realise that we were never right together. You messed around with that girl – well, you did me a favour. It made me see that we would never have worked. So, no hard feelings if you go now.’

‘Please, Eimear, I still love you. The other girl was a mistake. I admit I was totally in the wrong. Can we start again, and I’ll show you I’ve changed?’

‘Donal, I don’t want to start again. I don’t love you – in fact, I’m heartily sick of you. I wish we had never met. Now get out of my house, or I’ll make sure the guards and your boss know that you are making a nuisance of yourself again.’

Donal’s face reddened. ‘So you’re still making threats, are you?’

Eimear stared at him. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, you fucking bitch, that I’m sick of you threatening to lose me my job.’

Each word was said slowly and viciously, and his spittle hit her cheek. Gone was the wheedling, apologetic manner. This was the real Donal.

Seeing the look on her face, he backed down again.

‘Aww, Eimear, why do you do this to me? You wind me up, and I say hard things. I want you to understand we’re meant to be together – someday, you’ll see that I’m right, and then you’ll be sorry.’

Her heart pounded, and her fingers were slippery with sweat as she clutched the golf club tightly. ‘Please go. Can’t you just accept that we’re over?’

‘If we’re over, why do you keep trying to involve me in your life, Eimear? All these lies you’ve been telling your pet cop about me. Is it some coded way of telling me not to give up on you?’

She stared at him in disbelief. Nothing had changed. When she broke it off with him, he had blamed her for his infidelity, and now he was suggesting that she was so anxious to get him back that she was inventing stories. In his warped mind, everything he did wrong was her fault. He stood there immovable, determined to make her turn back the clock. He was beyond reasoning.

She felt a suffocating sense of panic. What if he wouldn’t go? She was all alone here. Her body started to tremble. It took all her will to control it. She believed he would force his way in if he knew how terrified she was. She held his gaze.

‘Donal, I’m tired. You need to go now. Please go!’

He showed no sign of moving, and then she had a moment of inspiration. She looked past him and shouted, ‘Hey, come here! Now! I need you!’

Donal spun around, and she used all her strength to push him out the door. It only worked because he was slightly off balance. She slammed the door and bolted it. She listened to him hammering on it as she picked up her phone.

She called Alec.

He was with her in minutes. She paced the floor while she waited for him to come. Barely waiting for him to get out of his car, she rushed to explain what had happened.

He led her back inside and they sat side by side at the kitchen table.

‘OK, Eimear, this is an escalation; we need to frighten him. He’s been warned about the consequences of approaching you and chooses to ignore it. We gave him a chance to do the right thing, and now it’s time to take serious action. I’m going to visit him at work and inform his employer that he’s been harassing you, and in the meantime, we’ll stop him from approaching you or contacting you.’

‘But suppose he loses his job and blames me? Oh, Alec, I’m worried. I’ve been getting threats in Dublin.’

Trembling with emotion, she told him about the threatening letter and the attack in her flat. He listened, horrified.

‘Eimear, do you think this is related? Do you think Donal is behind this?’

‘I don’t know, it seems mad. The man who broke in wasn’t Donal. It seems difficult to believe that he hired someone to attack me and how could he give them access to my flat? Hardly anyone knows where I live. I don’t know what to believe.’

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me all this before now? I thought it was just the photographs, and that was bad enough. This is seriously disturbing behaviour.’

‘I know, I should have contacted you, but the guards in Dublin seemed really helpful. I didn’t want to keep bothering you. I told them about Donal and they know that I’ve complained about him to the guards here in town. And I suppose I’ve been unwilling to believe Donal could be responsible for all these things that have happened to me. Eimear ran her hands distractedly through her hair. ‘Do you know, he even had the cheek to suggest I’ve been making up things to keep him part of my life?’

‘The man is clearly deluded,’ said Alec, shaking his head. ‘Right, this is what’s going to happen. Tomorrow morning, you visit the station and make a statement about what happened here tonight. Then you put the gardaí in Dublin in touch with me, and we can see if there’s any connection between what happened in your flat and Donal.’

‘OK, that makes sense.’

‘Now, do you have anyone to stay with? You can’t be on your own tonight.’

Eimear promised to call a friend to come and stay. He told her to turn the alarm on when she went to bed, and then he left. After he had gone, she locked up and set the alarm. She thought about ringing Lana or one of the girls from school. They would be happy to keep her company. But the thought of going through everything that happened with them made her feel sick. Besides, it would get back to Jen, and she didn’t need Jen contacting her on Donal’s behalf. It was simpler to stay shtum and let Alec handle things. She put a chair against her bedroom door handle. The radio kept her company until she eventually fell into a deep sleep.

In the morning, she visited the station and made a statement. She was asked if she wished to proceed with the barring order. She nodded her agreement.

Back at the house, she packed her car. She rang Mary Boyle and explained that she had a stomach bug and couldn’t come for lunch. Then she set off for Dublin.

Chapter 15

She arrived just after two. Her head ached from tiredness and yet she felt restless. She had a long day to get through but didn’t risk napping in case she couldn’t sleep at bedtime. She didn’t want all this chaos to affect her work. Her life was messy enough as it was. Around and around in her head, she tried to figure out who was responsible for all the sinister things happening. It had to be Donal. There was no other explanation. But although she believed him capable of violence, she just couldn’t see him outsourcing it. But after last night she felt really scared of him. It was a relief to have made her statement at the local Garda station. She hoped that Alec would put the frighteners on Donal and that he’d finally wise up and leave her in peace. Alec mentioned that he’d also have a word with Donal’s boss. He would hate that.

She opened her laptop and checked her emails. Then she emptied out her holdall and changed the sheets on her bed. There was nothing nicer than the feel of fresh sheets against your skin. She turned on the TV, but it failed to hold her interest. She felt restless as the day dragged on. The flat felt more like a prison than a refuge, and she was desperate to get out into the fresh air. It was a cold, damp day, but she preferred to be oppressed by the wide grey sky than the walls of her flat, which seemed to close in on her.

Outside, the gloom had intensified, and the damp seemed to seep into her bones, but still, it felt better to be free from the confines of her flat. As she emerged, she saw a woman, a runner, standing across the road, staring at her building. She wondered idly whether to take up running. The intensity of her workouts was beginning to have an impact, and her back and legs ached from all the punishment she was subjecting them to. Perhaps she should be more careful. She didn’t want an injury. When she crossed the road, the runner had left, and she could see her in the distance pounding her way towards the park.

Eimear walked briskly around the perimeter of the park. There weren’t many people, just a couple of runners and a woman with a pram. She put on her iPod earbuds and listened to Tina Turner. She needed that powerful, upbeat sound to lift her spirits. It worked. By the time she returned to her flat, she felt better or at least less defeated.

The next morning, the office was a hive of activity. She barely came up for air. The others were equally occupied, and at eleven she popped into the little kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. Hannah shot her a dagger look, and Iris looked uncomfortable and avoided her eyes. God, she didn’t need any more drama. There was no milk, so she took her coffee black. She couldn’t face passing the lobby and seeing Hannah, so she took a break sitting at the small table where the staff ate their lunches. Most people ate in the office from Monday to Thursday, and on Friday nearly everyone headed out to treat themselves to something tasty. She had enjoyed the Friday routine, and usually everyone except Philip went to the Snuggery or Lennon’s. It was a nice way to end the working week, but it made everyone sluggish on Friday afternoon and reluctant to work.

Glancing at the wall clock, she thought guiltily of the mountain of work that awaited her. Mr Brennan was coming in at two, so she had better be well prepared, or the old grouch would not quit moaning. She managed to scuttle back to her office, only to find Brennan installed. He wasn’t in a good mood, pacing up and down, looking at his watch and blowing a gale of sighs.

‘At last you deign to appear, missy. I’ve been waiting ten minutes.’

‘I’m sorry you’ve been waiting, Mr Brennan, but your appointment was for two. Look, I’ll show you.’

She opened the work diary and saw that Brennan’s two o'clock appointment had a line drawn through it and an arrow pointed to eleven. She stared at it, confused. She hadn’t changed the time.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Brennan, but there seems to have been a miscommunication. When did you reschedule the appointment?’

‘What are you talking about? You sent me an email and changed the time. It was a great inconvenience, but I agreed to your request. I rang that receptionist and told her how annoyed I was.’

‘One moment, please. I need to check something.’

As Eimear left him muttering about incompetence, she hurried to Iris at the reception.

‘Hey, Iris, do you know anything about Mr Brennan’s change of appointment time? He claims I emailed the change, and he spoke to you about it.’

Iris stared at her stonily. ‘Yes, he rang and harangued me for fifteen minutes about how he had to rearrange his schedule and how his time cost money. What’s the problem?’

‘The problem is I didn’t change the appointment time.’

‘Are you saying I did?’ Iris snapped.

‘No, of course not. I just want to find out where the miscommunication originated.’

‘Fine, I’ll pull up your emails. Put in your password.’

Eimear did so, conscious that Brennan’s mood wouldn’t improve with all this delay. Iris keyed his name into the search engine, and there, in deleted emails, she found the email sent to Tommy Brennan from her account. A rather curt one at that. Except she hadn’t sent it.

She stared at Iris. ‘I don’t understand. I never sent that email.’

‘You clearly did, and I put a note in your diary to remind you of the new appointment time. Are you accusing me of messing up?’

‘God no, of course not. I just can’t understand it.’

Eimear hurried back and the appointment went from bad to worse. She couldn’t find the document he had given her to study. She had planned to work on it this morning and have it ready for him in the afternoon. Where the hell was it? It had been on her desk when she left on Friday evening. He was incandescent, shouting about it being an original. She tried to calm him down but only seemed to inflame him further. He glared at her in exasperation and then stamped off, shouting abuse at her and demanding to see Philip Jolly.

‘What’s the point of talking to the monkey when it’s the organ grinder I want?’ was his parting shot.

Luckily, Philip was out, so Brennan stormed out. The force he used to slam her door shook her office and the reception. She stood staring at the closed door.

There was a gaggle of excited chatter in reception, which ended abruptly when she entered. Hannah pointedly turned her back. Iris pretended to be looking through files.

‘Iris, I can’t understand what happened. I didn’t send that email.’

‘Are you accusing me of sending it? I don’t have your password, so you needn’t mind blaming me for your cock-up.’

‘Come on, Iris, I’m not blaming you.’

‘Then what are you doing? You can try complaining to Philip, but the girls will back me up. I never changed that appointment; if you forgot, that’s your lookout. I put the reminder in your diary; all you had to do was look for it. Is there anything else you want to blame me for? No? Well, I have work to do.’ With that, she picked up the phone and proceeded to punch in a number.

Eimear stared at Iris in confusion. Why was she being this way? Usually, Iris was her ally, always sympathetic. Why was she behaving as if she had done something terrible to her?

In the afternoon, things got worse. Philip had returned, and Brennan got to him before she could explain what had happened. He entered her office without knocking, his usually friendly face stern.

‘I’m very disappointed with you, Eimear. It was unprofessional to change appointments without filling the staff in and leaving them to deal with a client’s annoyance.’

Eimear tried to explain what happened, but Philip raised his hand.

‘Eimear, you’re a little too fond of sending emails. You complained to me about Hannah’s work, and now you're trying to get Iris into trouble for your mistakes. The poor girl is very upset.’

Eimear stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘I never said a word about Hannah. I’ve always found her work good, and I certainly don’t blame Iris for what happened. I’m baffled by it all. Please can you show me this complaining email?’

‘Fine, come along to my office now.’

Silently, she followed him into a spacious chamber that she had only seen once, and that was when he interviewed her. He tapped on his computer, and she looked over his shoulder. There was an email from her. It outlined several mistakes Hannah had made in preparing documents and suggested that she had a poor attitude to work.

‘I never sent this. Surely I would have spoken to Hannah first and talked to you in person if I had a complaint?’

‘I did wonder why you approached the matter the way you did. When I responded to your email, I asked you as much. In your reply, you explained that you had spoken to Hannah, but she was rude and unwilling to change her way of working, and you felt you had to progress the matter.’

‘I never spoke to Hannah about her work.’

‘So she told me, and I’m afraid I thought she was lying, but it seems you were the one lying, not her.’

‘Mr Jolly, I repeat, I did not send those emails. This is mad.’

Philip stared at her. ‘Sit down, my dear.’

At the change in tone, she slumped onto the chair before his desk.

‘I know your former employer, Frank Holland. He gave you glowing references, partly why you got this job. But Frank told me about your mother's death and the ending of your engagement, and he said the young man in question caused you a lot of trouble. He said he harassed you, and you were on the verge of getting a barring order against him.’

Eimear stared dumbly at Philip.

‘He wasn’t being a gossip and was genuinely concerned about you. But he recommended you for the job because you were an excellent solicitor and felt you needed a fresh start. He was very sorry to lose you. Now I think that maybe you needed more time to recover from the traumatic year that you’ve experienced.’

‘Everything you say is true but, Philip, I didn’t write those emails.’

‘Then who did and why?’

‘I don’t know.’ Suddenly, Toby’s face flashed across her mind. ‘Toby–’ The look on Philip’s face quelled her.

‘Are you seriously suggesting that a fellow solicitor would do such a thing? Who will you be accusing next? I recently spoke with Toby, and he very reluctantly said that the atmosphere has changed since you arrived to work here. It is no longer the convivial, happy office it had been. He mentioned that you are difficult to work with and inclined to be suspicious of offers of help.’ Philip hesitated and then, looking embarrassed, added, ‘He also said that you made a pass at him in the pub a few nights ago. When he rejected you, you stormed out.’

‘That’s a lie – Toby hit on me. He’s the one who was sore about my rejection.’

‘Please, Eimear, don’t let yourself down any further. Hannah saw everything and backed up what Toby said. In fact, he very reluctantly admitted that you have been giving him a lot of unwanted attention. He tried to let you down gently, but you were becoming more blatant and even inappropriate in your behaviour towards him.’

Eimear blushed red to the roots of her hair. ‘That’s bloody ridiculous and a total lie. I’ve never once shown him any more attention than I would to another colleague. Where is he? I want to hear him make those accusations to my face.’ Her body trembled with rage, and she knew that her raised voice could be heard in reception.

‘Calm down, Eimear, Toby is working with a client, and I will not have him disturbed. But he has reported hearing you speak most disrespectfully about everyone in this firm, including me. I confess that I’m very disappointed in you, Eimear.

Eimear gasped, struggling to interrupt. Philip raised his hand to silence her.

‘You need to understand that I run a happy ship here. We have always rubbed along well—that is, until recently. I don’t understand what is happening with you, but I can’t have it interrupting a contented and productive workplace.’

Eimear stared helplessly at him. Tears of frustration pricked her eyes.

‘Please, Philip, I need you to believe me. I don’t know what’s happening or who's playing tricks on me. But I never did or said those things.’

Philip sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘OK, Eimear. I’m willing to believe that you sincerely think you didn’t send those emails, but they could only have been sent by someone who had your password. Did you give it to anyone in the office?’

Eimear shook her head.

‘How about you take a few days off, see your doctor, maybe go on sick leave for a while and get your head together. I’m sure when you get the help you need, everyone will be delighted to welcome you back.’

‘If I take time off, it will be admitting I’ve done something wrong.’ She got to her feet. ‘And I bloody well didn’t.’

‘Eimear, I’m afraid you have no choice. I spoke to Mr Brennan on the phone, and he was on the point of terminating his business with us. I could only assure him that young Toby would do an excellent job and that I would personally supervise his efforts. He eventually agreed but insisted that he didn’t want to set eyes on you for the duration of his business with us. He showed me the email you sent him, and it was extremely abrupt. I think it would be better for the harmony of all concerned if you take a short break. Understand me, Eimear, I don’t want to sack you. Remember, you are still on probation. So take my advice and see your doctor and sort out whatever is causing this erratic and paranoid behaviour.’

Numbly, Eimear left his room. In her office, she sat staring at her computer screen. She couldn’t find any record of her sending those emails until she checked her deleted mail. There they were: the email to Tommy Brennan, which bordered on rude, and several more unpleasant ones she sent to Philip complaining about Hannah and even having a dig at Iris.

It made no sense. She never wrote those emails, yet they were all sent from her email account. She sat dazed at her desk. Despite all the chaos in her life, her job was the one sure place she felt safe. But now her boss thought she was crazy, and Hannah and Iris despised her. Who was responsible? Could Toby have got into her account? It was possible, but she was careful about her password and always turned off her computer whenever she left the office. What could have motivated him? Perhaps he was jealous because she impressed Philip with her work or hurt his pride because she rejected his clumsy pass. But to tell all those other lies about her, he must really hate her.

She tried to remember whether Donal might know her password. Stupidly, she tended to use easy-to-remember passwords relating to birthdays and the names of old family pets. Donal would know this, and she supposed he could have figured out her password by trial and error.

Or could Hannah be involved? But that was mad. She had never complained about her work. And yet the evidence was there that she had done these things. Eimear even began to doubt herself. Could she have done these things in some fugue state? Was it possible? It was true she was under a lot of strain. She looked again at her deleted emails. The phrasing in them didn’t sound remotely like her. They were almost comically formal, especially the one complaining about Hannah. There was an element of truth in the complaints; Hannah had a bit of an attitude when asked to do anything. But she rarely made errors in documents. She read the email.

I regret to inform you that Hannah has been responsible for numerous errors in documents she has been tasked with preparing. Her presentation of work to be sent to clients is slapdash. When tasked with redoing work, her attitude is surly and uncooperative. I regret to say she is sometimes rude in her dealings with clients.

Respectfully yours,

E. Martin

The response to Philip’s email asking her if she had spoken to Hannah about her work was even snarkier.

I have attempted to address these failings with Hannah, but she was unwilling to take constructive criticism, and her manner during our conversation was rude and disrespectful. I would appreciate it if you pointed out that this attitude toward her work can no longer be tolerated.

If it remains unchecked, I fear it will spread to other staff members. Iris has been a little short with clients lately, and although she is usually a good worker, I fear Hannah's example will influence her. I think this issue needs to be addressed in a timely manner.

Respectfully yours,,

E. Martin

She stared in disbelief. These emails were almost archaic in their formality. But they were written using her email. Someone with access to her password wrote them. She reread the emails. They all were signed off with the phrase, ‘Respectfully yours’. That was not how she ended her emails. She checked the one she supposedly sent to Tommy Brennan. It also used this sign-off. There was no way she sent those emails. She considered pleading her case again with Philip, but she didn’t think it would do any good. She closed down her computer and gathered up her few belongings.

The foyer was eerily quiet. Iris was at her post, pretending to be busy.

Hannah came out of Toby’s office, smirking with satisfaction.

‘Hannah, I know you think I’ve complained about you to Philip. But I promise you I didn’t and will prove it.’

Hannah just stared coldly at her. Eimear turned to Iris.

‘Please, Iris, you must believe me. None of this is true. What you’ve heard isn’t true –really, it isn’t. Please try to keep an open mind. Someone is playing tricks, and I promise I will get to the bottom of it.

Her voice wobbled dangerously, and she hated how pathetic she sounded. But she forced her head up and walked out the door into the cool afternoon air.

Chapter 16

It wasn’t until she got back to her flat, bolted the door, and put on the safety chain that she could finally release the tears of pain and frustration. She howled, kicked over a chair and smashed a plate. Then the storm was over. The thought of food was repulsive, and the only thing to drink was the dregs of a bottle of wine. She debated going out and buying booze in the local off-licence but realised she couldn’t afford to indulge herself. She was Claire Martin's daughter and would not let whoever was messing with her head win.

She wasn’t about to take Philip Jolly’s advice and see her doctor. That would be admitting that she was losing her mind. She knew she hadn’t written those emails. She would use the next few days to figure out how to clear her reputation. She was convinced that Toby was responsible for all this insanity. He had told Philip hideous lies about her. If he hadn’t sent the emails, he certainly capitalised on them. But as she brooded on exacting revenge on him, she wondered if everything happening to her was connected. On the surface, it seemed impossible. The notes she got arrived when she had only just started her job. She was no threat to anyone at work at that point. How could those letters and the attack on her relate to either Donal or Toby? Was it possible that she had two different enemies operating independently? Or more likely, working hand in hand to destroy her life. What did she do to incite such hatred?

Her head felt like it was melting. She wished she had someone to talk things over with. The only person that sprang to mind was Kate. Well, what about it? They always got on well – maybe she could convince her that someone was setting her up. But could she trust her? Kate had known Iris, Toby, and Hannah for years, so why would she take her word against colleagues she had known for years? Unable to deal with another rejection but unwilling to sit staring at the walls of her flat, she headed out.

Her self-defence class was at seven, so she had brought a change of clothes in her rucksack. It was just five now, but she was desperate for a change of scene, to be surrounded by people. There was a little pub not too far from where she had her class. It was quiet inside, and she found a corner at the back and ordered coffee and a sandwich.

She wished she had brought a book to read. After eating, she ordered a glass of beer and was determined to sip it slowly until it came time to attend her class. She found an abandoned newspaper and hoped it would deter any man from deciding it was his duty to save a poor female from her own company. It didn’t, but a few well-chosen words made the gallant men depart with muttered curses. The word ‘bitch’ currently seemed to be a popular one to describe her.

She left for her class a little early but was restless and needed to keep moving. The room where the session took place was chilly, and she shivered, but that would change once they were put through their paces. The instructor got her students to change partners regularly to keep things fresh.

At the end of the class, Eimear waited and helped Fiona, the instructor, put the mats away.

‘I’d like to do more classes; you just do the two here, right? Do you do sessions anywhere else?’

‘I do a few in the city centre in one of the community centres. It’s rough and ready regarding the facilities, but the class is smaller, so we get through more. If that suits you.’

‘Can you sign me up for two more sessions? It can be afternoon or early evening, at least for the moment.’

Fiona looked at her quizzically. ‘Is there any reason for taking all these classes? I mean, you’re not in any bother, are you?’

‘No more than any other woman,’ Eimear responded tartly.

Fiona nodded. ‘OK, then. So you do Mondays and Wednesdays here. What about Thursday evening and Saturday afternoon in town? You’re lucky, because I’ve had a few dropouts recently, so I have room. But I hope it won’t be too much for you.’

They finished clearing up, and Eimear headed back to the flat. She kept a watchful eye in case someone was following her, and when she reached her block of flats, she could see it was deserted. Thankfully, there was nowhere for someone to lie in wait out of sight. Even so, she walked briskly to the door, put in her code and ran upstairs. She locked her door and replaced the safety chain. She got a Coke from the fridge. Glancing at her phone, she saw a message from Meg asking her to Facetime at eight. It was closer to nine now, but she decided to try and see if she could get in touch with her. She was in luck, and soon Meg answered. Her face was even more bronzed, and she grinned happily at her.

‘OK, make me jealous and tell me where you are now?’ Eimear asked.

‘Not so far away. I finished my plant-watering duties and have come to Scotland. I’m staying in a little guest house in Edinburgh. Tomorrow I’m touring the city and the first port of call is the Castle, then on Friday I’m taking a train to London, and I’m staying with an old school friend, who is taking a few days’ holiday to show me the sights. I’ve been to London before when I was young with your mother, but it was a flying visit, and I barely remember what we got up to. I plan to do everything. But the good news is that I’m finally putting a halt to my gallop and hope to come home in the next couple of weeks. I’m so looking forward to seeing you and hearing all your news. And listen here, young one, I think I will have to feed you up a bit – you’re looking tired and peaky. I hope they’re not working you too hard.’

Eimear laughed. ‘I’m just exhausted listening to all your plans. But I’m delighted that you’re coming home soon.’

‘Do you remember when last we spoke about my coming home? I mentioned staying with you for a few days. Is that still OK?’

Eimear hesitated.

Meg noticed and added, ‘If it’s awkward, I can just head back to Sligo. The Taylors will still be renting my place, but I can easily stay with my friend Annie.’

‘Don’t be silly, Meg. Of course you can stay with me here in Dublin as long as you like. I have that sofa bed, and I’m in and out so much we’ll be like ships that pass in the night. Then, if your renters are still in situ, move into Mam’s house. I’m hardly ever there, and you can make yourself at home.’

‘I may take you up on that, but I’m so glad you’re getting out and about. That’s what I hoped for you. When I stay over, I will pay for my keep by preparing tasty meals for when you come home every evening. Honest to God, Eimear, I’ve put on so much weight, all my clothes are about to fly off me. But the food was so good, I had to do it justice. I’ll enjoy trying out some new recipes on you.’

They chatted for a while, and then Eimear pretended she was expecting a call, and they said goodbye.

She was glad Meg was coming home but fervently hoped she would be back at work by the time she arrived. It made it imperative that she sort things out as quickly as possible.

Meg was coming home. The thought that she would have an ally, someone she could trust and rely on and open her heart to, eased her misery. But fond and all as she was of Meg, she wouldn’t be of much help. Apart from a friendly ear, she would have no solutions to offer, and she’d only be someone to worry about. The idea of Meg fussing over her would be an irritant rather than a help. Perhaps by the time Meg had returned from her travels, she’d have got to the bottom of all the chaos surrounding her.

Chapter 17

Thursday was a work day, but not for her. She knew it was important to keep busy, so she sorted through her laundry and put on a wash. But she couldn’t stop her thoughts, and the events of the previous day played in the movie theatre of her mind. Her cheeks burned as she recalled the anger and contempt in the eyes of Iris and Hannah and the look of pity on Philip’s face as he told her she needed to see a doctor. Shame washed over her body in a burning wave. She surrendered to it, slumped on the couch, and buried her face in a cushion. Then she visualised her mother scolding her, urging her to get up and show some backbone. She almost heard her say, ‘Feeling sorry for yourself never fixed anything’. Feck it, she wasn’t a quitter, and there was no way she was letting her life be ruined. Today, she would keep busy and go for a brisk walk, followed by a workout in the gym. Then she planned to contact Kate. She had to find out what was happening at work. Clearing her name was a priority.

She dressed and walked briskly around the park for an hour, and the fresh air worked magic. The park was a popular running spot, mainly men today, but she spotted a lone female. It was the woman she had seen outside her flat a few days ago. She had a strong, almost mannish build with muscular legs, and she could certainly run. Maybe she should take up running too. She certainly had the time. Exercising hard made it harder to be plagued by intrusive thoughts. And maybe whatever thoughts she did have would be more focused and less inclined to wander down avenues in the past that didn’t need revisiting. The runner glanced at her as she ran past. Their eyes met briefly and, for a moment, she thought the woman hesitated as if she were about to stop and greet her. Then she was gone, pounding down the path. Eimear turned and looked after her, for some reason feeling slightly uneasy. She shook the feeling off. She was becoming paranoid. A woman merely glanced at her and she felt threatened? Now she was imagining threats where none existed.

She turned and walked on.

Back at the flat, she checked the time. It was ten minutes to nine. Kate would be in the office now. She pictured her settling down to deal with all the legal work the firm sent to her. She rang her mobile. The phone rang out for so long that she was about to give up, certain Kate didn’t want to speak to her.

But then Kate answered. Her voice sounded guarded.

‘Hi Kate, this is me, Eimear. Can you talk?’

‘Give me a minute. I’m busy right now, but call me back in ten minutes.’

Eimear was relieved that Kate was at least willing to make contact with her. Impatiently, she waited for the time to elapse and then called again. This time, Kate answered promptly.

‘Kate, listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you’ve got to hear my side of things, please.’

She could hear Kate’s even breath and, after a pause, she spoke.

‘I’ll tell you what has been told to me. Hannah says you’ve been going behind her back to complain about her work; Iris says you cancelled an important appointment with Brennan and then pretended you hadn’t and tried to blame her for your mistakes. Philip doesn’t confide in the likes of a lowly paralegal, but Toby said that a lot of your work was shoddy and that you tried to steal his clients, and that you are always bitching about us to him. Is that close enough?’

‘Kate, none of that is true. I need to talk to you to explain. I want to clear my name.’

‘Eimear, I like you. But I’ve known the girls and Toby for three years – why should I take your word against theirs?’

‘I’m not asking you to, but I would like to meet and explain my side of things.’

Kate was silent for so long that Eimear feared she had hung up.

‘OK, I’ll meet you tonight after work. But not the Snuggery or Lennon’s. There’s a pub on the corner, just past the traffic lights on the left-hand side – do you know it? I think it’s called Hughes, and we can talk there.’

‘Thank you so much, Kate. I really appreciate it.’

‘Don’t be too grateful; you're buying the drinks. I’ll be there shortly after half-five. OK, got to go now.’

She hung up with renewed hope. If Kate was willing to see her, there was a chance she could sort all this madness out.

Eimear tidied the flat, did some household tasks that needed doing, and when everything was spick and span, she changed into her workout gear.

The gym was quiet. Not too many people worked out so early in the day. She noticed the runner from the park lifting weights. Eimear was impressed as she was lifting heavy weights effortlessly. The woman suddenly turned her head and stared at her. Eimear hurried past. There was something odd about that woman.

She went through her usual routine but pushed herself a lot harder. It had the effect of quieting her mind. When she returned to the flat, she took a long hot shower to help ease the aches from her workout and washed her hair. Getting it cut short had been a good idea; it was much easier to manage, but today it made her feel like one of those shriven women, punished for consorting with the enemy. She applied make-up to rid herself of this self-image and instantly felt better. Mam always said that putting on a bit of lippy was akin to getting into a suit of armour. With the right shade of lipstick, a girl was ready for anything.

A wave of ravenous hunger almost floored her. She hadn’t eaten since the night before, and a glance in her fridge and cupboards didn’t offer anything to tempt her. It was time to get shopping and stock up on provisions. She had been eating too many takeaways recently, which had to stop. It wasn’t healthy, and she needed all her wits about her.

The supermarket, like the gym, wasn’t busy. She picked up a few lamb chops and some fresh fruit and vegetables and stopped by the drinks section where she picked up a bottle of vodka. She knew it probably wasn’t wise to keep drink in the flat, but then again, why not?

When she returned to the flat, she put away the groceries, stuck the chops under the grill and cooked a few veg. She hadn’t the patience to wait for spuds to cook, so she made do with extra carrots and broccoli. She forced herself to eat the meal slowly. It tasted good but she found her mind kept drifting off to dark places.

After her meal, she cleared up. There were still a couple of hours until she was due to meet with Kate. Finding the flat oppressive, she decided to head into town early. Luckily, she remembered to take a change of clothes for her self-defence class later that evening. Fiona had given her directions, and the class was at seven. So when she finished meeting Kate, she could head there straight away.

She caught a bus into town and wandered around the shops until it was time to meet Kate. It didn’t take long to locate the pub. It was handy for Kate, near the office, and she’d pass it on her way to the bus stop. It was a small, proper local pub; most clientele were elderly men. She found a table at the window and ensconced herself there.

Kate arrived at a quarter to six. Eimear waved to her, and Kate joined her. She ordered a G & T for Kate and a slimline tonic for herself from a passing barman. Kate raised her glass in salute and took a sip. She looked uncomfortable, and Eimear noticed that she avoided eye contact.

‘Well, I suppose my name is dirt at work,’ she said to break the ice.

‘You could say that. Eimear, what were you about? I never thought of you as underhanded. I mean, anyone can forget an appointment. But blaming Iris was out of order.’

Eimear flushed. She wanted to rush into an angry denial but knew she had to use reason and logic to explain what happened and make her case.

‘OK, I can see why Iris might have felt I was blaming her, but it was all a confusion. Look, I’ll forward you the emails I supposedly sent to Brennan and the ones to Philip when I supposedly complained about Hannah. The sign-off is completely different when you compare them to other emails I’ve sent. I always end an email with ‘Kind regards, Eimear’, but these are signed, ‘Respectfully yours’. I only sign that way in formal letters – if ever. Why would I suddenly start doing that in an email?’

‘So what are you saying? That someone else using your email address sent emails purporting to be coming from you. Why in the name of god would someone do that to you?’

‘I don’t know, Kate, but I need to find out.’

Kate didn’t look convinced. ‘What about all the bitching you’ve been doing to Toby about us. He says you’re nice as pie to our faces but sniggering about us when we’re out of earshot.’ She glared at Eimear, her brown eyes sharp with suspicion.

‘I can only say that that is completely untrue. If anyone is making nasty comments, it’s Toby. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard him making little digs about Iris and Hannah. I know you have.’

She could see that she had given Kate pause for thought.

‘Are you suggesting that Toby sent those emails just to get rid of you?’

Eimear sighed. ‘I wish I could but, although Toby would like rid of me, I don’t think he’d go that far. He’s just taking advantage of the shit I’m in. But you should have heard the things he said to Philip about me. He accused me of sexually harassing him, behaving inappropriately and making a pass at him. Come on, Kate, you know I have no interest in Toby; there’s no way I’d have been perving over him as he suggested.’

‘Well, he certainly thinks he’s irresistible to all women. But I know that you’ve never shown any interest, at least not openly. I admit that carry-on doesn’t sound like you.’

‘Well, thanks for that, Kate, a sex pest I’m not.’

‘So, if you don’t think Toby is behind the emails, who are you accusing? Iris, Hannah, me?’

‘Kate, I’m not blaming anyone but, you see, there’s something you don’t know.’

‘Well, tell me, Eimear, if you want me to understand.’

Eimear hesitated and then, taking a breath, briefly described everything that had been happening to her and even mentioned Donal.

‘Christ, that’s a lot.’ Kate stared at her. ‘Have you contacted the guards?’

‘Yes, I have, but they are having difficulty getting anywhere. Do you believe me?’

‘Eimear, I don’t know what to believe. Do you think all these things happening at the office are connected? Do you think it's your ex?’

‘I honestly don’t know. But how did someone get my email password?’

The two girls stared at each other. Then Kate looked at her watch.

‘I have to get a move on. It’s my turn to cook tonight.’

‘Kate, tell me, do you believe me now?’

Kate stared at her. ‘Put it this way, I don’t disbelieve you. But you have to admit it all sounds very far-fetched.’

‘I know, but all I ask is that you keep an open mind.’

The girls hugged awkwardly, and then Kate left. Eimear gathered her sports bag and headed to the community centre where her class was due to begin.

The class was much smaller than her usual one, and the women were friendlier. Fiona mentioned that for some women, defence classes weren’t just a precautionary thing but something they did to stay alive. It was a sobering thought. The women made her welcome, although they did slag her for her country accent. She left tired and happy.

She rang a taxi as she didn’t feel like a bus commute. The happy mood lasted until she stood at the door of her flat. Across the door, in red paint that dripped like blood, was the word BITCH written in block capitals.

Chapter 18

Garda Collins promised she’d be with her in less than half an hour, but Eimear couldn’t open the door and wait in the flat. She was afraid of what she might find inside. Instead, she leaned against the wall until the weakness in her legs forced her to sit leaning against the wall. There was another tenant in a flat on this floor, and she hoped they wouldn’t show up. She wasn’t up to answering questions from anyone except the guards. Eventually, closer to an hour than the promised half hour, Collins and her colleague Shane Owens turned up. They took pictures of the graffiti and asked if it was similar to the paint daubed on her car a month ago. Eimear wasn’t sure but thought it was likely.

Collins made her coffee and took some notes. She was sympathetic, and Eimear could see that the garda was upset for her. Collins was impressed when she heard Eimear had been coming home from self-defence classes.

‘I wish all women would learn these skills. It would at least give them time to get away from an attacker and get to safety.’

‘It’s a pity we must go to those lengths, though. Isn’t it?’ Eimear said.

‘Yeah, I know, Eimear, but this is the world we’ve got, and we all have to figure it out for ourselves.’

They sat in silence, and Eimear wondered if she should tell her about what was happening to her at work. But what if Maureen Collins thought she was some nut who attracted trouble by her behaviour? No, she’d keep shtum for the moment.

‘We do have something. At least we’ll have CCTV footage of him getting into the building. The paint is still quite sticky, so it can’t have been that long ago. Shane is getting hold of the tape now, and we may have something tomorrow. I’ll call you when we have anything.’

The two officers left, and Eimear tried to scrub the drying paint off her door. It took ages, and when she was finished, she still wasn’t convinced she had obliterated the graffiti. Was it her imagination, but could she still see the visual echo of the word bitch on the door? Gritting her teeth, she scrubbed the door so hard that the original black paint was scoured away, revealing the wood underneath. She rang Alec and filled him in on what happened. He was very concerned and promised to find out if Donal was in Sligo when the door was vandalised.

Sleep was impossible, so she didn’t even bother going to bed. She watched mindless TV, and when she had enough of that, she paced her flat, counting out the steps like a prisoner measuring their cell. Eventually, at nine, she was so exhausted she lay on the couch and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she opened her eyes and checked the time, it was three in the afternoon. She had slept for six hours. Her head ached, but she felt better for the sleep even though it left her groggy. She splashed cold water on her face and was patting it dry when her phone rang.

‘This is Garda Collins. I wonder if you can pop down to the station this afternoon?’

‘Good, do you have news?’

‘I think it would be better if you called to see us, and we can discuss our findings. Can you get away from work?’

‘That’s OK, I’ll get down to the station. See you shortly.’

Did she imagine it, or was Collins a bit unfriendly on the phone, cold even? No, now she was getting paranoid.

She passed a young man accompanied by a garda in the station foyer. He smirked at her, which was unnerving. She went to the front desk and asked to see Garda Collins.

She was brought into a small, windowless interview room. A chair was chained to the floor, and the table looked like it was welded to the ground. She shivered – despite having accompanied clients to many Garda interviews, she never got used to the feeling of vulnerability they induced. Interview rooms were meant to be intimidating.

Collins and Owens entered, and she smiled warmly at them, but the smile died as she met the chill emanating from the officers, particularly Collins.

‘Have you any news? Have you got the person responsible for what happened?’

‘Yes, we have,’ said Collins.

‘That’s fantastic! Well done! Did he say why he did it? Was someone paying him? Was it Donal?’

A knock on the door and another uniformed officer entered the room and handed Collins a sheet of paper. She showed it to Owens, and he stared at Eimear, his eyes hard and calculating. What the hell was going on? Why were they being so hostile?

‘Ms Martin, I wonder why you have been wasting our time. Don’t you think we have enough to do without dealing with this crap?‘

Stunned by how Collins spoke to her, Eimear got to her feet, her face flushed with anger.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ she demanded.

‘Sit down, Ms Martin. We have information to give you. The boy we saw on the CCTV camera is known to us. He has been lifted several times for petty crime, nothing serious, but he’s a nuisance. Today, when we picked him up, he first denied everything, but eventually, when confronted with the CCTV camera evidence, he sang like the proverbial canary. He told us that someone had indeed paid him to daub paint on your door.’

‘Great, who was he?’

‘Not he, but she, and you know what? He gave us a detailed description. The woman had a West of Ireland accent, very short hair, and a small mole on her left cheek.’

Eimear stared, mesmerised, and raised her hand to her face.

‘In fact, a mole just like yours. She also wore a coat that was a very distinctive blue colour, very like the one you are wearing right now.’

Eimear forced herself to speak. ‘You are taking the word of a thug for hire. Why wouldn’t he know what I look like? He has probably been following me!’

‘Come off it, Eimear. I asked my colleague to walk the boy past you just now, and he didn’t hesitate to identify you. I’m impressed that you held your nerve when you saw him,’ said Collins.

This can’t be happening. The two guards stared at her with hard eyes.

‘What about the break-in at my flat? The man terrorised me and cut off my hair. You saw the bruises on my neck and face. How do you explain that?’

Owens leaned forward and stared at her. ‘Well, Eimear, I’ve been thinking about that. Someone let that man in, and every flat occupant denied doing it. One lady I spoke to said you were very odd and apt to accuse people of making noise, and your fellow tenants find you unpleasant. As for the marks on your face, you must admit they were very superficial; perhaps you did them yourself or got your masked friend to do it.’

‘This is insane. I’ve barely spoken to the tenants in the building, never mind complaining about them. Why in hell's name would I be doing all this to myself? You must think I’m mad.’

Owens smirked. ‘Maybe you need to see a doctor about that, but I think it’s a basic case of attention-seeking.’

Eimear turned pleading eyes towards Garda Collins.

‘Come on, you can’t believe I’d do this to myself. You can’t really believe it of me, can you?’

Collins didn’t answer, her face closed and hostile.

‘You do realise, as a solicitor, how much trouble you’re in?’ said Owens

Eimear glared at him. ‘Can’t you see I’ve been set up?’

‘Really, just like your work colleagues have set you up?’

Eimear’s face blanched.

‘Yes, we tried to reach you at work today and had a very interesting chat with your boss. It seems you are causing trouble wherever you are. Unfortunately, it seems to have rebounded on you.’ Collins's voice was icy with disdain.

Eimear lost all power of speech; she just kept shaking her head. Collins stared at her.

‘Look, Eimear, I’m willing to take a charitable view; perhaps this looking for attention has some medical term. Your boss said he told you to see your doctor. I think that’s good advice. I hope you take it. But I won't be as understanding if I hear from you again. Now we have real crimes to deal with, so push off.’

Fighting back tears of humiliation and rage, she walked out of the station. Someone very clever was trying to destroy her life. But how had they got hold of her coat? She had bought it in a department store, and there must be many similar ones. Someone was going to an insane amount of trouble to either frame her or drive her mad. And by fuck she wasn’t going to let them.

If things got much worse, she would lose her job and, without a decent reference, she could kiss goodbye to her career. Who was doing this, and why?

Chapter 19

She would have to confide in Meg. Tonight, she would contact her and ask her to come home. There was no way she could handle this on her own. Whoever was playing games with her life was so many steps ahead that she was helpless to defend herself. She badly needed to regroup and come up with a plan. Mam would know what to do, and in Mam’s absence, Meg would step in.

She texted her, and Meg agreed to Facetime that evening. While waiting for Meg to call her, she drank so much coffee that her nerve endings vibrated. As she paced the floor, she wondered how much she should tell Meg. She didn’t want to alarm her, but at the same time, she didn’t feel equipped to handle all this insanity on her own. She doubted that Kate would be willing to see her side of things, not after the gardaí had called to the office. That would be the final nail in the coffin.

At eight, Meg called. The familiar warm feeling of home crept over her as she looked at her aunt’s friendly face.

‘Well, pet, how are you doing?’

‘Grand, Meg, but I’m dying to see you. When did you say you were coming home? I want to have everything nice for you.’

‘Well, I've just arrived in London to stay with my friend for a week or so, but I’m coming home possibly the weekend after next, so if that offer of a place to stay still holds, I’ll take it up.’

‘Aww, that’s great news, Meg.’

Eimear’s relief at Meg’s words suddenly turned into an avalanche of tears. Looking at Meg’s alarmed face, she forced herself to calm down. She debated about telling Meg an edited version of what happened, but it all spilt out. Meg looked shocked, and Eimear could see her frustration at not being there to offer comfort and support.

‘Oh my god, this is terrible. Why didn’t you tell me sooner instead of leaving me here enjoying myself and thinking that all was well with you?’

‘There was nothing you could do, Meg, and I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘Right, I’m coming straight home. I can’t believe you haven’t told me all this before.’

To Eimear's consternation, her aunt’s voice wobbled dangerously.

‘If Claire knew I left you to face all this alone while I’ve been off gallivanting, she’d never forgive me.’

‘Please, don’t be at that, Meg. I wanted to tell you, but really, what could you do? I thought the guards had it in hand until they turned against me.’

‘The cheek of them, to believe a young gurrier like that over you! They must be mad.’

‘Calm down, Meg – I’m not alone or at least I won’t be for long. I’ve been thinking about getting a private investigator on it. Then I might finally get to the bottom of everything.’

‘Well, that’s a good idea. We can’t just sit back and let whoever is doing this destroy you.’

‘Thanks, Meg.’

‘Thanks for what?’

‘Well, for believing me, for not assuming that I’ve either lost the plot and am doing things unbeknownst to myself or else I’m an attention-seeking vengeful psychopath.’

‘Listen, girl, I’ve known you for your entire life, and although you may have been a bit of a brat at times and refused to listen to your elders, a more sane and balanced human being I’ve never met and I’ll beat the head off anyone who says otherwise.’

Eimear started to laugh as she looked at Meg’s fierce face.

‘I’m glad I have you on my side, Meg; I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of you.’

‘Do you remember that little brat, Johnny what’s his name, who used to pull your hair and call you names in primary school? Well, he learnt his lesson after I tore strips off him in front of his pals at the community centre.’

‘So that was why he stopped hassling me. I never knew.’

‘Your mother did, and she egged me on because she was too much of a lady to put him in his place properly. So you can count on me. Together, we’ll get to the bottom of things. I promise you.’

‘Thanks, Meg. I feel so much better knowing I have you in my corner.’

‘You know what? I’m going to get a flight out tomorrow

‘Don’t be silly. As long as I know you’re coming soon, I’ll be grand.’

‘Well, if you’re sure, it’s just that I committed to minding my friend's cats while she is away at a work thing. But if I can sort out a cattery, I’ll be home much sooner.’

‘The weekend after next is fine, Meg. Don’t be changing your plans. I mean it.’

‘You need to find someone you trust to stay over with you in the meantime. Do you have anyone you can ask?’

Realising this was the only way to reassure her aunt, she lied and told her she’d stay at a friend’s place. She pretended that she’d met a nice girl at the gym and that she would be delighted to have her stay with her. Meg looked a bit happier, and they ended the call.

As she switched off her phone, Eimear felt more hopeful and filled with a new purpose. It was time to start fighting back.

With that thought in mind, she called Kate, but there was no answer. She left it an hour and then called again – no answer. So Kate had given up on her, too. She poured herself a generous measure of vodka. She drank deeply. It helped.

Shaking her head, she walked over to her desk. She took out her legal pad. Right, remember your training. Think about all this logically. Write out all the facts and try to make sense of it all. There must be some way to figure out who was doing this to her. If it were Donal … she’d make sure he’d live to regret it. But for now, she would deal with all the facts. All the things that had happened to her in Sligo and everything that had happened here in Dublin. She was smart. Even Toby and Philip had to give her that. Well, she’d use some of those smarts to figure this out. She’d make Maureen bloody Collins sorry for doubting her.

Over the next hour, she wrote down only facts she knew were true. Then she read what she had written.

SLIGO

Discovery that Donal is having an affair. This is verified by my seeing Donal with the girl and by his reaction to said discovery.

I break off the engagement.

Donal starts a campaign of harassment – texting numerous times every day, calling me on the phone, showing up to my place of work, following me, showing up when I’m on a date.

Donal warned to stop harassing me by local guards.

Showing up at Mam’s house after the funeral despite being warned off by Alec, showing up again when I was alone in the house and scaring me.

Alec to inform Donal’s boss of his behaviour and give Donal a final warning.

The process of a barring order begins.

DUBLIN FLAT

Photos taken of me since I moved to Dublin and sent to me in the post. The postmark was the city centre.

The word DIE scrawled across my car.

A letter warning me not to go through with my threats. Does this mean my threat to inform Donal’s boss?

A man breaks into the flat and assaults me.

The word Bitch painted on my door.

The guards arrest someone they claim I hired to vandalise my doorway – why did he lie? Or does he really believe I paid him to do this?

WORK

Email purporting to be sent by me to Philip Jolly complaining about Hannah.

Email sent changing the appointment with Tommy Brennan.

Missing document.

Staff turned against me.

Toby lies about me – is this opportunistic, or is he part of the conspiracy?

SUSPECTS

DONAL

MOTIVE:

Anger at being rejected and publicly humiliated.

Persecution complex – sees himself as the victim.

PRO:

While safe in Sligo, he could have hired someone to do his bidding. Did he have any contacts in Dublin who might be willing to help him?

CON:

According to Lana, he was seen in Sligo at least some of the times I have been targeted.

JEN

MOTIVE:

Anger at how her brother had been treated.

PRO:

She has been bad-mouthing me to everyone in Sligo.

CON:

She is not a psychopath. An angry sister, yes, but a rational person.

TOBY

MOTIVE:

Jealous of my success in the firm.

Angry at me for rejecting him when he made the pass.

He told lies about me to Philip and the girls at work.

He had the opportunity to access my email account.

He may have contacts in the criminal underworld who could have been responsible for some of the things that had happened to me.

CON:

Unlikely to take any real risks that could land him in trouble.

And he has no known link with Donal.

HANNAH:

PRO:

Crazy about Toby and might have been willing to tell lies about me out of jealousy or to help Toby.

Furious at the complaints she believes I made against her.

CON:

Unlikely to be vicious enough to do me serious harm.

PHILIP JOLLY, IRIS, KATE – no reason for them to want to harm me.

She stared at what she had written. It didn’t give her any answers but helped sort everything out in an orderly way.

She looked at the time and decided to try and get some sleep. She wasn’t optimistic, but her body was tired, even if her mind was whirring like a clockwork toy. She made up a bed on the couch, and after double-checking that the door was bolted, she turned the TV on low for the company. If someone broke in tonight, there was no way in hell she could call the guards. She doubted if they’d come, and if they did, they’d probably arrest her for wasting their time.

Chapter 20

Eimear awoke, if not refreshed, then filled with fresh determination to deal with the circumstances she faced. She had always been a logical, organised person, but all the things that had happened to her lately had unbalanced her and made her emotional. She needed to think of the chaos surrounding her as a puzzle to be solved. It was important to try and think dispassionately as though she were working on behalf of a client.

The first plan for her day was to take a brisk walk around the park to clear her head. She had always done her best thinking while walking and, who knew, perhaps she’d come up with some idea to solve her problems. She dressed warmly as it was a bitterly cold November day. Walking through the park, she allowed the solitude to ease into her. The trees were bare of colour, and even the green of the grass was muted, and the whole world, from the heavy grey skies to the faded grass, suited her subdued mood. She didn’t need nature's carnival of beauty right now. Fittingly, it was as though the world was acknowledging her pain and showing empathy by reflecting her suffering.

‘Hey, cheer up, smile!’

The greeting from the middle-aged man in a brown duffel coat jerked her from her reflections. She pulled up.

‘What did you say?’ she asked as a warm heat rose across her body.

The man paused and grinned at her through gapped teeth. ‘I said cheer up!’ He stood grinning at her inanely.

Eimear walked over to him and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Why don’t you just fuck off and mind your own business!’

The man looked startled. ‘Now look here, I was only saying …’

‘In what universe do you think I or any woman would care to get advice from a Neanderthal in a poxy donkey jacket?

No sooner had he hurried off than a wave of shame swept over Eimear. There was no excuse for her overreaction. Her mother would have been ashamed of her. The guy was harmless and didn’t deserve such a mouthful of insults. What the hell was happening to her? This was not who she was – a vicious virago. She needed to take herself in hand; she couldn’t afford to lash out like that.

Back at the flat, she checked her phone. There was a message from Alec asking her to ring him. Perhaps he’d have news. At least he’d tell her how he got on with Donal. She rang immediately. It was his private phone, and he answered straight away.

‘Well, Eimear, how’s tricks?’

‘Grand, Alec, look, I’m busy at the moment. Could you fill me in on what’s happening with Donal?’

‘Sure thing, Eimear. Well, I went to see him at his place of work. His face was a picture when he saw me. He hurried me into the cubby hole he called his office and told everyone in earshot that he wasn’t to be disturbed. I cautioned him and informed him that you had made a statement about his behaviour. Of course, he denied doing anything wrong. He claimed you called him and invited him over and then went psycho on him. It’s a classic case of ‘he says, she says’. But with the confirmation of your aunt and the list of behaviours he embarked on since the engagement was called off, then we have a good case with the judge.’

‘Did you find out if he was away from Sligo when my car was vandalised and my door was daubed with paint?’

‘He claims to have been in Sligo when your car was damaged. It was confirmed by one of his colleagues. But his alibi for the evening your door was defaced is trickier. He claimed to have been sick with the flu and was in bed. He says his mother can confirm as she called to see him. But I’m not sure how much faith we can put in her confirmation as she will stick up for her son no matter what.’

‘Thanks so much, Alec. Did you speak to his boss?’

‘I didn’t, as he was away on a business trip. But it’s no harm to have that hanging over him. It’ll keep him ripe with worry. What about at your end? Do the lads in Dublin have any more information on what’s happening? I can give them a ring to stop them dragging their feet. I trained with a few men from that station so I could encourage them to get a hustle on.’

Eimear hesitated. Should she tell Alec that she was persona non grata with the gardaí here? If he contacted them, perhaps he’d lose faith in her, and she couldn’t bear to lose him as an ally. No, she had to keep him on her side, and she couldn’t risk him doubting her.

‘Well, Eimear, do ya want me to have a word?’

‘No, Alec, leave things be. They’ve been great, and I don’t want them to think I’m checking up on them. But I’ll let you know if things change. OK?’

Eimear asked after Alec’s mother and congratulated him on his football team's success. Then, she ended the call.

She spent the rest of the morning reviewing her list from the previous night. Should she hire a private investigator? She wasn’t short of money. Maybe she could contact some of the friends she did law with? Some of the barristers who worked on criminal cases might be able to recommend someone suitable. It was one line of attack anyway, and it would make her feel like she was doing something practical to help herself out of this mess.

She also needed to make some decisions about work. She was off nearly a week, and Philip had insisted she attend her doctor, so she would do just that. It was important to cover her absence from work, or Philip would use it as an excuse to get rid of her. He probably would anyway. She rang her GP in Sligo and asked to speak to him when he was free. The receptionist arranged for her to ring at half four as Dr Murphy would have finished his afternoon clinic by then.

To fill in the time, she headed to the gym. Her workout was intense and allowed her mind to quieten. She glimpsed her park runner doing press-ups; the woman was very fit. She had muscles Rocky would be proud of.

Back at the flat, she showered, had a cup of strong coffee, and thought about what to say to her GP, Dr Murphy. He was her family doctor. He had looked after her since she was a baby, and she was fond of him. She rang reception in his surgery and was put through to his office.

‘Hello, Dr Murphy, it’s me, Eimear Martin.’

‘Well, how are you, my dear? I was so sorry to hear about your mam. She was a lovely lady, and I missed the funeral as we were on holiday, but I hope you got our Mass card. Edel wrote a little note for you and Meg.’

‘I did, thank you. Give my best wishes to Mrs Murphy.’

‘Will do! Now, Eimear, what can I do for you?’

‘Doctor, I’ve been going through a bad time. I suppose you know about my broken engagement and, on top of it, Mam’s death, and well, I’m finding it hard to cope here at the new job. I’m feeling overwhelmed.’

Without intending to, Eimear started crying, and the doctor made concerned noises.

‘It sounds like you should have taken more time to grieve for your mam and, of course, your break-up. Starting a new job so soon and away from all your friends and support wasn’t a great move. Edel tells me that Meg has gone off travelling, too. I’m sure that can’t help. So listen, I’ll send a prescription for a mild antidepressant to the usual pharmacy, and you need to collect it when you're back at home. In the meantime, I’m giving you a two-week cert so you can get back on your feet.’

‘Oh, doctor, I hate taking work off, but I haven’t been able to go to work all week. I kept bursting into tears, and I was mortified. So, I wonder, could you give me a cert from last Monday?’

‘I will surely, Eimear. So, if you need more time after two weeks, call to see me, and we’ll work something out. I don’t usually do phone consults, but you’re never sick. But when you come home, make an appointment to see me. The tablets will take a few weeks to kick in, and we may need to increase the dosage, but I’ll need to see you to discuss a treatment plan. I’ll send the cert in the post, and you can pass it on to your employer.’

They said goodbye. Eimear felt shitty for manipulating the doctor. He was a good man. But anyway, she hadn’t lied and needed more time off work to get to the bottom of everything happening to her.

Chapter 21

When the medical cert arrived, she posted it to work. She wondered what the work crowd would say about her continued absence. No doubt they would take this as confirmation that she was a crazy lady with a malicious streak. The thought that she would make them eat crow when she proved her innocence kept her spirits up. She would do it, if it were the last thing she would do.

That evening, she contacted a friend from law school and got a list of names of private investigators. She explained her need for one by mentioning she was dealing with a complicated compensation case. It was nice to get in touch with one of the old crowd from her days in Blackhall Place where she trained as a solicitor. She was tempted to confide in one of them. Her best mate from among the Dublin crowd was Joan. They had always got on well, and she had even contemplated asking her to be a bridesmaid before everything with Donal imploded. Joan worked for her father’s firm in Kildare. She had dropped Eimear a nice letter after her engagement ended, and she had gone to Claire’s funeral. Her finger hovered over Joan’s name in her phone. But the thought of explaining everything to her forthright friend caused her to hesitate. Deep down, she was afraid that Joan might not believe her either.

Instead of calling Joan, she called three of the detectives recommended, but only one was free to start work on her case, and she hesitated to make an appointment. He sounded bored and impatient, so she decided to put off making an appointment with him. She needed someone who would believe in her and whom she could trust. This man did not tick any of those boxes. Depressed, she poured herself a glass of vodka. It didn’t quite hit the spot, so she had another and another. She fell asleep on the couch.

On Tuesday, she got a call from Philip Jolly. He had on his fake friendly voice and, after he asked her how she was feeling, she realised he was checking that she was taking sick leave. He cut off any attempt to explain that she had done nothing wrong. He mentioned the visit of the Garda, obviously bursting to find out what was going on.

‘Eimear, I’m afraid I had to be frank with the two officers who called here last week about the reasons for your absence from work. Perhaps you would be happier working somewhere else where you can make a fresh start with new colleagues. I fear you have rather burnt your bridges here.’

‘Mr Jolly, I have just obtained a cert for two more weeks and posted it to you. I hope you're not dismissing me when I’m on sick leave.’

‘Not at all, Eimear. I’m glad you’ve taken my advice and seen your GP and, of course, we all wish you a speedy recovery. But, Eimear, sometimes it’s better to move on when things have taken a bad turn — make a fresh start, so to speak.’

‘Philip, I’m not ready to give up so easily. I’m determined to prove that I did nothing wrong. Sometimes, appearances can be deceptive.’

‘I see, well, I hope you feel better soon, and now I must go. I’ll watch out for your certificate in the post.’

It took all her willpower not to snarl at him, but she realised that she had better not give him any more excuses to get rid of her.

A punishing session in the gym worked off some of her rage. Was she overdoing it at the gym? She trained mainly to put in the time but also because she wanted to be ready. The feeling she had when she was attacked in her flat was overwhelming. She had never felt so powerless, her body so feeble. So maybe her obsession with getting strong was unhealthy, but she hoped it would keep her safe. It had to. In the changing room, she rubbed some ointment onto her shoulders to keep the soreness at bay. She hoped the nagging pain in her lower back wasn’t indicative of a serious injury.

On the way back, she stocked up on cleaning supplies. She was running through all her cleaning products at a fierce rate. Boredom had turned her into a very thorough cleaner. Then, after ensuring she was safely locked in, she napped on her couch. When she awakened, it was time to head out to her self-defence class. This was one part of her routine that she enjoyed. The gym was fine, but it was, in the main, a solitary activity. But the self-defence classes were fun, and she got to know some of the women who attended and their stories, too. There were some people in bad situations out there. But realising that other people’s lives were also fucked up didn’t make her feel any better about hers.

Her confidence grew as she practised holds and learned how to disarm attackers. When these classes were finished, she planned to take up martial arts. The one good thing that had come out of all the shit that had rained down on her was how her confidence in her body had grown.

Sometimes, when she headed home after a session, she almost wanted someone to attack her. She thought about all the moves she had learned in her class. If only she had known how to defend herself when … She bit her lip to distract herself from the memory of that night. If only she had the skills then that she now had acquired. But then again, maybe terror would have paralysed her. She needed to keep practising until the defensive moves became automatic.

The next two days passed, and she tried to keep busy. Finally, she decided to make an appointment with the private detective. She was just about to ring when she got a call from Alec.

‘Hi there, Alec. How are you?’

‘Fine, listen, Eimear, I think we need to talk. Is there any chance you will come back to Sligo? I need to see you.’

‘What’s up, Alec, you're scaring me. Tell me, what’s up?’

‘It would be better if you came home. I mean it, Eimear. Try to make it soon.’

‘OK, I can drive down tomorrow; I was planning to head home on Thursday anyway, so a day early won’t make much difference to my plans. Do you want me to call at the station?’

‘No!’ Alec said sharply.

‘Well, where then?’

‘I’ll call to your house tomorrow afternoon. I have a few hours off as I have a late shift. Say around four. Will you be there then?’

‘Yes, I’ll be there, Alec, but can’t you tell me what’s happening?’

There was no reply. Alec had hung up.

That night, she tossed and turned, finally falling into a deep sleep at four in the morning. Her alarm was set for nine, and she dressed quickly. The sooner she got on the road, the sooner she’d discover why Alec was so mysterious. It wasn’t like him to keep her in suspense. He knew how freaked out she was. In the end, she didn’t get on the road until after one; her car had a puncture, and the wheel nuts were impossible to get off, so she rang the AA and had to wait ages for them to arrive.

When she drove up the avenue to her house, it was almost four, and the November daylight was ebbing away. The leafless trees in her mother’s garden looked like brooding giants. She had always loved them and had spent happy summer days as a child high in their leafy canopies, but today, they seemed unfriendly, even sinister.

She unlocked the door and turned the alarm off. The house was loud with silence, and her mind whirred with anxiety. She turned on the heating and boiled water for some tea as she was parched.

Alec would be here soon, and she would hear what he had to say. It couldn’t be good when he wouldn’t talk to her on the phone.

She drank her tea and kept watching out for Alec’s car. Eventually, she heard the sound of tyres on gravel, and then his car pulled up at the front door. She hurried out to greet him, but the welcome smile faded from her face when she saw the hard look on his. It reminded her of how Maureen Collins had looked at her, and her stomach churned.

‘Get inside!’ he snapped.

‘Alec, what’s wrong? Why are you being like this?’

‘That’s rich coming from you, Eimear Martin. Now get inside and shut the fuck up because I’m doing the talking now.’

He pushed past her and into the kitchen. The rigid line of his shoulders scared her more than anything he said. This wasn’t her old friend Alec. This was a hard, cold man, a man wearing a uniform. Her heart sank.

Chapter 22

Alec stood in the kitchen. He'd always pull his hat off when he met her, but he stood in the kitchen in all his Garda regalia looking at her with hard, contemptuous eyes. Suddenly, she had enough of it.

‘What the fuck is eating you?’ she demanded, giving him glare for glare.

‘Well, you’ve got a neck, Eimear, I’ll give you that.’

‘Are you going to get to the point and tell me why you're acting like an angry wasp?’

‘Fine, where do I start? Aww, yes, first, I hear from one of those garda who, according to you, have been looking into your so-called attack. I did wonder why you didn’t want me to bother them. Imagine my surprise when they told me about your antics in Dublin. They weren’t best pleased with you.’

Eimear interrupted. ‘Alec, please, you have to believe me!’

‘You know what? I don’t have to believe a rotten word that comes out of your mouth. I can see now that you’re a manipulator. I don’t know your game, but I’m on to you now.’

‘Please listen to me –’

He raised his hand to silence her as she implored him to listen.

‘No, you listen. I was fool enough to believe all the nonsense that you fed me. Poor little Eimear, her fiancée betrayed her, and after she dumped him, he stalked and harassed her. Well, now I know that it's all lies.’

‘Alec!’ she pleaded.

‘Sergeant O’Driscoll to you. Now, just shut up and listen. I realise now that everything you accused Donal of was a case of your word against his. And I was fool enough to believe every line you fed me. OK, he sent you a few nasty texts and followed you around, but the rest is all lies. I know that because he showed me the letter you sent him and the present.’

Eimear could feel the room spinning. She tried to speak, but nothing came.

‘Lost for words, Eimear, well, that makes a change. But let’s be fair. Donal gave me the note and the present to show you. Here!’

Alec reached inside his jacket and tossed an envelope on the table. Her hands shook so much she couldn’t open it. Eventually, she managed to grope inside and pulled a card out. In what looked like her handwriting were the words ‘All is forgiven, call over’.

‘Is that your handwriting?’ Dumbly, she nodded. He continued to glare at her mercilessly.

In a faint part of the brain, a memory was dredged up.

‘I wrote that ages ago after we had a row. He’s just manipulating you.’

‘Know what, that’s almost funny, and I’m impressed how you can think on your feet. The lies keep on coming. But that’s not all. Look in the envelope.’

Inside the envelope was a little gold cross—her mother’s cross. It couldn’t be, but it was. It was identical to the cross her mother always wore.

‘Is that your mother’s cross?’

‘It looks like the one she wore, but it can’t be it. I’ve got it here. Look, I’ll get it.’

She raced upstairs and searched her mother’s jewellery box. All her pieces were there except the cross. Damn! She had put it in the zipped pocket in her handbag to take back with her to Dublin. It must still be there. She ran downstairs and located her bag on a hook in the cloakroom. The cross wasn’t there. But, of course, she wouldn’t have left it there. She would have taken it out of her bag and put it somewhere in her own dressing table in Dublin. She vaguely remembered doing so. Slowly, she walked back into the kitchen, where Alec waited.

‘Donal received this in the post the day he called to your house. He claimed you gave it to him. The poor bastard has been through hell and back. He nearly lost his job over you. Are you so warped that it wasn’t enough dumping him, but you had to make his life a living hell to punish him?’

‘Alec, please, I don’t understand any of this. You must believe me.’

‘No, Eimear, I’m done being the instrument of your warped desire for revenge. If it weren’t for my respect for your mother and aunt and our friendship, I’d run you in for what you’ve done. I asked Donal if he wanted to press charges, and you know what? He didn’t. He’s a better man than I’d be in the same circumstances. So, Eimear, this is the last piece of friendly advice I’d give you. Get some help for yourself. There’s something deeply wrong with you, and I never want to see or hear from you again.’

Alec walked out of the room, and Eimear, her legs weak, slumped in a chair. She heard him start his car and drive away. She couldn’t move, couldn’t cry. Walls of despair towered around her, and she felt like she was suffocating. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and she could hardly catch a breath. She was convinced she was about to die. Somehow, she staggered to the window and opened it, letting the cold evening air wash over her.

She knew she wasn’t fit to drive back to Dublin. Maybe everyone was right, and she was mad. Perhaps she was doing all the things to herself. It was a simpler explanation than her paranoid belief that everyone was out to get her. She longed for Mam and whispered her name over and over. She walked into Mam’s room and reached for her dressing gown. She needed to feel close to her, and the dressing gown would feel as though Mam was folding her into her arms.

The house phone shattered the silence with its harsh ring. She walked slowly into the hallway and stared at it, terrified and unwilling to pick it up. Pulling Mam’s dressing gown tightly around her body, she inhaled the lingering scent.

The ringing stopped, and she let her breath escape and started to walk away. The phone rang again. This time, she staggered on jellied legs to answer it.

‘Well, my love, I’m off the hook. It was nice of you to send me the cross. I knew it meant that you wanted us to be together. But, you have to stop with the mixed signals. Alec was horrified when he saw how you set me up. I found that nice card you sent me after we argued over some silly thing. It really convinced Alec. Eimear, I want you to know that I forgive you. There’s nothing to come between us now. But you must stop playing games. See you soon, my love.’

She dropped the phone like a hot coal and slumped on the floor. She watched as the last vestiges of light were consumed by darkness, and the air became chill.

Chapter 23

She was terrified all night that Donal would turn up at the door or break in. She was too exhausted to face a long drive back to Dublin. So she checked all the windows and doors, put on the alarm, and barricaded herself in her room. Donal’s threat echoed repeatedly – ‘ See you soon,’ he had promised. Because that’s how it was: he now could harass her with impunity. So, it was Donal behind everything, and she had never credited him with the intelligence to mastermind all that was happening to her. The persistence, yes, but the intelligence, no. Of course, she could be going mad. Did she do all these things unaware of what she was doing? Was it possible that she sent those damming emails, paid someone to attack her and sent Donal the cross?

Unable to look at the cross and chain, she replaced it in her mother’s jewellery box. All its happy associations with Mam were now twisted and warped by Donal’s handling of it. No, whatever else she knew, she wasn’t mad. There was no way she did all those things. That level of self-harm was inconceivable. The guards in Dublin and Alec had accused her of attention-seeking. But they were wrong. All she ever wanted was to lie low, to deal with her grief over Mam and the pain of her disillusionment with Donal in peace. The new job was to be a fresh start.

Everywhere she turned led to dead ends and more confusion. She thought about contacting Lana and some of her old friends, but Alec would probably have told them she wasn’t to be trusted. Soon she would be a pariah, and everyone would believe she was a vindictive bitch out to make trouble for Donal. She couldn’t bear any more rejection or see the disillusionment on the faces of her friends. The way Alec looked at her made her insides shiver and curdle. If he didn’t believe her, then why should anyone else? Maybe even Meg would turn against her, and then she really wouldn’t be able to go on.

She sat hyper-alert for sounds of someone breaking in and robbing her of peace or sleep.

Eventually, at four in the morning, she could bear it no longer and took the long, lonely road to Dublin. As she drove, she was sustained by the thought of arriving at the flat and having the comfort of food and sleep. But the flat wasn’t home; it was where she hid out and hunkered down, and now her mother’s house was no longer home. The words of her old religion teacher, Miss Doyle, entered her head: ‘a wandering Aramean.’ Her teacher explained it as a reference to Abraham, but for her, it represented a lost soul searching for a home, for belonging, but now she realised there was no home. She was destined to wander, hopelessly lost.

Christ, she was getting dark. This train of thought wouldn’t help. There was only one thing to do. She would have to get Meg to talk to Alec to convince him that she wasn’t making everything up. At least Meg could confirm that Donal behaved aggressively towards her. But no doubt he wouldn’t believe Meg and think she was standing up for her niece. But her aunt was a sensible, intelligent woman. She would see some way out; at the very least, she would support and believe in her. At the moment, there were vanishingly few people who did that.

When she pulled up in the car park at the back of her flat, she sat paralysed, reluctant to enter the building. What fresh disasters awaited her there? With dread, she tapped in the door code and walked with heavy feet up the stairs to her first-floor flat. At her door, she was convinced that she could still see the faint outline of the word bitch. Steeling herself, she unlocked the door. But all was quiet. She locked and bolted the door behind her. There was still some milk in her fridge that didn’t smell poisonous, so she made tea and ate some toast. After her frugal meal, she considered trying to get some sleep but knew it was unlikely; better keep going until night-time and hope for the best then.

How best to pass the endless day? She could go to the gym. But she felt a deep aching tiredness sweep over her, not a tiredness that embraces sleep but a sick, restless ache. Suddenly, she was fed up with it all. The relentless wave of disasters was too much to cope with, and she wanted to surrender to self-pity and despair. Fuck it! She was tired to the bone of trying to figure things out.

Getting to her feet, she knew what she needed was oblivion. She pulled on her coat and headed for the off-licence. She had never been a big drinker, at least not before all this nightmare had engulfed her. But she needed to pass through the day and night with the anaesthetic magic of alcohol. At the off-licence, she bought two bottles of wine and a bottle of vodka to replace the one she had depleted. Tonight she knew that wine alone wouldn’t take her to the place she needed to be.

She set about it methodically, drinking the vodka like medicine. She was getting nicely pissed when she remembered that she hadn’t checked her post-box in several days. At first, she shied away from the thought of going near it, but then a surge of alcohol-fuelled courage geed her up. It was only a post-box; she’d open it, and besides, what more had she to lose? Her job, home, friends, and credibility were long gone. She giggled as she imagined what credibility would look like if it had a physical form. Getting to her feet, she staggered downstairs to the lobby. At the post- box, she dropped her key and fumbled with the tiny keyhole in the box, dropping her key again. When she picked it up, she became aware of the woman looking at her disgustedly.

‘What are you looking at?’ she slurred.

‘You’re drunk!’

‘Wow, what a clever bunny you are!’

‘I’m sick of you. We never had any bother until you came, now we have the police calling at all hours and you playing music half the night. We’re all sick to death of you.’

‘Wadda ya mean? I wasn’t playing any music.’

‘Oh, come off it! You were blasting it out the other night. The woman with the misfortune to live above you said she banged on your door, but you wouldn’t answer. You were probably dead drunk, like now.’

Eimear stared. Suddenly, the fog of drunkenness lifted. She went over to the woman, who shrank back in fear. She grabbed her arm.

‘When was the music playing? What night? Please, it’s important.’

‘The night before this, Wednesday. Can’t you remember? Were you so out of it? It wasn’t the first time either.’

Eimear stared stupidly at her. The woman glared and turned on her heel. Eimear picked up her keys and opened the post-box. It was empty.

Chapter 24

She was in Sligo on Wednesday – in Sligo and not here playing music at top volume. Someone had access to her flat and was doing their best to alienate her neighbours. What other reason for blasting music out in the small hours? But why? What was the reasoning behind destroying her friendships, making her a pariah at work, and now turning her neighbours against her? Was she to be driven out of her flat? Well, she certainly played into their hands by letting that old biddy see her hammered out of her tree. Donal couldn’t have done this. Who hated her so much that they wanted to destroy her life, isolate her from everyone and potentially drive her mad?

The sense of security she had in her flat was shattered. Someone had keys to it and went about causing whatever havoc they liked. OK, the bolts she had put on her door kept her safe from intruders, but it never occurred to her that they had access to her home when she was away. It meant she wasn’t secure in her flat. Thank god she had bolts on the door, but the idea of someone wandering around her flat when she was out, touching her things, terrified her. She couldn’t bear it anymore. The air of the place seemed to emit menace.

She pulled on her coat, and before she left, she filled a flask with coffee and laced it with a healthy dose of vodka. It would taste vile, but she couldn’t face sobriety yet. Outside, the cold air hit her like a slap, turning her cheeks red. Pulling her collar up, she headed for the park. She tried to keep walking, but her feet didn’t cooperate fully, and she lurched from side to side. Giggling, she decided that sitting on a park bench was the best option.

She poured some coffee/vodka mix into the flask’s cup. She debated what to call her invention—a cafodka or a vocaffe. She liked the sound of both names, even if she didn’t particularly like the taste of the concoction. The park was empty due to the late November chill; all sensible people would be at work or beside cosy fires—not like her, all alone. Giggling again, she sang tunelessly. ‘I’m nobody's child.’

It was comforting to keep all her thoughts at bay. She was so hammered she forgot why she had been so upset. The memory was there but just out of reach. Why didn’t she get drunk more often? It was great. But she wasn’t alone in the park. A runner was doing a circuit. As the person drew near, she recognised the woman as the park runner who went to her gym. When the woman ran past, she looked at her. Was that amusement in her face? Eimear didn’t care, and she closed her eyes. Her winter coat was thick and warm, and the cafodka made her sleepy.

‘Woah, are you OK?’

Eimear jerked her eyes open and stared at the stocky woman with ruddy cheeks staring down at her. Squinting, she recognised her.

‘Hey, I know you, you go to my gin, I mean my gym.’

The runner held Eimear’s arm. ‘You were sliding off the bench.’

‘I’m grand,’ she slurred and began to get unsteadily to her feet.

‘Wait, are you Eimear Martin?’

Eimear stared at her goggle-eyed.

‘I’m Anna French – we went to St Philomena’s. We were in the same year. Don’t you remember me?’

Eimear stared at her, bewildered. She shook her head and started to wander off.

‘Hey, wait, you don’t look too good. Look, why don’t I give you a lift home?’

At the word home, Eimear began to laugh. She giggled and sang in a warble, ‘I’m nobody's child’, then giggled and walked off.

‘Wait! I can’t leave you like this! Let me take you back to where you live.’

‘Don’t want to, I hate it.’

‘Right, I’m staying not too far from here. You’re coming with me. My car is near the park.’

Eimear let herself be led out of the park. It felt good to be looked after, to give up. She didn’t care where this Anna was taking her.

She led her to a small black Fiesta and pushed her into the passenger seat. Eimear sat passively while the woman reached across and put on her seat belt.

Eimear pointed to her flask and asked, ‘Do ya want a caffodka?’ Then she giggled.

The woman took the flask from her and said, ‘I think you’ve had enough caffodka for today.’

Eimear dozed off in the warmth of the car. Then, her delicious slumber was spoiled by someone insistently shaking her. It was that annoying runner person, Miss Iron Muscles, from the park. The woman yanked her out of the car and led her down steep steps.

‘Be careful, my love. The steps are slippery. I live in the basement flat.'

Eimear stared stupidly about her, her body sagging against the wall. The woman unlocked her door and pushed Eimear inside.

‘OK, Eimear, I will make a supreme sacrifice and give you my bed. Whatever you do, please don’t puke or pee in it; it’s a brand-new mattress.’

Anna took Eimear’s coat, skirt, and half-dragged her to the bed. Eimear dropped onto it and Anna removed her shoes and tights. It felt soft and comfy, like being hugged by a giant sheep. Vaguely, she heard Anna telling her where the loo was, and then she fell fast asleep.

Chapter 25

The sun stabbed her eyes as she awoke, blinking into the light. Everything hurt; her skin felt tender and her stomach queasy, but the torture inside her skull minimised all those discomforts into mere peccadillos. She closed her eyes against the brutality of the light. Where was she? The room was an interior decorator’s delight, that is, if they despised minimalism. Here, the wallpaper was a dazzling explosion of colour and foliage. Even the pictures adorning them competed with the flaming flora, but in them animals from the darkest jungles stared insolently from their wooden frames instead of flowers and plants.

Eimear shuddered. She remembered the park, the woman who claimed to know her, and assumed that she had been brought here by this Anna person. She swung her legs out of bed. Staring at her bare legs, she wondered where her skirt was. She was peering around hopelessly when a knock on the door was followed by its opening, revealing a brunette with curly hair and a round smiling face.

‘Well, good morning to you. There’s a towel at the bottom of the bed, and the bathroom’s across the hall. Shower and get dressed, and I’ll meet you for coffee and croissants in the kitchen.’

Eimear did as bidden. The shower helped a little. When she staggered back into the bedroom, she saw a glass of water and two paracetamol were sitting on her bedside locker. She swallowed the tablets and drained the glass of water.

She dressed slowly, reluctant to join Anna in the kitchen. At the doorway, she hesitated but, steeling herself, walked in. Anna had set the small kitchen table for two. There was coffee, orange juice, toast and croissants awaiting her. The smell of the coffee made her shudder.

‘Take a seat, Eimear. I’ll be with you in a minute; I’m just putting the bin out. Help yourself to whatever you feel like.’

Eimear was sipping orange juice and hoping she could keep it down when Anna returned.

‘Well, do you remember me now?’

Eimear stared, ‘Tell me your name again?’

‘Anna French.’

Eimear still drew a blank.

‘OK, maybe you remember me better as ‘Stenchy Frenchy’. Does that ring any bells?’

It did. Then, superimposed on Anna’s face was a plump, spotty one and an untidy school uniform instead of a tracksuit.

‘God, of course. I know you now. I didn’t recognise the name.’

‘No, Stenchy French was what you and your mates called me.’

Eimear flushed. She remembered the plump girl who smelled of BO, and she remembered the mean nickname.

‘Don’t look so upset. I got over all the name-calling, and you weren’t the worst; you mostly ignored me.’

‘God, Anna, I’m sorry.’

’Don’t worry, I got over it, and as you can see it hasn’t done me any harm. I can’t say the same for you. Eimear Martin of the Big House, I’d never have expected to find you paralytically drunk in a Dublin park. We all expected big things from you. I thought you were a barrister or an accountant.’

‘I’m a solicitor.’

‘Well, what happened to you yesterday – so pissed you nearly fell off the park bench? Was it some man who messed you around?’

Eimear got to her feet. ‘Thanks for helping me yesterday. But I’d better get moving. I’m going to call a taxi and head home. I think I’ll go outside and get some fresh air while waiting. But thanks again.’

Eimear went to the doorway. Her eyes were blind with tears. She was groping her way up the steps to the street when Anna caught up with her.

‘Hey, look, I’m a tactless gobshite, don’t mind me. Look, please let me drop you home.’

Eimear shook her head dumbly and struggled to escape Anna’s grip.

‘For God’s sake, come back in. You haven’t even got your coat, and I’m thinking that’s where your phone is.’

Gritting her teeth, Eimear had no choice but to re-enter the apartment. She found her coat, and when she checked her phone, it was as dead as a doornail.

‘OK, you have two choices. We can wait while we charge your phone – I have a charger – or I can drive you home. Which will it be?’

In answer, Eimear handed over the phone.

Anna took it, found the charger and then led Eimear back to the kitchen table.

‘Now, while we wait, let’s get reacquainted. I’ll tell you my story and fill you in on all the exciting chapters in my life, and then perhaps you’ll do the same for yours. So here goes. After leaving school, not being of an academic bent, I got office work and was trained as a secretary. I loathed it and went off travelling, first in Europe and then further afield. I paid my way by working in pubs and restaurants. I did that for several years, and then I moved to England. As a mature student, I took the opportunity to train as a physiotherapist in Manchester and discovered that I liked it well enough to stick to it. I moved to Dublin about a year ago. My friend offered to sublet her apartment to me until I found somewhere better or until she returned from Australia. That’s my potted history – no man or woman in my life, at least not at the moment, but I’m open to offers. I had one or two relationships, but nothing stuck.’

Seeing that Eimear wasn’t going to respond, she continued, ‘Seriously, I have no hard feelings about the school days. You were actually fine to me. So, there's no need to feel guilty, and I’ve long got over it. Besides, I did stink; hygiene wasn’t big in our house; the parents had their issues. But after Dad died, Mam got help, and she’s in recovery now. So that’s all, folks, as they say on all the best TV programmes. Now it’s your turn – tell Auntie Anna all!’

Eimear tried to speak. Instead, she just howled like a dying wolf.

‘For fuck sake, Martin, what’s wrong? Christ on a bike, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘It’s fine, I’m sorry, I just ….’

The words wouldn’t form, and Eimear continued sobbing hysterically.

‘Right, stop trying to talk. I can see you’re in trouble. You don’t have to tell me anything. But, Eimear, I’m not one to be superstitious or all woo-woo, but maybe our meeting yesterday was meant to be. Maybe you needed someone to confide in, and hey presto, I dropped into your path. So, take a breath. I will head out to the shops and pick up something for lunch, and if you’re still here when I come back, I’ll be ready to listen. I know I made my life sound easy, but it wasn’t. I had some shitty times, too, and I know that it does help to talk, and I’m a brilliant listener. Now, I’m going to shut up and leave you to think. OK, my love?’

Eimear kept her head in her hands and only lifted it when she heard the door bang. She jumped to her feet. Her phone was probably charged enough. She unplugged it; it was half-charged. She stood indecisively at the door, phone in hand. She keyed in the number for the taxi company she used. But instead, she hesitated and then put the phone back to finish charging. The thought of returning to the flat, of dealing with angry tenants who had probably complained to the landlord, reduced her to helpless despair. What more did she have to lose? She would talk things over with Anna. She was a stranger, yet not a stranger. She wouldn’t be affected by anything she said, and she might have some idea of what to do – offer a fresh perspective. But at the very least, talking to someone sympathetic would be a relief. She was sitting at the table when Anna returned an hour later.

Chapter 26

Anna insisted they walk to clear their heads and took her for a stroll along the canal. It was cold, but it did help to shake some of the cobwebs from her head. Anna chatted about her travel experiences and shared funny anecdotes, often at her own expense. She had no difficulty laughing at herself. Eimear said little and appreciated having the time to let Anna’s words wash over her like a soothing stream. But after a while, Anna led them back to her basement flat.

Eimear sat looking at a bird table suspended from a tree a few feet from the kitchen window. She watched as a fat robin ate hungrily from the ball of seeds hanging from one of its spikes. A blackbird chased the poor thing away. Anna called Eimear to the table for soup and crusty bread.

‘Sometimes I regret putting that bird table up. It doubles as both a bird table and the lunch menu for the neighbour's cat. I’m convinced he watches from a distance as though deciding on his daily appetiser.’

The soup smelled delicious, and Eimear realised she was ravenous. They ate in silence.

‘How come you're not at work today?’ she asked Anna.

‘I’m working privately. A few friends and I rent out space in town, and I see some private clients. Most of my work is in the afternoons and evenings. That’s why I can run and go to the gym when it’s quiet. I do enough to pay the bills. Eimear, I’m not very driven by money – so long as I can get by, I’m happy, and if I get the wanderlust again, it’s easy to up and go.’

‘I can see how it must be nice to be free, but don’t you get lonely too?’

‘Nah, I have plenty of friends; I like my own company, and I'm happy for the moment. I try not to plan too far into the future. My philosophy is to enjoy what’s happening now and let the future take care of itself. Hey, why don’t we sit on the couch? We can watch the action on the bird table and hopefully repel any murderous impulses from the cat.’

They sat side by side on the couch, but the light easiness between them had ebbed away, leaving Eimear tense and anxious.

‘Eimear, I don’t want to pressure you, but if you want to talk about what’s bothering you, I can listen. I can’t promise to improve things, but maybe you’ll feel less alone.’

Eimear looked at Anna – her plain round face, muscular frame, and practical clothes. The weight of her loneliness bore down on her. Anna was offering to share the burden, if only for a short time. Taking a deep breath, she began.

To her ears, it sounded fantastical, paranoid, even unhinged. She stared at her hands while she spoke. Occasionally, Anna asked a question, but she mainly let Eimear talk. Finally, she told her everything from Donal’s unfaithfulness, his stalking, her mother’s death, the vandalism to her car and door, the photos, the threatening letter, and the attack on her in the flat.

Then she stopped. So far, she had Anna’s sympathy, but if she continued, Anna would think she was deluded or worse. It suddenly occurred to her that Anna might know Donal. He would have been at all the pubs she and her friends frequented, so there was a good chance that Anna knew him too. She paused uncertainly.

‘Do you know Donal? Do you remember him from when you went to school?

‘Was he the tall skinny lad who hung out with the boys from the college? I remember he had the coolest sunglasses, which he wore all the time. He towered over everybody but managed to look cool and sophisticated. But I never would have dared to speak to him. He was the lad all the Leaving Cert girls wanted to take to their Debs. If you remember, Eimear, I didn’t do much socialising back then so I only knew of him.’

‘Yeah, that’s Donal.’

‘I’m sorry he turned out to be such a jerk.’

‘Well, at least I found out what he was really like before we got married.’

‘What else? There’s something more you’re not telling me.’

Eimear hesitated and then took a leap of faith. She told her about the emails, about the guards believing that she orchestrated the vandalism and attacks on herself and then, in a broken voice, she spoke about Alec and her mother’s cross. Finally, she came to a halt. She didn’t dare look up to watch suspicion cloud Anna’s face. She was certain she would regret inviting her to stay and share her story. Soon, Anna would tactfully pretend she had to go out or was expecting a friend, anything to rid herself of her crazy guest.

‘Is that everything?’

‘Yes, I’m sure you think I’m crazy, but it’s all true.’ Still, she couldn’t look at Anna’s face.

‘Well, it sounds so impossibly crazy that it must be true.’

Eimear looked up. ‘What? You believe me?’

‘Well, you could have lost all grasp of reality and been doing all these things to yourself subconsciously, but you know what, I have a better solution.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I think someone is trying to drive you out of your mind. The question is, who hates you enough to do that?’

Eimear felt some of the pent-up tension ease from her body. Anna acted as though she assumed she was telling the truth, and relief made her momentarily lost for words. Then, pulling herself together, she said, ‘I don’t know. Donal was angry with me but couldn’t pull off everything that happened to me. He’s not that smart, and he has a job in Sligo. It keeps him busy, and it provides him with a good income. He would never jeopardise that.’

‘Well, then perhaps he has help. What are the names of the people you work with? Look, you need to write all this down so we can get a clearer picture of what is happening.’

‘I did write it all down, or most of it. It’s back at the flat.’

‘Right, let’s go there.’

‘What, now?’

‘There's no time like the present. And you know what? I’ll stay over with you tonight. We can talk it over and try to figure this out.’

Eimear stared at her. ‘Why are you doing all this?’

Anna grinned. ‘Do you think I’m all part of the sinister plan?’

Eimear looked at her searchingly. ‘I don’t know who to trust anymore. And I don’t see why you want to get involved. If everything I’m saying is true, you’re getting mixed up in a dangerous situation, and if I’m lying or delusional that’d be dangerous, too. So why are you willing to get involved?’

Anna sighed. ‘OK, a long time ago I needed a friend. I was an outcast; no one wanted to sit beside me at school; they called me names and whispered behind my back. The teachers didn’t know how to help and, in many ways, made things worse. But one day, when everyone refused to sit beside me because I stank, you did. No one forced you to, but I think you saw the misery on my face and sat beside me, and we worked on a project together. Don’t get me wrong, we didn’t become friends, but you saw I needed help that day and gave it to me.’

‘I don’t remember doing that. Are you sure it was me?’

‘It was you. And I never forgot it. To you, it was no big deal, but it mattered to me. So that’s partly why I’m willing to help.’

‘And the other reason?’

‘I love a good mystery.’ Anna winked. ‘Come on, let’s head.’

Chapter 27

They sat up late into the night. Eimear ordered takeaway food, and they gorged themselves. Anna pored over the account Eimear had written and questioned her minutely about everything. The only interruption was at eight, just after the food had arrived. The sharp rapping unnerved her. Anna walked with her to the door. Her landlord stood outside. He looked stern. She invited him in, but he insisted on standing in the corridor.

‘Ms Martin, I’ve had a complaint from one of your neighbours about you playing loud music late at night. And another tenant accused you of being drunk in the foyer of the building, and I have heard reports of the guards visiting here regularly, and now I see that the door to your flat has been defaced.’

Before Eimear could get a word out, Anna pushed her way forward and, in a bolshy voice, said, ‘Now, hold on a second – my friend Eimear here has been the subject of a vicious attack from a former boyfriend. She approached the Garda as was her right. The man wrote something rude on her door. She washed it off and, of course, will get the door repainted. She didn’t want to bother you with her problems. And as for the loud noise, that was my fault. She was called out to attend to a sick relative in Sligo, and I happened to be visiting her. I’m her cousin from London. It was me who had the music blaring. I’m a little deaf, so I didn’t realise it was so loud and disturbing others. As for Eimear being a bit jarred, surely she can be upset when she gets bad news. Her relative died.’

Anna said this in a very loud voice. Whenever the landlord spoke, she insisted he needed to speak up. By the end of the conversation, the poor landlord was apologising to her for disturbing them.

When the door closed behind him, they dissolved into laughter.

‘You are such a liar, Anna French!’

‘Yeah, well, at least it’ll get him off your back for a while. And do get that door painted. It looks disturbing. Tomorrow we’ll buy paint and do it ourselves. I don’t have to work until two, so we should get it well in hand.’

The next morning, Eimear went out and bought black paint. When she arrived back, Anna borrowed an old top, and they set about painting the door. The results weren’t bad for a pair of amateurs. Eimear admired their efforts as she waved Anna off on her way to her first client of the day. It felt good to fix something, even if it was only a minor part of the mess in her life. Since Anna came into her life, she felt a sliver of hope. It was nice to have someone to talk to about everything happening to her. Having someone believe she wasn’t mad or criminal was still nicer. But even with Anna helping her, she didn’t see any way out. She could find a detective to look into things, but she was reluctant to explain herself all over again and perhaps see the look of contempt or pity on their face. It was a miracle that Anna believed her, but that might not last.

Meg was her best hope. Meg could back up her account of Donal’s stalking her. But even then, apart from his unpleasant emails and visiting the house after Mam’s funeral, it was still a case of her making accusations without much corroboration. But with Meg and Anna on her side, she would feel less lonely. It was great that Meg was coming at the weekend, but she worried she was putting her aunt in danger by involving her in all the chaos surrounding her. Maybe it would be better if she stayed at a safe distance from this. Should she put her off coming back to Ireland? She could still give advice on how to proceed. But she knew Meg. There was no way she’d sit on the sidelines and let her face things without her. So, when Anna called this evening, they would contact Meg. Three heads were better than one, and Meg would be relieved she wasn’t alone.

As she crossed the road to the gym, she was suddenly reminded of the evening she saw Anna outside her flat. She had been looking up at the building. Why? And then there was the time she seemed to be about to stop and say something to her but didn’t. That suggested she might have known who she was – but when she finally spoke to her in the park she behaved as if she suddenly recognised her. In fact, Anna had made her feel uneasy from the start. Now that thought bothered her all the time she was working out.

Her energy was low, but she persisted with her programme. Then she called to the locksmith’s and arranged for someone to call the next day to change her locks. She would have to let her landlord know and give him a spare set of keys too. On her way back to the flat, she bought a large frozen pizza and a few salad items to feed Anna and herself. It would be nine before Anna finished all her work sessions.

When Anna arrived at the flat, she had the food ready. Anna ate more than her fair share, as she liked her food. Eimear forced herself to eat, as Anna’s disapproving gaze pierced her whenever she faltered.

‘Why were you at my flat the other day? I saw you when I was crossing the road,’ said Eimear abruptly.

Anna raised her eyebrows. ‘So I was looking at your apartment building – so what? I often look at apartment buildings. At some stage, I will have to move out of my friend’s place, and your building isn’t too far from mine. I like the area. There’s no big mystery, Eimear.’

‘Look, you can’t blame me for wondering. I mean, I see you outside my flat, and then all of a sudden, you are involved in my life.’

‘Well, I hope my answer satisfies you. Look, Eimear, if you don’t trust me, that’s fine. I understand.’

‘I’m sorry, Anna, it’s just that I’ve been let down by everyone I trusted lately. I can’t let my guard down.’

Anna wiped her mouth with her napkin. ‘I get it. Look, do ya want me to leave?’

Eimear shook her head. ‘No, I’m being paranoid. I don’t want you to go. Besides, I wanted to tell you about Meg. I was hoping to contact her this evening. The great news is she’s coming home this weekend.’

‘I’m keen to meet this aunt of yours.’

‘Yeah, Meg is sound. She’s always had my back. Look, let’s call her now.’

There was no answer when she tried calling Meg, so the girls cleared up the meal and made tea.

After ten minutes, Meg Facetimed back. ‘Sorry, Eimear, I was in the shower. Is everything OK? God, has something else happened?’

Meg stared at her, her eyes wide and worried.

‘I went to Sligo since I last spoke to you. Alec wanted to see me.’

‘Why did he have to drag you down to Sligo?’

‘I think he wanted an opportunity to bawl me out in person. He made contact with the guards in Dublin, and they told him I was a liar and a fantasist who was causing trouble at work and was likely given the sack.’

Meg started to interrupt, but Eimear continued rapidly.

‘He also went to see Donal, and Donal showed him a note I had sent him telling him all was forgiven. It was a note I wrote ages ago that he held on to.’

‘Well, Alec must realise that!’

‘Wait, there’s more. He showed Alec a gift I sent him. Do you remember Mam’s little Saint Brigit’s cross? Well, he showed it to Alec.’

‘I don’t understand. How did he get the cross?’

‘I don’t know. I brought it back with me to Dublin. I know I did. But somehow Donal got it.’

‘Oh my God, this makes no sense!’

‘Well, the upshot is that Alec thinks I’ve been manipulating him to wreck Donal’s life. It was horrible, Meg, the way he looked at me with such contempt.’ Eimear’s voice shook as she recalled the scene in her kitchen.

‘Wait until I get to talk to him. I’ll make him see sense. Although how he could take the word of that pup Donal over yours, I cannot credit!’

‘Well, he had all the evidence he needed, and I didn’t help by not telling him about what happened with the guards in Dublin.’

‘‘Right, I’m coming straight home – you can’t be alone to deal with all this.’

‘Calm down, Meg. I’m not alone.’

‘You’re not?’ Meg stared at her, puzzled.

‘I’ve met up with an old school friend, and she’s offered to help. I’ve brought her here to meet you.’

Meg looked startled as Anna leaned in.

‘Anna, Meg, Meg, this is Anna.’

‘Hello, Meg. Eimear has told me all about you, and I promise that I’m here to help. I’m on her side. I think someone is deliberately making her life hell, and my money is on Donal.’

Meg seemed to be searching for words, still recovering from this sudden surprise.

Anna grinned.

‘Listen, Meg, you’ve had a lot to take in, and I think you and Eimear need to talk alone. So, I’m going to head off now, and later we can all meet online or in-person to plan a strategy.’

Ignoring Eimear’s protests, Anna picked up her belongings and headed out the door.

She had barely shut the door when Meg began talking.

‘How well do you know that girl?’

‘Not that well. We were in St Philomena’s together.’

‘I don’t ever remember meeting her.’

‘Well, we weren’t close.’

‘And now she suddenly shows up, offering to help you?’

‘It wasn’t exactly sudden. I saw her running in the park and at the gym. I didn’t recognise her. It was only because I got drunk one day and she saw me in the park that she stopped to help me and we realised we knew each other from school.'

Meg threw her hands in the air. ‘Hold on a sec! What do you mean you “got drunk”? You were drunk and alone in a park? Are you out of your mind?’ She glared at Eimear. ‘I can’t believe you’d put yourself in such danger.’

Eimear felt herself flush. Oh God, she thought. I shouldn’t have let that slip.

‘Calm down, Meg, I was fine, and Anna swooped to the rescue.’

‘Swooped to the rescue? You mean you were so drunk that a passer-by could see you needed help? What?’

‘You’re right. I know. It was a foolish thing to do. I promise you it’ll never happen again.’

‘God, Eimear, I don’t know what to say. How could you be so irresponsible? Someone is threatening you, and you decide to make it easy for them?’

‘You’re right, I know. I’m sorry, but everything just got to me. It was like I had to release a valve, and the drink helped me. But I get it. I was an idiot. Now, please, can we let it go?’

Meg bowed her head and Eimear could see her taking a few deep breaths.

‘Meg – I’m sorry.’

Meg raised her head and looked at Eimear. ‘All I can say is thank God I’m coming home. You should have told me you were in such a state of mind.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘Worry me? I’ve lost Claire – have you any idea what losing you too would do to me?’

‘I know, Meg. I do. I just felt you didn’t need more stress.’

‘What are you talking about, girl? That’s what I’m here for – having your back.’

‘Thank you, Meg. You’re the best. But look, some good has come of my stupidity. Anna has pulled me out of my depression and I have another ally now.’

‘Well, thank goodness there’s someone sensible to watch out for you. I suppose I should have thanked her for minding you, but every time we talk there seems to be some fresh disaster befalling you, so I’m suspicious of everyone.’

‘So am I. I was even suspicious of Anna.’

‘But I’ve been thinking about all the things that happened to you – I definitely think it’s all down to Donal Carty.’

‘I’m not sure it is Donal. How does he manage to feck up my life here in Dublin?’

‘Could he know someone in your office, someone jealous of you, or threatened in some way?’

The image of Hannah and Toby appeared in her mind. Hannah hadn’t the smarts or the guile to ruin her career, but Toby had. Could it be possible that Donal knew Toby? If that were so, then everything would make sense, or at least some of it would. But why would Toby go to all this trouble to hurt her? OK, he was annoyed that she was impressing the boss and that she had rejected his advances, but still, this was a stretch. It certainly wasn’t Toby who attacked her! But, then again, Toby had some shady clients. He didn’t represent them in criminal court cases but worked on other business areas for them. Could he have contacts with thugs who would do anything for money? She remembered Philip bringing up concerns about some less respectable clients Toby was dealing with. He was worried about the firm's reputation, but Toby managed to reassure him, at least in part.

Meg could see that she had stirred up something in Eimear.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘You may have a point about Donal's connection with someone from work. I think I might know how I can find out.’

Meg looked alarmed. ‘You’re not planning on doing something stupid, are you?’

‘Of course not. But I think I can see a way of getting information. I have no intention of taking any risks, Meg, I promise you.’

Meg sighed with relief. ‘Glad to hear it. But Eimear, it’s great that you have someone on your side, but don’t be too trusting. It’s early days and, remember, you hardly know the girl.’

‘I will be careful, but I can’t see why she would want to harm me. Anna barely knew Donal, and she’s been working abroad for ages.’’

‘Look, love, I’m not saying that Anna is a bad person, and maybe she does want to help. But be careful – that’s all I’m saying. She’s in a position to know everything about you, all your plans. Perhaps take a step back. Check her out before you trust her too much.’

‘But Anna has already made a difference. She calmed the landlord down and took responsibility for the loud music. She even helped me paint the bloody door!’

Seeing Meg’s puzzled look, she filled her in on the most recent developments and related how Anna had talked down the angry landlord.

‘Well, fair dues to her. She sounds like my kind of girl. I’d loved to have been there to see her in action. By the way, what are you doing about changing the locks to your flat? Someone got in to turn the music up. What other tricks might they be playing? You told me about someone writing emails. Suppose it wasn’t done at the office. You have a laptop. It has your work emails. All anyone has to do is use your laptop when you're out and write anything they like. God, Eimear, love, you need to change your locks. You’re not safe!’

Meg sounded panicked, and Eimear rushed to reassure her.

‘I’ve booked a locksmith to change the locks, but at least I’m safe once I bolt myself in. So, no need to panic. You should see the locks I have. It’s like I live in New York.’

‘Well, bolt it now. Right now. I mean it. I need to know that you’re safe.’

‘OK, I’m doing it now.’

Eimear went and put on the safety chain and bolted the door to keep Meg happy.

‘Good, at least I know you’re safe for the moment. Now, I will contact my friend and tell her I have to leave earlier than planned, and Pixie and Trixie will have to find new cat-sitters.’

‘I don’t believe anyone calls their cats Pixie and Trixie?’

‘Well, Jill does, and stop changing the subject. I’m coming home immediately. And I’m not going back to Sligo. You can give me your bed, but I’m staying with you. So don’t raise any objections.’

‘Meg, I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m dying to see you and so glad you’re staying with me. But please keep to your schedule. I’ve things I want to do before you get here.’

‘What things? Please tell me you won’t tackle Donal or do anything dangerous.’

‘I promise, Meg. I just need to sort out some things relating to work. Nothing dangerous, I promise.’

Eimear wasn’t sure that Meg believed her, but she didn’t want her to rush around changing plans. Once Meg arrived, she would be more constrained.

Smiling cheerfully at her, she added, ‘Text me your flight times, and I’ll pick you up at the airport.’

They said goodbye, and she felt lighter after she ended the connection. The only shadow was the doubts that still lingered in her mind about Anna.

Chapter 28

The next morning, the man arrived to change her locks. She felt a lot more secure when he handed her the new keys. She also changed all her email passwords. Although she hadn’t sent too many emails since leaving work, it was no harm to take precautions.

She puzzled over how someone could have managed to gain access to her flat and turn her music on so loudly that it would disturb the neighbours. She was careful with her keys, but then again, she had kept them in her bag at work, and it wouldn’t be too difficult for someone to lift them and get them copied—someone like Toby, perhaps.

Her head felt muzzy, and she desperately needed fresh air – a brisk walk around the park was what was needed. When she passed the bench where she had met Anna, she stopped and sat down.

She felt uncomfortable as she remembered Anna staring up at her building. Her explanation did make sense, but … Eimear’s head hurt with all the contradictory information battering her brain. What possible motive could Anna have for wanting to harm her, or what could have made her ally with Donal? And what could she possibly gain from interfering in her life? No, the whole thing made no sense. She was in danger of being suspicious of everyone. Getting paranoid wouldn’t help. Her thoughts continued on a spiralling loop of wild conjecture. Perhaps Anna believed that she was deliberately damaging Donal’s life, telling lies about him, and getting him into trouble; if she did know Donal, she might want to protect him. Eimear’s head began to spin. She would either have to keep Anna at arm’s length or take a leap of faith and trust that Anna meant only the best for her. Her head ached with the worry of it all. Should she see if she could find out more about Anna? Perhaps ask Lana to make enquiries.

Her thoughts turned to work. She needed to make some decisions about her job. Should she resign, and hope Philip Jolly would be charitable, and not destroy her professional reputation? He was a good man, but she wouldn’t put it past Toby to whisper against her. To make sure she didn’t get to work in any firms where he had contacts. The thought of being driven out of Dublin infuriated her. If Toby wasn’t behind all the things that had gone wrong for her, he had certainly benefited from them. He had lied to Philip and the girls about her. He had cast her as not only a nasty person, undermining her colleagues, but as a love-sick obsessive too. Meg suggested that perhaps Donal knew someone at her workplace; it could be Toby. There must be some way she could find out if there was a connection between them. It was a pity that Kate still refused to respond to her calls. She had liked her, and she would have been a great ally. But Toby and Hannah, combined with the visit from the gardaí, would have turned Kate against her.

Being out of work made the days hard to fill, and the tendency to brood was hard to resist. Anna was supposed to call around this evening. On impulse, she texted her, leaving a message that she had to go out but would be in touch tomorrow. This would give her some breathing room and time to determine how much she could trust Anna. She even considered following her and seeing if she met with Donal or Toby. God, she really was in danger of losing her mind, afraid to trust anyone.

Back in the apartment, once again, the walls seemed to press in, and she desperately needed to get out of their enclosure. In fanciful moments, it seemed to her that the walls were alive, and at times, she even thought she could hear them breathe. God, she needed to get away. She put on a heavy jacket and some gloves, and just as she was about to leave, she had a sudden idea. She ran into her bedroom and, after digging around in a few boxes, found what she was looking for. Grabbing her car keys and some money, she left the flat. The Mini looked OK. There was no sign of sinister messages, and her tyres looked undamaged.

She started the car. It was time to stop passively waiting for someone to rescue her, whether Meg, Anna, or the gardaí. She would figure a few things out herself. First, she would visit Kate. She had never been to her home, but she knew the address because it was easy to remember: Duck House, Dolphins Barn, Flat 1. She overheard Kate giving it to a taxi driver after a boozy session in Lennon's.

She pulled up close to the flat, down a little side street. She was probably parking in someone’s space, but to hell with that. At the building, she pressed the doorbell. When Kate’s musical voice answered, she crossed her fingers and spoke.

‘Hi Kate, it’s me, Eimear. Can I come up?’

There was a long silence, and Eimear was about to speak again when the buzzer went. In a minute, she was standing outside Kate’s flat. She stared at the cream door uncertainly, wondering what she would say. She didn’t get a chance to knock.

Kate opened the door, her face cold.

‘What do you want, Eimear?’

‘You haven’t answered my texts or calls. I needed to talk to you.’

‘Look, Eimear, I don’t see the point of you coming here. Your name is mud at the office, and when I tried to stick up for you, they all started turning on me. God, but you’re one unpopular girl!’

‘But do you believe them? Do you think I would do all those things, basically self-sabotage myself? I was doing well until those emails and the mess with Brennan. Why would I do that to myself? Look, can I come in?’

Kate nodded and stepped aside. She pointed to the couch and lifted a pile of clothes, and Eimear sat down. The apartment was a mess. This wasn’t how she expected Kate to live. She was so tidy and organised at work.

Seeing her glance around, Kate shrugged.

‘Joe has moved out. We had a row, and I’ve let things slide.’

‘I’m sorry, you and Joe seemed good together.’

‘Yeah, well, appearances can be deceptive. Look, I don’t see what I can do for you. I’m not convinced you’re the demon incarnate, but as for self-sabotage, Toby said all your work was a mess, and your clients were furious with you.’

‘That’s not true, Kate, you know me. You know how hard I worked for my clients. I was never sloppy.’

‘Well, I’m inclined to agree. I think Toby wanted some of your plum clients, and he probably lied to Philip to be seen as the man who saved the day.’

‘So you believe me?’

‘Aww, now let’s not run away with ourselves. I don’t necessarily believe you, but I wouldn’t put it past Toby to stir things up to make you look even worse.’

‘OK, don’t believe me, but I just want to know if you’ve ever seen Toby with a man named Donal Carty. He has sandy hair, is clean-shaven, and is over six feet tall.’

‘Come on, Eimear, that describes half the guys in Dublin.’

‘Well, have a look at this photo.’ Eimear had found a picture of Donal in an old scrapbook from the first holiday she took with him. She had thought she had burned all her pictures of him, but this one had escaped. It wasn’t very clear, but maybe it would jog Kate’s memory.

‘Is this your old boyfriend?’

‘Yes, I think he’s behind some of the stuff happening to me.’

Kate stared at the picture and then, shrugging, handed it back.

‘I don’t know, I can’t be certain.’

‘Will you at least show it to the girls at work? Say someone dropped it in the office. It might jog a memory.’

‘Why should I do this for you, Eimear? How do I know you’re not a nut job out to cause trouble?’

‘You don’t but, if I’m not a nut job but an innocent victim, how are you going to feel if you don’t help me?’

There was a long silence, and then Kate got to her feet.

‘You have to go now, Eimear. I won’t make promises, but I’ll hold on to the picture and see what I can do.’

‘Thanks, Kate, that’s all I ask. And I’m truly sorry about Joe.’

‘You shouldn’t be. If I weren’t so pissed at Joe and men in general, I wouldn’t give you the time of day. But right now, I’m subscribing to a theory.’

‘What’s that?’

‘That all men are bastards, and I wouldn’t put anything past them.’

With those words, she shut the door on Eimear.

Chapter 29

The drive home gave her time to reflect. Was there a chink of light? Kate wasn’t an ally, but she wasn’t an enemy either. There was a possibility she could discover something. If she could find something linking Toby and Donal, she could at least approach the gardaí in Dublin and show them that there was possibly a conspiracy against her. But again, why? Why would Toby pay someone to attack her and vandalise her car and home? It was a considerable risk to take. And for what? A few clients. There had to be more to it. What possible reason would Donal and Toby have to join forces? OK, Donal had his warped reasons for wrecking her life. She had dumped him and reported him for harassment. But for Toby, she wasn’t any real threat. None of it made sense.

She racked her brains to try and discover who might hate her enough to go to all this trouble. Whoever it was, they were very clever. The rest of the evening passed slowly. She was too tired for the gym and couldn’t face her self-defence class. The idea of practising falls and moves to thwart attackers made her feel exhausted. No, she needed an evening off, an evening of distraction. Reading had always been her escape, but she couldn’t shut her thoughts off tonight. She thought about going to the cinema but realised it would be futile. She wouldn’t be able to switch off her thoughts.

She decided to embark on a major cleaning of her flat. She emptied the cupboards and cleaned her oven and fridge. She washed and ironed every item of her clothing apart from what she was wearing, and still, she couldn’t close off the sharp, intrusive chatter in her head. On a nightmarish loop, she rehashed everything. Over and over, she thought about the disaster her life had become. Then, she had a moment of clarity. It was all Mam’s fault. Everything that had happened to her happened because Mam had died. If her mam were alive, she wouldn’t have left Sligo. But Mam had to drive like a lunatic and get herself killed. And now she was on her own. Waves of self-pity and rage consumed her, and the sight of her tidy, spotless flat irritated her beyond reason.

She started pulling cupboards out, emptying them on the floor, kicking chairs over and even tearing the sheets from her freshly made bed. While she ripped and tore, her brain felt mercifully quiet. She was all rage and fury, and then she stopped, and the crying began.

Hours later, she restored some order to the flat, and after checking that she was securely locked in, she made herself a warm drink. She threw the duvet back on her bed and got underneath it. The emotional storm had left her exhausted, but her mind still whirred. Her outburst of rage embarrassed her, but perhaps it was necessary to let some of the pressure out.

As she lay on the bed, she began to look on the positives in her situation. She had made some progress, and Anna and Meg were on board. Both believed her and were willing to help. Anna had a hard time at school but seemed grateful for her kindness. Eimear couldn’t even remember the incident she spoke about. But Anna insisted it happened. But then again, it didn’t have the same importance for Eimear that it did for Anna, who faced the cruelty of teenagers daily.

Giving up trying to work things out, she turned on her side. Mam always told her to think about pleasant things when she couldn’t sleep, but there seemed to be a dearth. Eventually, she drifted into a restless sleep. But her dreams were disturbing. A menacing stranger chased her through foggy streets that echoed with pounding feet.

The next morning, to make up for her laziness yesterday, she went to the gym before breakfast and worked longer and harder than usual. It gave her a real break from her head. One of the guys, a regular in the gym on the weekends, smiled at her when she passed and tried to engage her in conversation. He was cute, and his body was lean rather than muscular. She'd have flirted with him at any other time in her life. But now she had no room for anything but solving this toxic mystery engulfing her. She didn’t need another player clogging the field and distracting her mind. But she couldn’t seem to shake him off. Several times, they headed to the same machine, and she knew it wasn’t an accident. He tried to engage her in conversation, but she was curt and avoided eye contact. He seemed to take her coolness for encouragement, and she tensed. She thought about cutting short her session but felt furious that he should make her feel so intimidated.

She moved to a different part of the gym and started lifting weights. She was bent over, reaching for a heavier kettlebell, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She reacted instinctively, and he landed flat on his back on the floor.

‘You crazy bitch, why did you do that?’ he gasped as he struggled to his feet.

‘You shouldn’t have kept bothering me.’

‘God, you’re a psycho!’

He pushed past her, his face red with anger and humiliation. One of the trainers came over and asked if she was alright. She mumbled something and then fled.

When she got home, she showered and dressed but could not face food. Was this going to be the end of her going to the gym? OK, he was a pest, but she could really have hurt him. She was so wound up that she might lash out anywhere, anytime. For the first time, she was scared she might be a danger to others. The thought troubled her.

Her phone beeped; glancing at it, she noticed a message from Kate and a missed call. The message gave little away but filled her with hope. It said: Got some news. Meet me for a drink at six in Hughes’ bar.

What did it mean? What could Kate have discovered? Should she call Anna and ask her to come along? She hesitated. Maybe she should meet Kate and hear what she had to say, and then she could fill Meg and Anna in later.

At six, she arrived at the bar. It was packed, but eventually she located Kate sipping a glass of beer as she perched on a bar stool. Kate waved and pointed to a second bar stool that she had been guarding.

Eimear gave her drink order and asked her if she wanted another. Kate shook her head.

‘No, I haven’t time. I’m meeting dickhead tonight to sort out the household bills.’

‘OK, you said you had some information for me. I appreciate any help, Kate.’

‘Right, first a bit of office gossip. Hannah, the big dope, is still salivating over Toby. She thinks he was a big hero to stick up for her against big bad you. She still thinks you’re the devil incarnate, but Iris feels guilty. Since you left, Toby has been lording it over everyone and has taken to bossing Iris around. As you know, Iris will do anything if you ask her nicely, but if you start bossing her, then suddenly she’s on a go slow. So I think she’s on the verge of giving you the benefit of the doubt.’

‘You mentioned you might have some information for me.’

‘I haven’t much that’s solid, but Toby and this guy Donal have a connection. He was an old college buddy. Did Donal go to UCD?’

‘Yes, he did. He graduated in 2001.’

‘Well, that sounds right. Toby lived with some lads from down the country – one of them was called Donal. I don’t know about the surname.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘Good question; it was by accident. The two lads, Toby and John, were comparing notes about the social life in the colleges they attended. John went to UCC, and Toby said he went to UCD. I asked him if he stayed at home, seeing as he’s a Dub. He said his parents had bought a house near the college, and he moved in and found a group of lads to rent the place. He was there to keep an eye on things in case it was trashed and turned into a party pad. Anyway, he mentioned that he shared with three lads from Sligo. I asked how he coped living with a load of culchies. Well, he made one of his weak cracks about civilising the country yokels by his refining presence.’

‘God, that’s interesting. But did you get any more information from him?’

‘Hold on, I’m getting to it. I asked him if he kept in touch with any of the lads. He said the Donal lad, and he kept in touch. Then he laughed and said Donal had had a bit of girl trouble, but he was getting it sorted. I didn’t like how he said it. It was a bit creepy. But anyway, it does fit in with some of what you were saying.’

Eimear sat up, electrified. ‘This is wild. Toby shared a house with Donal and is still in touch with him. Oh my God, this could explain a lot. Thank you so much, Kate.’

‘Now hold your horses, and don’t get too carried away. This doesn’t prove anything.’

‘I know it doesn’t prove anything, but at least I have a lead as to why all these things may be happening to me. There’s so much I’d love to tell you but it will have to wait. But this helps. I wish I could make Philip and everyone else believe I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘All I know is that the boss has been looking at Toby oddly lately. I think he’s finding that the golden boy isn’t all he’s cracked up to be, and I know that a few of your clients were disappointed not to have you working for them anymore and weren’t very happy with Toby.’

‘That’s good to know.’

‘Maybe you should call Philip. I think he’d be more receptive to believing you now.’

‘I’m going to wait until I can fully clear my name. But I appreciate the encouragement. Tell Iris I was asking for her.’

‘No way. Look, I don’t mind helping you out, but I’m keeping my head down. I don’t want anyone in the office to know that I’ve met with you. I’ve enough on my plate as it is.’

‘Yes, I understand.’

Kate drained the last of her beer and leaned over to hug Eimear quickly. ‘Good luck,’ she whispered.

Anna was waiting at her door when she arrived back.

Chapter 30

Eimear made tea and filled Anna in on what Kate had told her. The comfort of having a friend who believed in her made such a difference.

‘Well, at least your theory about Toby and Donal is confirmed. They do know each other. Your man, Toby, believed whatever story Donal fed him about your break-up. He must have painted himself as the victim and you as the cruel femme fatale. It probably suited Toby to do you down as a favour for his pal and a benefit to himself.’

‘That makes sense, but I can’t see Toby arranging to have me attacked. He’s a shit but hardly a psychopath.’

‘Then maybe Donal arranged the attacks on you.’

‘Maybe … but I can’t see how he could have known any goons for hire unless he asked Toby, and even Toby would hesitate to get involved with criminals; it would be career suicide. He doesn’t mind doing a few dodgy business deals for them, but no way he would jeopardise his position in the firm.’

‘Would Donal have the money to hire someone? I mean, is he likely to have the cash?’

‘He makes good money as an accountant and comes from a well-off family, so in theory, money wouldn’t be a problem.’

‘I wonder what the going rate for vandalism and breaking into someone's home and attacking them is? Think back to that night. Did you notice the man’s accent? Was he from Dublin?’

‘He didn't say anything.’

‘Is there any chance it could be Donal? I mean, you didn’t see a face, did you?’

Eimear tried to imagine the night again. It was horrible, but she forced herself to go over everything in slow motion: the door opening and the package on the ground. Then, being rushed and thrown on the bed. She remembered with sickening clarity the man’s body lying on top of her and his warm breath on her face. Was it Donal’s body? The man's build was similar to Donal's, and the height was comparable. It was possible, but no, the eyes were wrong. She’d have recognised Donal’s eyes anywhere. It wasn’t him.

‘No, it wasn’t Donal. It could have been someone he sent, but I’m certain the man who attacked me that night wasn’t Donal.’

‘OK, let's leave that for the moment. Your door was vandalised, and the lad was arrested and claimed you paid him for doing the damage. Was he convincing? Do you think he believed you paid him, or was he lying?’

‘Of course, he was bloody lying.’ Eimear glared at Anna. ‘I thought you believed me.’

‘Calm down. I believe you, but I wonder if the boy was tricked into believing you paid him or if he was paid to lie.’

‘What difference does that make?’

‘A huge difference; if the boy was convinced that you were the one paying him, then …’

‘There’s a woman involved, someone made up to look like me. I did wonder, if he just gave a description of my coat or if someone actually dressed up like me to pay him to paint the message on my door. I’ve gone back and forth about it. But I suppose it makes more sense if someone did disguise themselves as me to arrange it with him.’

‘Exactly, think about it: you had just got a distinctive haircut, the woman was wearing a coat like yours, and all she’d need was a short funky wig. Those things would fool the boy. So, he’d identify you and get himself off the hook.’

‘So now I just have to figure out who this woman could be.’

‘Afraid so.’

They stared at each other.

‘Oh god, this keeps getting worse, bad and all as it is to think Donal hates me enough to harm me – now I have to add in a female accomplice. Am I such a hateful person that so many people want to harm me?’

‘Look, this woman could be a friend of Donal’s. What about the lassie he had the fling with? Could she be involved too?’

‘I don’t know too much about her. Donal claimed she had a thing for him and was pestering him. The poor pet only fell for her wiles because I was being difficult and neglectful.’ Eimear’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

‘Are they still an item?’

‘I honestly don’t know or care. When I caught them together, I dumped him, and to be honest I think she did me a favour as I had doubts about Donal. I didn’t like how he monopolised me and bossed me around. Seeing them together just made it easier to end things.’

‘So, you could claim the moral high ground and still be the one who did the dumping.’

‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘Well, I believe in calling a spade a bloody spade. You have to admit it was convenient to discover his affair. It saved you from a disastrous marriage.’

Eimear thought over what Anna said. It had a strong element of truth.

‘OK, that’s probably true. I was upset and betrayed by Donal, but you’re right. Deep down, I was glad to have a decent excuse to end things. He and his family were well respected in our town, and I knew I'd be demonised if I broke up with him. We had booked a wedding venue and told all our friends. It was humiliating for all of us, but after what he did, nobody could blame me for breaking our engagement. This way, even his parents had to accept my decision. Even Donal's mother had to accept her darling son was a sinner.’

‘So, this mystery woman. Could she be behind this? Working with Donal's knowledge to cause you harm?’

‘But why? She’s got what she wanted if Donal was what she wanted.’

‘But has she? He stalked and harassed you for months and was clearly obsessed with you. Then you turned on him and started to make life hot for him. Perhaps she was jealous because, even with you out of the way, he’s still dancing to your tune.’

‘No, this is too far-fetched.’

‘Maybe, but say, after Donal got angry with you for threatening to tell his boss about his behaviour, and you threatened a barring order, she saw a way of helping him get back at you. She joined him in his obsession with you, but this time to destroy you. Think about it. It’s a win for her. She gets to be his collaborator and consolation and has the advantage of seeing you ruined, and Donal is finally free of you.’

‘But that’s mad!’

‘What do you call what’s happening to you? Either you are a fantasist, a paranoid crazy bitch, or someone is out to get you.’

‘Which do you think I am?’

‘I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were the former. I’ve experienced being bullied and gaslighted by people, and I recognise the signs in you. So, I think you’re perfectly sane. A bit annoying, but as sane as most of us anyway.’

Eimear’s eyes filled up. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in ages, insults and all.’

She opened a bottle of wine. Her phone beeped; it was a text from Meg saying that she wanted to FaceTime. But Eimear didn’t feel up to talking with her. She’d contact her aunt later.

‘Right, so what do we do next?’ Anna asked.

It felt so good that she said we, not you, that Eimear’s heart warmed.

‘What do you suggest?’

‘I think you need to find out who this mystery woman is. The locals must know. You need to head back home to Sligo and make enquiries.’

Eimear hesitated. ‘I’m not too popular back home. Donal will have spread the word that I have been wrongly accusing him. And he did say he’d be seeing me. I think he was warning me that he could call to the house anytime he likes. I’m scared. At least here in the flat, I feel relatively safe.’

‘How about I come down with you?’

‘Look, that’s good of you. But you have a job, and pretty soon I won’t have one. So, no to coming down with me. But you’re right, I do need to go. However, I don’t know who would want to help me. Especially if Donal has told everyone that I had been attacking his character, trying to get him in trouble with the guards and attempting to get him fired. I’ll be persona non grata. But you’re right, I have to at least try.’

‘Hold up, I could come down with you at the weekend, and together we might make progress, and you’ll have back-up.’

Eimear grinned at her. ‘Thanks, Cagney.’

‘I’m Lacey, actually. She was my favourite—a strong woman, a detective of sound values and common sense. Cagney was more of a loose cannon.’

‘But I’m only going down for a couple of days. Besides, Meg is hoping to get a flight home soon, so perhaps I’ll delay things until she gets back.’

Then, almost as though she knew Eimear was talking about her, she got a text message from Meg. ‘Well, speak of the devil – Meg can’t get the bloody cats she’s minding sorted out until Saturday, so she won’t be back until Saturday evening. I’ll tell her to fly into Knock airport, and I’ll pick her up from there.’

‘So when are you going to Sligo then? Are you waiting until your aunt gets in?’

‘Mmm, tell you what, Anna, I’ll go down tomorrow, and you can come at the weekend. I’ll keep a low profile and see where I stand with the locals. If Donal’s mother and sister have whipped up a mob of angry villagers, you and Meg can sweep in and save me!’

Anna furrowed her brow. ‘Are you sure it’s safe, Eimear? I mean, you are more defenceless in Sligo.’

‘Not so defenceless. My dad kept a shotgun, I don’t think it works, but hopefully any intruders won’t know that.’

Anna wasn’t too happy with Eimear’s decision to leave for Sligo and tried to persuade her to wait until she could join her at the weekend. Eventually, she gave up and headed back to her little basement flat.

Chapter 31

Meg was horrified when she told her about her plan to go home.

‘Are you mad, Eimear? There is some lunatic out there wishing to harm you, and here you are making it easy for them.’

‘I know it seems mad, but we have a theory that Donal may be working with this woman he had an affair with. Together, they are succeeding in turning everyone against me. We think it's about time that I found out who she is. Then, at least, I can work out a way to stop them.’

‘I suppose Anna put you up to this?’

‘I know you are suspicious of her, Meg, but I’m certain she’s on my side. What possible reason could she have to want to harm me?’

‘You said yourself that she was bullied at your school. Maybe she thinks of you as one of her tormentors and is just pretending to like you.’

‘Please, give it a rest, Meg. Anna doesn’t even want me to go to Sligo. She suggested waiting until the weekend when you and she can be there.’

Meg sighed. ‘Well, that’s something, I suppose. And are you going to take her advice, even though you won’t take mine?’

‘I’m going down tomorrow. I’ll only be there two nights before you get in. So please try not to worry.’

‘I don’t understand why you can’t just wait a couple of days until I can be with you?’

‘I know it would be more sensible, but I need to feel like I’m doing something. At least I can make a few inquiries about this girl Donal was seeing behind my back. I can find out if they’re still seeing each other. It’s so frustrating just waiting for things to happen.’

‘What did she look like? By the time myself and Claire arrived she had gone back to sit in the car and we were too busy looking after you to take any notice of her.’

‘Yeah, I got a good look. She even had the gall to introduce herself. Once she said her name, I remembered it from a card Donal had sent me by mistake. She wasn’t very tall, and she had long brown curly hair. She was very made-up, like she was going for a night on the town. I remember thinking afterwards that she didn’t seem like Donal’s type. He always hated girls who wore a lot of make-up. After that, I was too busy shouting at Donal to pay her any more attention.’

‘Didn’t you ask Donal who she was? Surely that was the natural thing to do.’

‘Well, I didn’t know there were rules for when your fiancé cheated on you. I didn’t care who she was. I was just raging that he cheated and made a fool out of me.’

Meg looked chastened. ‘Aww, pet, I’m sorry. I feel so helpless and afraid for you. I’ve let you and Claire down. She must be turning in her grave at how I’ve left you to cope with all this alone.’

‘Meg, I didn’t want to spoil your adventure, so I didn’t tell you about it. At first, I thought I had the gardaí on my side to help, but then things just escalated. I think I was paralysed with anxiety about the whole situation. Besides I didn’t think there was anything that you could do except be freaked out.’

‘Well, I’m able to help now.’

‘Did you get Pixie and Trixie sorted?’

‘Eventually, but only after contacting practically every cattery in London, but finally I got them sorted. To tell you the truth I was seriously thinking of just abandoning them and letting Jill come back from her trip early. But anyway, I’m dropping them off on Saturday morning and I’ve managed to get a flight to Knock that evening. It’s getting in at seven-thirty. Will you be able to meet me?’

‘I’ll be there on the dot. I’m looking forward to seeing you.’

‘OK, that’s great, but please, Eimear, I wish you’d stay put until we can go home together. People will probably talk to me easier than to you. So why not wait? It’s only a few days.’

‘I tell you what, Meg, I’ll think about it.’

‘That’s just code for – I’ll say anything to get you off my case.’

Eimear laughed, ‘You know me so well.’

They ended the call with Meg warning her to put the alarm on when she was in the house and not be alone with Donal for any reason.

Eimear threw a few things in a bag the next morning and headed for home. It was just after the morning rush hour, and the traffic was light. She played the loudest, most upbeat music on the drive, anything to distract her from what lay ahead. She still didn’t know how to get the information she needed, but there was bound to be someone she could persuade or trick into revealing who the woman was. When she tired of the music and intrusive thoughts returned, she listened to an audiobook, desperate to keep her mind off the shit storm that was her life. It worked, and for a couple of hours, she was lost in the world of Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier.

As she drove up the long driveway to her old home, she was struck anew by its bleakness. The place looked abandoned. All the usual signs of occupation were absent. Her mother would have been busy pruning the garden for the coming of spring, but instead, everything was overgrown and neglected. The windows Mam kept shiny with the aid of the local window cleaner were grimy. Weeds were forcing their way through the gravelled walkway. If a house could look dispirited or despairing, that was how it appeared. Mam would be sad to see this air of neglect, especially in the garden, which was her pride and pleasure.

Eimear made a mental promise to do something about the neglect. The place needed to be maintained. It deserved it. After she turned off the alarm and made herself a coffee, she called Alf, the window cleaner and arranged for him to call the following day. The gardener, a grumpy old man named Matt, was less cooperative. He insisted that he was very busy with all his regular clients. She knew he was making a dig at her for not booking him earlier.

‘Sorry, Matt, I know how keen everyone is to get you working on the gardens, but since Mam died, I’ve been away, and when I came home today, I was shocked at the state of the garden. Mam would be heartbroken. You know how she loved her garden.’

‘Aye, your mam was a good gardener for an amateur. We didn’t always see eye to eye on plants, but she was a lovely lady. Look, I’ll see what I can do. How about I call around in the morning to have a look? Then I’ll see if I can fit you in. For your mam’s sake.’

‘Matt, that would be great. I’ll be around all morning, but sure, even if I’m not, you can look and see what needs doing.’

That afternoon, Eimear did some household chores, hoovering the floors and washing the windows inside the house. Alf used to do the windows inside and out for Mam, but Eimear didn’t fancy anyone wandering through the house. Then, a thought struck her. All the cleaning she was doing reminded her. Marie O’Brien used to clean for her mother. Once a fortnight, she gave the place a thorough going over, lifting furniture, washing skirting boards and cleaning out the kitchen cupboards. Eimear’s mam had given her a key and the alarm code. After Claire died, Marie didn’t return them. The idea of the keys to her house being out there was disturbing. Marie was a decent woman but careless. What if Donal got hold of her keys? The idea made her heart hammer uncomfortably. She needed to get them back or at least know they were safe. She found her number in the address book her mother kept by the telephone. There was no answer. She tried to dampen down her anxiety. An hour later, she tried the number again. On the third ring, it was answered.

‘Hi Marie, this is Eimear Martin here.’

‘Aww, Eimear, how nice to hear from you. I was that sorry to hear about your poor mam. Jim and I were at the funeral to pay our respects.’

‘I know, Marie; thank you so much. Mam appreciated all your hard work over the years for her.’

‘That’s nice to know. Are you looking for me to do a cleaning for you?’

‘I’d love that, Marie. Perhaps we could arrange something soon, but I’m calling because I’ve lost my front door key. It’s probably somewhere in the garden, but it means I can’t properly lock up. I know that Mam gave you the keys so that you could easily come and go. And I was hoping you’d still have them.’

‘No, love. Don’t you remember you sent me a wee note and asked me to drop the keys in the post-box at the door?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t remember doing that. Are you sure?’

‘Positive, sure, it was just a few days after the funeral. I figured that with your mother gone, you were planning to sell up. Didn’t you get the keys, then?’

‘Marie, do you still have that note from me?’

‘I’m sorry, Eimear – do you not believe me?’ Marie’s usually friendly voice suddenly sounded terse.

‘Of course I do. It’s just that lately I’ve realised I made many decisions in haste. It was a confusing time for me if you recall. With the wedding cancellation and then my mother dying, I was a bit all over the place. I just wanted to see what I wrote. God knows what else I did.’

Eimear realised her explanation for wanting to see the note was weak, but she hoped that if Marie still had it, she might recognise the handwriting. But instead, she had offended Marie, and it was ridiculous to think she’d have hung on to the note.

‘Aww, love, you’ve had it hard. You were too good for that pup.’

‘Marie, please don’t answer if you’d rather not, but do you know if the woman my ex was with is still around? I’d hate to run into her.’

‘No idea, darlin'. No one seemed to know who she was. She was a bit of a mystery woman, but your man, Donal, doesn’t seem to be hanging around with anyone in particular. As for the note, it’s long gone. You thanked me for all my help over the years and asked me to drop off the keys. I didn’t do wrong, did I?’

‘Not at all. Thanks again, Marie.’

‘But are you locked out, pet?’

‘No, I have a back door key, thank goodness.’

She ended the call. That could explain how the cross and chain might have disappeared from her mother’s jewellery box … but she was certain she had taken it back to Dublin in her handbag.

Impulsively, she ran outside to check the post box at the end of the drive. Usually, the postman drove up to the house, but when Mam was away, she didn’t like the idea of the letters piling up by the door. It was she believed an invitation to thieves that the house was unoccupied. The box wasn’t locked. Mam was hopeless about keeping it locked, forever losing her key for it. The postman only used it when she told him she was going to be away. It contained junk mail and nothing else. Someone had dropped a note to Marie telling her to drop off the keys. Marie didn’t know her handwriting, so she would have just done what was asked of her in the note. Could it be Donal or this mystery woman he had an affair with? The idea that Donal could wander into her house terrified her. It was too late to do anything about changing her locks today. The shops would be shut. But tonight, she would barricade the door and root out her father’s shotgun.

There was a heavy dresser in the hallway, and with a struggle she slid it into place across the front door. She scratched the wooden hall floor, but that couldn’t be helped. The dresser would stay there, and she would enter and leave the house through the back door. She stared at the alarm. Marie had the code. She cleaned for several people in the area. Some of them had alarms. Where did she keep those alarm codes? Could they be easily accessed? But then again, Donal had seen her enter the code dozens of times. He probably even used the code himself. Feeling nervous, she turned on the alarm and went to bed in her mother's bedroom.

Chapter 32

The following morning, the window cleaner arrived and cleaned all the windows. He was there for nearly two hours. She replenished his bucket with hot, soapy water a couple of times. After he had finished with the windows, she made him a cup of tea and listened as he shared nice memories of her parents. When he left, she could see the difference he had made. The sad air of neglect was lifted, and the place was brighter. She knew she was being fanciful, but the house seemed happier somehow. Matt arrived at lunchtime, and she invited him into the kitchen, made him coffee and supplied him with biscuits. She had to listen to many silly yarns before he would even look at the garden. Matt certainly liked to talk. After he had his fill and gave a little speech about what a fine woman her mother was, he walked the garden with her. As he looked around, he tutted about the neglect.

‘Your mother wouldn’t have let things get this bad; she’d have had me over to set things right months ago.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry, but I’ve been busy.’

‘Well, there’s a bit to do. I’m busy for the next week, but I should be able to fit you in the next Wednesday if that suits you. The job should take about a week and I’ll need to order a skip.’

‘That’ll be great, Matt. I’ll probably not be here, but you can work away, and I’ll fix up with you when I’m next down. Will that be alright?’

They shook hands, and she felt lonely as she watched Matt leave. But at least she had done her duty by Mam by making sure her garden was going to get the care it needed. Determined not to allow herself to be gloomy, she decided to take a trip into town. She needed to buy supplies anyway, and there wasn’t much to eat. Yesterday, she had dined on fish fingers and beans. Besides, she needed to arrange to have the locks changed.

On impulse, she rang Lana. She was surprised to hear from Eimear but sounded pleased, too. They arranged to meet the following day for coffee at eleven in the central hotel.

The next morning, Eimear drove into Sligo town and parked in the Connaughton Road car park. She strolled into the hotel and chose a window seat overlooking the Garavogue River. The whoosh of the river as it rushed by acted as a soothing balm to her nerves.

Lana arrived right on time. Her slight figure was wrapped in a heavy winter coat. She took it off, freed her fair hair from her beanie and grinned at Eimear.

‘I was so pleased you called me, Eimear. I’m owed a bit of time off, so I was able to arrange an extra-long morning break. Unfortunately, I have to be back at twelve.’

Lana worked for a travel agency. She was its backbone, and Eimear reckoned her employers were terrified she’d leave them. So they’d be willing to bend over backwards to keep her.

‘It’s lovely to see you, Lana. You look great.’

It was true. Lana glowed with wholesome prettiness.

‘Thanks, Eimear. You always look good, but I have to say you look a little thin and tired. Are you OK? I know you’ve been through a lot. It must be hard losing your mam so suddenly.’

‘Yes, it was, but at least she didn’t suffer.’

‘How’s Meg? I helped her plan her big trip. At first, she planned to book a complete package, but in the end she decided to take it at her own pace. It turned out that she had people to stay with, in the different cities. How’s it going for her?’

‘She’s having the time of her life. I was glad to see her getting away. Mam’s death and the accident hit her very hard. It was nice for her to get away from all the memories and still have friends to call on. I think it was the best of both worlds for her.’

‘I’m delighted for her. She was so good to us when we were teens, picking us up from the pub when we were the worse for wear and hiding our condition from your mam when I stayed over. She was a legend!’

Eimear ordered coffee for them both. When it arrived, Eimear decided not to waste any more time on small talk.

‘Lana, you know how Donal and I broke up?’ she said abruptly.

Lana looked startled. ‘Yes, Eimear, we were all gutted for you. But the guy didn’t deserve you.’

‘Yeah, well, I know that I had a lucky escape. But I wonder if you happened to know the girl he was seeing behind my back?’

Lana looked uncomfortable, and Eimear reassured her. ‘No, I’m not seeking revenge. It’s just that I’ve recently encountered a girl who looks like the girl I saw with Donal. She has curly brown hair, and I think her name is Susan. Does that ring any bells with you?’

Lana still looked uncertain.

‘Hey, Lana, I don’t hold anything against this girl. In fact, I owe her my thanks. Donal and I would never have worked.’

‘Eimear, I don’t know how to tell you this, but there’s a rumour going around in our group that you have been trying to make life tough for Donal, trying to make him lose his job and get him in trouble with the guards. I don’t want to open any old wounds.’

Eimear flushed. ‘Lana, I’m not vindictive. I don’t care about Donal. I want nothing to do with him. But I have a special reason for asking about this girl. I promise you that I don’t mean either Donal or her harm. Don’t you believe me?’

Lana looked into Eimear’s face. ‘The Eimear I know is a decent human being, and I’d be willing to bet that anything Donal has to say is not to be believed. But I really don’t know very much. This is all I know: her name is Susan Crossley. She was a client in the firm Donal works for. I suppose that’s how they met. I don’t know if she knew about you, probably not.’

‘Are they still seeing each other?’

‘I’m not certain, but one of the girls from work, Katherine, said she saw them together in a restaurant recently. They weren’t exactly cuddling up, but they did seem to be having fairly intense conversations.’

‘Thanks, Lana. I appreciate you telling me, and I promise you I have no desire to hurt either of them. All I want is to be left alone.’

Lana nodded and then blurted, ‘Have you seen Jen recently?’

‘Jen doesn’t talk to me anymore. She blames me for the break-up with Donal and couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t give him another chance.’

Lana leaned forward in her seat and took a breath.

‘Jen is spitting bricks about you and badmouthing you to anyone who’ll listen. She said that you were on a mission to ruin her brother. She said the most awful things. I had to avoid her because she has become so toxic.’

‘That’s a pity. I was very fond of Jen.’

‘We all were, but lately, she’s become really hard. It’s difficult to talk to her. If I were you, I’d keep well away from her.’

‘One more thing, Lana. Do you remember a girl called Anna French from school?’

Lana closed her eyes and wrinkled her forehead as she cast her mind back a dozen years. Finally, she opened her eyes. ‘Yes, I remember her. She had a bad time at school. I’m afraid she was bullied horribly – she was given a mean nickname.’

‘Stenchy Frenchie.’

‘Yes, some of the girls were really nasty. But I’m ashamed to say none of us were particularly nice to her. I think there were lots of problems at home. She left school the year before her Leaving Cert. Why do you ask?’

‘I’ve met up with her recently. Lana, can you remember if I was mean to her?’

‘Eimear, you were too busy studying and daydreaming about Mr Lynch to bother anyone. Don’t you remember we all fancied him but you used to write his name in your copybook over and over and combine it with yours?’

‘God, I had forgotten all about him! What happened to him? Is he still in St Phil’s?’

‘No, he’s a principal at some school in the midlands now. Where did you come across Anna French?’

‘I met her in the park one day. She seems happy now.’

‘I’m so glad. Wait, I've only just remembered … Anna had a breakdown. And I think that was what was blamed for her attack on Ginny Adams. That’s why she left before her Leaving Cert. Ginny was giving her a hard time, and Anna attacked her and beat her up pretty badly.’

‘How did I not know about that?’

‘Well, I think the nuns hushed it up. The Adamses weren’t happy to have Ginny’s behaviour made common knowledge, so Anna left the school and the incident wasn’t publicised.’

Eimear sat for a moment thinking about Anna. It explained a lot about her. Eimear remembered Ginny. She was in the group she hung about with in school. They weren’t close but they did go to the same parties and hung out with the same crowd. She tried to remember if she witnessed any of Ginny’s bullying behaviour towards Anna. But at that time she was totally caught up with herself, and her crush on Mr Lynch to notice much else. When Ginny left, her close friends were very mysterious about it. But she assumed her dad had got a transfer – he was a bank manager. She was aware of the rumours about Anna having a breakdown, but was ashamed to realise she barely gave her a thought. It was disturbing to think how completely self-absorbed she was at that time. She finished her coffee and saw Lana glancing at her watch.

‘Thanks, Lana, and thanks for meeting up with me. I appreciate it. You’re a better friend than I deserve.’

‘It was my pleasure. Now, look at the time; I had better get back to work. Thanks for the chat and the coffee.’

Eimear sat thinking over everything Lana had told her. It raised interesting possibilities. Donal was still involved with Susan Crossley, and his sister Jen was badmouthing her. Was it possible that either Jen or Susan were working hand in hand to ruin her life? But it all seemed so madly far-fetched. Sighing with frustration, she paid for her coffee and left the hotel.

Sligo was quiet. The shops were half full, which suited her, as there was less chance of bumping into people she knew. She got the few items she needed in the supermarket – just a few things to tide her over. When Meg came home, she’d do a big shop for her and let her stay in Mam’s house until her renters moved out. She reminded herself that she needed to go to the locksmith. But first, she ran into the pharmacy to pick up some painkillers. The pharmacist reminded her that there was a prescription for her too. At first, she was puzzled and then remembered Dr Murphy had prescribed antidepressants. She had better get them filled; it was easier than trying to explain that she didn’t need them.

While waiting to pay, a woman pushed past her. Donal’s mother. The woman’s face flushed bright red when she saw Eimear.

‘You have some cheek to show your face here after what you put my Donal through!’

Eimear was uncomfortably aware that the entire shop could hear the woman practically bellowing at her. She grabbed the package the pharmacist handed her, put what she owed on the counter, and tried to retreat from the shop.

But the woman got between her and the door.

‘Yes, you might well look shifty, the state of you. My Donal was lucky to have got away from you.’

‘Please let me pass, Mrs Carty.’

‘I’m not stopping you, or will you accuse me too? You’re great at the false accusations, aren’t you?’

The customers were openly gawking at her, and Eimear felt her face burn with embarrassment. Desperate, she pushed past the shouting woman and fled the shop. She hurried off as fast as she could in case the mad witch would follow her. She was relieved to get in her car and put distance between herself and the angry woman. Her plans to arrange for a locksmith to call were forgotten until she was on the outskirts of the town. Should she go back? She would feel safer if she could change the locks. That’s all she seemed to be doing lately: changing locks. But she still didn’t feel any safer. A curious listlessness assailed her. She was just so tired of it all. Mrs Carty’s verbal attack on her was the last straw.

When she got home, she called the locksmith’s, and someone promised to call the following afternoon. She put the groceries away and prepared a quick meal. The house phone rang, startling her. Who could be ringing her? Who knew she was home? Steeling herself, she answered it.

‘Hello, love, I was just wondering how you’re doing?’

It was a relief and a pleasure to hear Meg’s warm voice.

‘I’m grand. I just finished dinner. How are you?’

‘All good here. I’m just cleaning the flat so that it looks nice when Jill returns. What about you? Is everything OK? Donal hasn’t been near you, has he?’

‘No, I haven’t seen Donal. But I met up with Lana and she filled me in on a few things. Look, we can talk when you get in the day after tomorrow. Looking forward to having a proper chat.’

‘Me too, then we can properly get to the bottom of everything.’

‘Listen, Meg, I have to go. I’ve left a tap running, and I think I left the stopper in the sink, so I better go in case there’s a flood.’

Eimear disliked lying, but she wasn’t sure she could keep up a pretence that all was well against Meg’s probing. She could never hide things from Meg. She knew her too well.

The phone rang out again, causing her to jump. Probably Meg ringing her back to find out if the sink had overflowed.

‘It’s OK, Meg, there’s no flood.’

‘Eimear.’

Her fingers tightened on the phone’s receiver when she heard his voice. ‘What do you want, Donal?’

‘Mother said she saw you in the chemist today. I hear she gave you a nice welcome back.’

‘Leave me alone, Donal.’

‘Or what, Eimear? What will you do? Set your friendly garda on to me. No, I didn’t think so. He knows you’ve been a naughty girl, so I don’t think the gallant Alec will be rushing to the rescue, do you?’

‘Why are you doing all this to me? I know about how you and Toby shared a flat in Dublin. I know that with his help, you managed to turn the office against me. But setting thugs on me is a bit low even for you.’

‘So, it’s true you are completely delusional. Alec said as much. He tried to explain away your behaviour as a mental breakdown. He worried I might press charges against you—poor little Eimear. But you know what? I impressed him by taking the higher moral ground and not being vindictive. I don’t have the slightest idea of what you’re accusing me of this time. But you really must stop blowing hot and cold with me. One time, you’re begging me to come to you – the next, you’re acting all terrified. How about I drop by? Then we can discuss all your crazy theories and persecution complexes.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Donal, but I’ve changed the locks, so don’t think about it. I promise you’ll regret it.’

There was a long sigh. ‘Come on, Eimear, stop playing games. I’m getting tired of it. Perhaps next time, I won’t bother to join in. I care about you. You know I do, but I don’t like you messing with my head.’ Then, in a soft, coaxing voice, he added. ‘Eimear, I know I messed up. I let you down. But you’ve made me suffer for it long enough. Remember how good we used to be together. Remember Italy.’

Images filled her mind, technicolour memories of wandering through sunlit streets, gondola rides at sunset, and lazy afternoons sipping wine and making love. It was another world when everything was simple, and they were achingly in love. His voice broke the spell.

‘Come on, Eimear, you know we were so good together. Don’t throw it all away by being angry. Let’s start again.’

‘Donal, that was the past, it’s over. We’re over!’

‘If it was about me cheating, I promise it will never happen again.’

‘It was more than the cheating; it was all the other things. Donal, we were never right together. Please leave me alone.’

‘That’s so funny, Eimear. Let me leave you alone. The whole place knows about your vendetta. There’s hardly a person here who doesn’t know about the games you’ve been playing.’

She listened to his harsh laugh and the sarcasm in his voice. He was delusional. He had to be. ‘Donal, there’s no point in talking anymore.’ She replaced the receiver as he started to argue.

But his wheedling voice, with its empty promises, was stuck in her head. What had he meant by her vendetta against him? It was typical of him to gaslight her and pretend she was messing with him. He had even convinced Alec. But it worried her. For a brief moment, she thought: maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m doing all these things, self-sabotaging and lashing out. Maybe Mam’s death coming so soon after the breakup with Donal has unhinged me.

She searched the drinks cabinet and found a bottle of her mother’s best whiskey. It wasn’t her favourite drink, but any port in a storm. She poured herself a good measure. As the liquid hit the back of her throat, it braced her. Doubting herself was falling into Donal’s sick plan. Someone was doing their best to wreck her life, and she was damned if she was going to help them by starting to doubt her sanity.

Should she head back to Dublin? But he could be waiting outside, calling her on his mobile phone. He could be lying in wait for her right now. No, she’d stick it out. She was locked in and had barricaded the door. Then she had an even more terrifying thought. What if he was already in the house? But no, that was impossible. The dresser hadn’t been moved, and he didn’t have a key for the back door, not if he was using Marie O’Brien’s set. She was almost certain that Marie’s set was only for the front door.

But to ease her mind, she armed herself with her mother’s golf club and went from room to room. All were empty. Well, everything seemed secure upstairs. She was about to return the golf club to the bag with the rest of the clubs when she thought better of it and decided to keep it handy just in case. She left it in the living room.

She found her father’s shotgun locked in a box in the cloakroom. She took it out. It wasn’t loaded, but she knew there were cartridges in the scullery up high on a shelf beside the fuse box. Balancing on a stool, she located a box of cartridges. She wasn’t sure if she could load the gun. She was only five when her father died, so she had never learned how to shoot. Her mam hated guns but couldn’t bring herself to get rid of them because her father liked them. She’d have a go loading it later. Maybe there’d be instructions online as to how to do it safely. She was nervous about guns and was half afraid she’d accidentally shoot herself.

She settled down on the couch and watched some YouTube videos on loading shotguns. The guns in the videos were different models from her Dad’s gun. But she hoped the methodology was similar. She practised loading and unloading the gun. It wasn’t exactly a smooth operation, but she managed it. She felt nervous keeping a loaded shotgun beside her, but the alternative was even more unnerving. It was better to be sure than sorry.

She made a bed for herself on the sofa in the living room. It felt safer than going upstairs – at least she’d be able to hear any sound of Donal trying to enter her home. She lay on the couch watching TV and tried not to jump at all the creaks and rustles that were part of the fabric of such an old house. Eventually, she dropped off to sleep.

Chapter 33

Eimear didn’t know what had awakened her. But her body was tense, and she strained to hear. Her first thought was that someone was trying to get in through the front door, and her barricade was hampering them. But no, the sound was coming from the kitchen. She had locked the back door she was sure. But there was a sound of footsteps coming from there. The pounding of her heart and the blood pumping fiercely through her veins made it difficult to hear. Maybe it was all a dream. Then she heard the sound of the kitchen door opening into the hallway.

It was the signal to leap into action. There was no time to call the guards for help. She picked up the shotgun, her hands shook uncontrollably. They were slick with sweat, and her heart felt like it was trying to break free of her chest. Terrified, she heard footsteps coming down the passageway and stopping outside the living room. Her body felt hot and cold simultaneously.

‘Whoever is out there, I’ve got a shotgun, and I’m going to fire as soon as you open the door!’ she screamed, hating the panic in her voice. ‘I mean it, I’m so scared I won’t hesitate!’

There was no response. How difficult was it to shoot a gun? In movies, they spoke of recoil or misfiring, which meant the gun backfired. She could end up killing herself. Mesmerised, she watched as the handle turned slowly. Not daring to breathe, she waited, paralysed with fear. Her sweaty fingers slipped over the trigger. The door opened.

‘Eimear, it’s me, you said …’

‘Keep away, Donal, I mean it. I'll fire if you come a step closer.’

‘Look, I’m tired of this game you're playing. Put the gun down, and we can talk.’

‘Don’t come any nearer, Donal. I mean it!’

‘Come on, Eimear, you don’t know how to use that thing. You look more scared of it than of me.’

Then he moved rapidly and snatched the shotgun from her grasp and made it safe. She stood staring at him, unable to move. Think, she told herself, you’ve been training for this for weeks—all those self-defence classes. Don’t be a helpless victim. Don’t make it easy for him to hurt you. She could hear her teacher Fiona’s voice: ‘Use his strength against him.’ She stood still, waiting for him to make his move.

He reached out and grasped her shoulders. Moving back rapidly, she rammed the heel of her hand hard against his nose. He squealed and dropped to his knees in pain. She bolted past him for the door. She headed for the front door, forgetting momentarily it was barricaded. She froze, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her round. She elbowed him violently in his stomach and kicked at his kneecap – unfortunately she wasn’t wearing shoes and though it caused him to buckle it didn’t disable him. Already he was back on his feet. Terrified, she went for the stairs, but by the time she started to run up them, Donal was hard on her heels, still clutching his bleeding nose.

‘You fucking bitch!’ he roared.

Frantically she raced up the stairs and heard his ragged breathing as he followed her. She knew he would gain on her before she got to the top. He grabbed her ankle, and she fell. He pulled her around to face him and raised his hand to strike her. She braced herself, trying to plan her next move. Donal loomed over her, and then she heard a loud smack. Donal stared glassy-eyed at her as he slowly slid to the ground. His body fell heavily against her, and he moaned. She looked over his shoulder and saw Meg wielding her mother’s golf club high over her head. She brought it down again across Donal’s head, leaving a dinge that sent blood flying, spattering globs of it and brain matter against her face. Horrified, she watched as Meg was about to strike again. She dragged her body free of Donal’s and pulled the club from her aunt's grasp.

Meg grabbed Eimear to her and hugged her hard.

‘I thought he was going to kill you!’ she sobbed.

Eimear stared down at Donal’s prone body, lying motionless. ‘I think he’s dead,’ she whispered through dry lips.

They stood clinging to each other, frozen in place. Eimear buried her face in Meg’s shoulder, unable to look at Donal. Everything seemed to have slowed down. She tried to speak, but her lips were stiff, and her tongue too heavy for speech.

Then, with a gigantic effort, she pulled herself free of Meg. She looked back at Donal’s body sprawled across the stairs.

‘We better get the gardaí and an ambulance,’ Eimear said, surprised by how steady her voice was.

‘I’ll call them, Eimear. But I think we both need a drink.’

She pushed Eimear toward the kitchen. As she dragged herself on leaden feet into the warm room, she heard Meg asking for an ambulance and the gardaí. What was she doing here? What did Meg tell her to do? Then she remembered she had to get them drinks. She got Mam’s whiskey from the cupboard. Her hands trembling uncontrollably, she tried to pour whiskey into two glasses; some of the liquid spilt onto the table. She was staring at it, mesmerised, when Meg returned.

‘The gardai are on their way. I called for an ambulance, too. Before the guards arrive, we need to talk. But Eimear, first, will you do something for me? Will you double-check that Donal is dead? I want to know that he wasn’t just stunned, and we could do CPR or something.’

Seeing the fear and reluctance on Eimear’s face – she added. ‘Please, love, I really can’t face it.’

‘Christ, Meg, he looked well beyond help. But I’ll check.’

Bracing herself, she walked with dragging feet to where Donal’s body lay; one of his shoes had come off, and his nose and mouth were stained with blood from where she had hit him. Thankfully, she couldn’t see the damage to his skull. His eyes were open, and he stared sightlessly at the ceiling. She resisted an insane desire to put his shoe back on, as though by restoring it, everything would return to normal. It was pointless, but she rested her fingers on his wrist to check for a pulse. Nothing.

She returned to the kitchen. Meg was topping up her glass.

‘OK, drink first, talk later.’

Eimear took a gulp; it tasted rough, but she wasn’t used to whiskey. She stared at Meg. ‘You saved my life.’

Meg smiled weakly. ‘Well, I did one good thing with my day anyway.’

‘But Meg, how are you here? You were supposed to be in London. How did you get here?’

‘Did you think I was going to let my only niece return to this house all alone while a deranged lunatic was stalking her? Please, what sort of aunt do you take me for?’

‘God, I’m so grateful you were here, but where were you? How did you get here? I spoke to you only yesterday.’

‘Well, it’s a very long story, and perhaps now is the time that you understand everything. But, Eimear, you don’t look well at all – you look like you are about to faint.’

As if through a fog, Eimear stared at her aunt. Her legs felt like jelly, and her head swam. She allowed Meg to help her to her mother’s armchair. She badly wanted to tell Meg not to take her there. This was Mam’s chair, and the outline of her body was still etched on the cushions. But she felt strangely helpless, like a passive child. Was this shock? She felt strange.

Meg hushed her as she tried to speak. ‘Here, have a little more whiskey; it will help clear your head.’

Eimear shook her head, but Meg insisted that she take another gulp. Her head felt cloudy, and her whole body felt as though it was wrapped in cotton wool. Nothing was getting through. She closed her eyes and then felt the harsh sting of a slap, and then another and another.

PART 2

MEG

Chapter 34

Appearances are deceptive. Here I am, on the surface the fun auntie, the helpful co-worker, the devoted daughter – good old dependable Meg. But the other Meg was hiding in plain sight – watching and listening. I wasn’t always this way. I was once exactly as I appeared, that is, until that day – the day when the scales dropped from my eyes, and I saw everything clearly. I was born with blinkers on, only able to see what I was allowed to see. But when I finally learned the truth, so many things made sense. It was like everything was illuminated, and all the dim spaces were exposed to the light.

It had started as such an ordinary day. As usual, I was pining for my big sister Claire. At least I shared that in common with my mother: we both missed Claire. I can’t remember what I was doing – probably trying to avoid annoying Mother. She and I didn’t get on well. I was a disappointment to her, an irritant. I had given up trying to understand why I pained her so much. Her face generally looked sour when she saw me, like she had a bad taste in her mouth. Since Claire married, we had been thrown together more than we liked. She and I lived alone. Daddy died when I was a little girl, and then Claire went off to college. Then, after a short stint working locally as a teacher, she married James and moved with him into the big house outside the village. When I complained about how little I saw of her, Mother snapped, ‘What do you expect?’ Claire was a married woman and had no time to waste on the likes of me. So Mother and I put up with each other, each missing Claire and resenting each other.

On the day of enlightenment, when the world shifted on its axis, I was just thirteen, a miserable hormonal mess. I was recently released from boarding school in Galway and was home for the long summer holidays. I kept out of Mother’s way, a mutually agreeable tactic. But the cold weather drove me inside in search of a tasty snack or at least an apple to take to my bedroom, where I could curl up and read my book. I was passing through the hallway en route to the kitchen when I heard voices from the drawing room. If I had kept walking, everything might have been different, but I didn’t. Mother only brought her special friends into the drawing room – the solicitor, the doctor, their wives and, of course, the priest. The kitchen wasn’t good enough for them.

Despite my mother’s efforts to cure me of the habit, I was always a curious child. ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ she would say whenever I asked too many questions. The door was slightly ajar, and I stood there ready to indulge my curiosity, undeterred by criticism. I could glimpse Mother in her perfectly ironed dress, her hair tightly curled and in regimented waves as she squatted on the edge of her armchair. Mother never slouched or sank into a chair; she perched as though ready to take off. The other occupant was her sister Agnes. I was surprised to see her here as the sisters had a frosty relationship. My curiosity intensified. Something juicy was coming; I just knew it. Agnes was possibly the ugliest woman I ever saw – to describe her as homely would be an injustice to the plain. The overall impression she gave was a sky before rain. Her hair, clothing, and face had an ashen cast. And, of course, several grey hairs sprouted from the moles, liberally decorating her face. Some days, I amused myself by counting them.

I was just about to give up and head to the kitchen to nab some biscuits from the larder when I realised they were talking about me.

‘Della, you really should tell the girl. It will all come out sometime, and it’s better she knows the truth from you than hear it from someone else.’

My skin prickled with excitement.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no way she could find out – only the three of us know what happened.’

‘What about the father? Why the big secret? I mean, it’s not as if I’m going to say anything. Come on, Della, who was he?’

‘It really doesn’t matter now. The point is Claire refused to tell us anything.’

‘But, surely, she can’t have had that many opportunities, to well ... you know.’

‘I think your obsession with knowing who Meg’s father was is unadulterated nosiness.’

‘Well, excuse me, I just thought whoever he is, he might be a bit curious about how his child turned out.’

‘Well, I have no idea who he is, and I really see no purpose in talking about it.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll not ask again, but I think you know more than you’re letting on. I’ve known you all your life, and I can tell when you’re being mysterious. But I’ll hold my tongue.’

‘That will make a change. You have never been known for holding your tongue.’

‘Well, I may as well hold it because you never listened to me anyway. If you remember, at the time, I told you that Claire should have had the child adopted, instead of that ridiculous plan of pretending the baby was yours. I still can’t believe how you pulled the wool over everyones’ eyes.’

‘You know well that that’s what I wanted, but Claire wouldn’t hear of it! I was afraid she was going to brazen things out and parade her bastard around the village. You know my solution was the only compromise that she accepted.’

‘What did Patrick think about it? Becoming a father again in his fifties.’

‘Look, I really don’t know why you’re bringing all this up now. The important thing is that Claire didn’t have to have her whole life ruined by a foolish mistake.’

My heart pounded so loud and hard against my chest that I was afraid they could hear it. Everything slowed down – my breath, my thoughts – all I could do was listen. What did this mean? I was so frozen with excitement that I almost missed them moving to the door. I fled, but I was certain that Mother had seen me.

I ran outside to the garden shed. It smelled mouldy and damp, but I didn’t mind. I needed to think. Could it be? Was Claire my mother, not my sister? I sat on an old car tyre and tried to make sense of things.

I loved Claire; she was my big sister, my comfort when I was sad and the one person in the world that I truly loved and who loved me. That she was my mother overwhelmed me. But it all made sense. The woman I called mother all my life was cold, critical, and impossible to please. The only thing we agreed on was our devotion to Claire. I was dazzled by happiness. My real mother loved me, and my pretend mother was my grandmother. It all made sense. I knew Mother didn’t like me. She insisted I call her ‘Mother’, not mammy or mam like my friends addressed their mothers. Yet, she let Claire call her ‘mammy’. I wondered why she would always correct me if I called her anything but Mother. Yes, it made sense. She disliked me because I was a bastard. The word lodged in my throat, uncomfortable and strange. It was a dark word, a term of abuse, and yet it thrilled me to be Claire’s bastard.

I vaguely wondered about this mysterious man who was my real father. But I wasn’t interested. He had abandoned me, but Claire had kept me close. I counted back the time. Gosh, she was only slightly older than me when she got pregnant. I was so proud that though she couldn’t keep me herself, she never abandoned me. All my thirteen years, Claire had watched over me. She listened to my tales of woe; she defended me against Mother’s scoldings and punishments. When she married James, she included me in everything, insisting I be her bridesmaid, even though mother said I was too young and would spoil the wedding photographs. But by then, Claire had done the unthinkable; she had got engaged to James Martin, rich and old. At least to me, he was old, but Claire seemed to like him. Even for Mother, Claire could do no wrong, not even having my ugly mug spoiling her wedding photographs.

This was the most unsettling news but also the most wonderful news.

I watched from the shed as Aunt Agnes waddled off down the drive to catch the bus into town. It was lunchtime, and I headed for the kitchen. Mother glanced at me out of the corner of her eye when I sat down to eat the lunch she had prepared. We both sat waiting. It was a war of nerves as we each waited for the other to break the silence. I was determined to hold fast.

‘You know, Meg, that eavesdroppers seldom hear anything good of themselves,’ she snapped finally.

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I nearly bottled it and pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I had enough of her and her lies. Courage swept away my fear.

‘What’s a bastard, Mother?’

She flushed. ‘Tell me what you heard. Out with it, Meg.’

I took a deep breath and stared boldly back at her. ‘Claire’s my mother, you're my granny.’ I could see that me calling her granny had no more appeal for her than calling her mammy.

‘You mustn’t listen at doors – you get the wrong end of things. Your aunt Agnes and I were talking about someone else.’

She said the words, but they sounded unconvincing. It made me bolder.

‘I know what I heard, but I can always go and ask Claire. She’ll tell me the truth.' It was satisfying to watch her face flush brightly.

‘Don’t you dare or …’

‘Or what, Granny?’

She reached across the table and grabbed my arm roughly. ‘You’re to say nothing, my girl!’

I pulled away from her and got to my feet, sending the chair flying. ‘I’ll do as I please, and the one thing I'm glad of is that I’m not your girl. I’m Claire’s girl, and I’m going to live with her. Don’t pretend you won’t be glad, you’ve never liked me!’

I ran out of the house, dizzy with newfound freedom. ‘Claire is my mammy’ rang like a bell in my head. Over and over, I recited it. Everything seemed brighter in the world. Finally, everything was clear, and I had a new freedom. I didn’t have to feel guilty for disliking Mother. She wasn’t my real mother. My real mother loved me. She was too young to mind me when I was a baby, but she kept me close, refusing to let me go.

It was only two in the afternoon. Claire would be at her house. Hopefully, James wouldn’t be around. I longed to talk to her, discover everything, and tell her how happy I was. Her home was miles away, and I was desperate to see her. I couldn’t wait until the five o'clock bus, which would have dropped me close to the house she shared with James. No, I would ride my bike to her home. If I left now, I could be there in an hour and a half, maybe two if the hills slowed me down. Nothing could stop me from seeing her. I heard Mother shouting for me. I ignored her and lifted my bike from under the sour apple tree. I wheeled it as quietly as possible around the front of the house, mounted it, and cycled as fast as I could down the drive.

Dimly, I could still hear her shouting.

All the long cycle, the heady refrain ‘Claire is my mammy’ played on a loop of pure joy.

I made good time, fired by the twin engines of adrenaline and happiness. And I was in luck; James’s Mercedes was gone, and Claire’s little MG was parked in the driveway. She saw me from the sitting room and hurried to meet me as I threw open the back door and burst into the kitchen. Her face lit up like always when she saw me, and my heart skipped excitedly.

‘Meg, what are you doing here? God, you're as red as a beetroot. Have you cycled all the way here? Your timing is great because I’ve only just got home.’

I was hot and out of breath and momentarily tongue-tied. So overwhelmed with happiness that I hadn’t thought about how I would tell her of my discoveries.

‘I know you're really my mother!’ I finally blurted.

Claire stared at me, her expression frozen in shock. She didn’t speak, she just stared at me. I rushed into her arms.

‘Oh Claire, I’m so glad! I always knew that Mother never liked me, and now I understand. We don’t have to have secrets anymore.’

Still, Claire said nothing, and I became afraid. Maybe I got everything wrong.

At last, she spoke, ‘Meg love, let’s sit down. We have so much to talk about. James will be back any minute, so come upstairs to my bedroom, and I can explain.’

She led me up the long stairway and opened the double doors into her huge bedroom. She then led me to a sofa thing she called a loveseat. We sat, and she held my hand. She was silent for so long that I became afraid again.

‘Claire, it’s true. You’re my mother, aren’t you?’ My voice wobbled as I asked. If she denied it, all my joy would disappear.

She stroked my cheek. ‘Yes, love, it’s true. I don’t know how you discovered it, but yes, it’s true.’

‘I overheard Aunt Agnes and Mo–’ The name froze on my tongue. ‘Are you glad I found out, Claire? I thought you’d be glad.’

‘Of course I’m glad. But I didn’t want you to find out this way. You do understand, don’t you, why I couldn’t claim you as my own?’

‘Tell me. Please. They were talking about me and how I was really your daughter. Aunt Agnes said I should be told the truth, but She wouldn’t tell me anything. She tried to pretend I had misheard and they were talking about someone else. But it is true, isn’t it, Claire?’ I stared at her, desperate for confirmation.

Claire sighed. ‘Yes, loveen, it’s true. It was so long ago, and I was barely fifteen. My parents were horrified. It was such a scandal. Things are getting better now, but in 1970, having a baby when you weren’t married was a big deal. The names they called girls who got in the family way were cruel. They wanted to send me away to the nuns and then to have you adopted. But I wouldn’t agree. Even before I met you, I loved you, Meg. You must believe that. There was such stigma, and my parents were proud people. But I refused to give way. Eventually, Mammy agreed to pretend to be pregnant and pass you off as her child. I was a slim girl, and I didn’t show until early summer, which was the holidays from school. I pretended that I was going to stay with my father’s family in England. Instead, I stayed in a home for unmarried mothers. Meanwhile, my mother pretended to be pregnant and arranged to have the baby in Dublin. She made up a story about it being a risky pregnancy, which at her age wasn’t surprising. It helped that Daddy was a doctor. No one knew the truth except my parents and Mammy’s sister Agnes.’

All the time she spoke, she continued to hold my hand. I was afraid to talk to interrupt the story of how I began. I was thrilled. It was like I was being rebirthed.

‘As soon as you were born, Meg, I knew I had made the right decision to keep you. I loved you instantly. But I couldn’t acknowledge you. That was the deal I struck with my mother. In the eyes of the world, she was your mother, but in my heart I claimed you. I looked after you like any mother when you were a baby. I fed you, and you slept in a basket by my bed. I got up with you at night and cared for you except when I was at school. My parents made me promise that I would get a good Leaving Cert and go on to college. I didn’t want to leave you, but I knew I needed an education to get a job and look after you eventually. When I was eighteen, I went to Dublin and trained to be a teacher. I pined for you, but it was all part of my plan to become independent and take you to live with me.’

‘Why didn’t you? Why leave me with...?’ I couldn’t call that woman ‘Mother’ anymore.

Claire looked uncomfortable. ‘I met James, and we fell in love. So I couldn’t take you to live with me.’

I was shocked. ‘Did he say no?’

‘I couldn’t tell him, love.’

‘But he’s mad about you. If you explained, he’d have let me live with you.’

‘It’s not that simple. James is twenty years older than I am, and he’s of a different generation. I was afraid of losing him. I kept waiting for the right time to tell him about you, but after we married I knew I left it too late. I was scared he might think I had tricked him into marriage. He might have understood if I had told him at once, but I was afraid of how he would react to my deceiving him. I’m so sorry. I tried to persuade him to let you live with us as my sister, but he couldn’t understand. You see, he wanted children of his own.’

‘But you can tell him now! Maybe he’ll be glad to have me as a stepdaughter – after all, you never did have children.’

Claire let go of my hand. ‘Oh love, that’s just it. James and I are going to have a child.’

I stared at her, confused. I wasn’t sure how to react, but I said, ‘Then I’ll have a little sister or brother, and we can be a proper family.’

‘No, love, I can’t do that to James. He’d be devastated that I’ve kept a secret from him. He’s very religious, and he’ll be horrified. Oh love, this can be our lovely secret. But you mustn’t tell anyone else.’

I stared at her, uncomprehending. ‘You want me to keep pretending you're my sister?’

‘Yes, love, just for the time being. James would be devastated, but he’s so happy now. I don’t want to spoil it for him.’

I jumped to my feet. ‘What about me? Don’t I matter?’

‘Of course you do. But I can spend even more time with you, and when the baby comes, you can be her very special auntie.’

I stared stupidly at her. She put her arms around me, but I pushed her away. ‘I’m not keeping your dirty secrets. I’m going to tell everyone. Then you’ll have to admit that I’m your daughter.’

Claire started to cry, but I didn’t care. I ran outside, got on my bike, and cycled away. The refrain that had filled me with joy now mocked me. ‘Claire is my mammy.’

Chapter 35

I didn’t go home and spent the night in a hayshed. My eyes were red and sore from crying, and I could hardly see through them. Eventually, exhausted, I slept. Claire and Mother found me early the next morning. Claire was white, and looked exhausted, and Mother was furious.

‘You stupid, selfish girl! Don’t you realise Claire could lose her baby because of all the fuss you’ve created?’

‘Good, I hope she does!’ I screeched.

The smack I received across the face knocked me sideways.

‘Stop it, leave her be!’ Claire begged. ‘Aw, love, please listen to me. I’m so sorry. This must be so very hard for you.’

She tried to pull me towards her, but I drew back and glared at her.

‘Meg, why don’t the two of us go off somewhere for a few days, and then we can really talk.’

‘You’re just afraid I’ll tell your precious James that you’re a tramp!’

Claire’s face blanched even more.

Mother interrupted. ‘Be careful, you ungrateful whelp, that I don’t teach you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry!’

‘You can’t keep me quiet, I’ll tell everyone!’ I said triumphantly.

Mother lunged at me again, but Claire pulled her away.

They spoke at the door of the shed, and then Mother gave me one last vicious look and left.

‘Meg, please, you have every right to tell whoever you want, but I just ask that you hear me out. There’s something else that I haven’t told you.’

‘Oh, what a surprise! Claire Martin is keeping secrets!’ I snarled.

‘I know you’re angry, but there’s another reason I want to keep it secret. But first, I want you to know that I’m proud you’re my daughter, and I always have been.’

‘Doesn’t look like it though. Does it?’

‘James is ill. He’s got cancer. That’s why I don’t want him to learn about our relationship. He’s so happy about the baby, and I don’t want to tell him how I deceived him. Please, Meg. The cancer is terminal. He’s only got a year or two if we’re lucky. I want to make him happy. He’s been so good to me. And to you, too. He paid for all our trips away and the new clothes I bought you.’

I stared. ‘Is that the truth? Is James really going to die?’ Claire flinched at my words, but I didn’t care. ‘I’m sorry about that, and I’ll keep our secret, but you have to promise me that after he dies, you'll tell everyone about me. Do you promise?’

Claire looked at me, her eyes shining with gratitude. She pulled me into her arms. I let my body relax, but I was still hurt that she put James before me.

‘Oh, love, thank you! But at least we can be together more often, and when the baby comes ...’

‘My sister!’ I snapped.

‘Yes, your little sister – or brother – but we must keep things quiet until …’

‘Until James is dead,’ I said baldly. I admit I was glad when I saw her wince. I was glad that I hurt her. After all, she hurt me. ‘Then, it occurred to me that there was so much more that I needed to know. Things that could make a huge difference to me.

‘Who’s my father?’ I asked and I held my breath as I waited for her to tell me.

‘’He was just some boy I knew when I stayed in Dublin. He was only a kid. I never told him about you. Mammy tried to trace him, but he disappeared.

‘What was his name?’

‘His name was Mateo. I called him Matt. He wasn’t from Ireland. He was a Spanish student here for the summer to learn English. To be honest, Meg, it was such a difficult time for me; I didn’t want to think about him anymore. I was more concerned with finding a way to keep you. It took a lot to figure out a way. Things are easier now, but back then, to have a baby out of marriage was considered a terrible thing. But I loved you, Meg, and between us, Mammy and I found a way. I had to grow up fast. But I was so delighted to have found a way to keep you close.’

‘But isn’t there any way I can find out about my dad?’ I loved the shape of the word in my mouth. The man I thought was my father died when I was little, and he was daft as a brush. I kept out of his way.

‘Please, love, you’re wasting your time wondering about him. I put him out of my head. I don’t even remember his surname; it was such a mouthful.’

Reluctantly, I went back home with Mother. She barely spoke to me for the rest of the day, which suited me. I’d be happy if we never spoke again. At least now I was free to hate her. Before, I tried so hard to make her care about me. I went around pathetically, trying to please her. The relief of knowing that I didn’t have to anymore was like being set free. I didn’t have to feel guilt for all my angry, hateful thoughts because she deserved every single one.

After a while, I got used to the new reality. Very little changed, at least on the surface. I continued to live with Mother, but the rules were no longer the same. I no longer felt the need to obey her or keep her rules. It suited me. I could see that she hated this change in our relationship. The control had shifted. If she complained about my behaviour or my refusal to do the jobs she gave me, then I just sighed and talked about having a little chat with James or Father Brown. That soon shut her up.

I saw Claire more often than before. I sensed James wasn’t too happy with how much time I spent with his wife. But I didn’t care. He wasn’t getting it all his way, cancer or no cancer. At times, I wondered if he was ill at all. He certainly didn’t spend too much time in bed. But he did have a lot of hospital appointments.

Claire had got very big. My new sister or brother was growing inside her, feeding off her like a fat tapeworm and trying to take her from me.

One day, when Claire was styling my hair for a local dance, she smiled at me in the mirror.

‘How would you like to be the new baby’s godmother?’

‘Oh, are you serious? I’d love that.’

Claire beamed delightedly at me, and for a while I stopped hating the intruder. I was willing to share Claire and excited for the day when I could call her mammy. Sometimes, when we were alone, I used that name, but Claire looked nervous when I did. I suppose she worried about James overhearing.

At the end of the summer, I was packed off to boarding school. I pretended I hated going, but it was a relief. Living with Mother felt like being on a battlefield where both sides were afraid to fire the first shots. At times, the tension was so bad that we stopped eating together. When I carried my meal on a tray to eat in front of the TV in the living room, she wrinkled her nose in disgust, but deep down, she was relieved to see me go. Food tasted better for both of us when we didn’t have to sit eye to eye.

The baby was born at the end of December. I was home for my Christmas holiday. I visited Claire in the hospital. She proudly showed me the little tapeworm. I have to admit, she was pretty — all pink, soft cuteness. I liked how tightly she grasped my fingers. She was strong, fierce like me.

Claire whispered in my ear. ‘How do you like your little godchild?’ I was hurt. Why didn’t she say little sister? Then I realised that making me godmother was just a sop to me, and I hardened my heart against the little worm.

‘What shall we call her?’ Claire asked.

‘Alice. I like the name. Let’s call her Alice, from Alice in Wonderland.’

‘That’s lovely, Meg. I didn’t know you read that book. I loved it when I was a child, too.’ She grinned at me delightedly. I went home happy. I felt that maybe things might just be alright, and I could eventually grow to love my little sister Alice.

The next day, Claire came home from the hospital, and I wasn’t allowed to see her. Mother spoke of Claire needing peace to establish breastfeeding. That sounded repulsive and brought back to mind my image of a bloated parasite. But after a week, I was allowed to see Claire and baby Alice again. I only had a few days left before I had to return to school, and I was determined to spend as much time as possible with them.

The house was transformed. It smelled of babies, a mixture of talc, and Sudocrem. Piles of nappies sat on chairs, and pretty little playsuits and tiny pink dresses were scattered on every surface. Mother sat on a chair, folding nappies and stared suspiciously at me as I entered the kitchen. James was sitting in an armchair holding little Alice. He looked happy but frail, and for a moment, I almost felt sorry for him. He wouldn’t get to enjoy his baby daughter for long. Then he smiled and beckoned me towards him.

‘Well, Auntie Meg, how do you like your new niece Eimear?’ he said in the silly fake jolly voice he always used when he spoke to me.

I stared at him, puzzled. ’Sorry, don’t you mean Alice? Claire said I could choose the name, and I picked Alice.’

James laughed. ‘Aww, my dear, I’m afraid I overruled you. I hate the name Alice, and besides, I want to call her after my mother – Eimear.’

Claire came into the room and saw my face. I stared at her accusingly.

‘You said she’d be called Alice—you promised!’

Claire squirmed. ‘Look, love, We can still use Alice as a second name.’

I glared at her and headed straight for the door.

Claire followed me, and I could hear James and Mother telling her to let me get over it. James shouted something about me being a spoiled brat. I kept on walking, a lump of disappointment overlaid with rage embedded in my throat.

Claire caught up with me in the garden. She caught me by my arm, but I shrugged her off.

‘Please, Meg, don’t be angry. Can’t you see how ill he is? His mother meant the world to him, and I had to let him have his way.’

‘But you promised me!’ I screamed at her. ‘What about me? Why does he always have to come first?’

‘Look, love, I promise when we’re together, you can call her Alice and later when …’ she faltered.

‘You mean when he’s dead, then I can call her Alice, and you’ll tell everyone you're my mother.’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said eagerly.

I desperately wanted to believe her.

Chapter 36

Every time I returned from boarding school, the Worm got bigger. I couldn’t bring myself to call her Eimear or Alice, so in my mind she reverted to the Worm. Despite myself, I have to admit she was pretty. At her christening, James and Claire organised a big party. I did my bit in the church. The Worm roared all through the ceremony. Back at the house, food was laid on, and pink balloons and a big banner stretched across the ceiling to welcome Baby Eimear. I wanted to be sick. Even the cake was pink.

James beamed from ear to ear, like he had the most perfect child in the world. I had the satisfaction of watching Mother and Claire exchange nervous glances. As well they should. I could blow up this happy occasion with one word. But I held my peace. You see, I still loved Claire, and I believed she would do right by me. Over that day, as I wandered through the rooms filled with well-wishers and looked at the piles of gaily-wrapped presents for the Worm, I wondered about the day I was christened. I bet there was no cake, no celebration. It was probably more like a funeral.

The christening buoyed James up for a while, but gradually he grew weaker. He had to spend more and more time in the hospital, and Claire was torn between minding the baby and being with him. Mother wasn’t fit to be much help; she had arthritis flare-ups and found it hard to manage the new baby. Whenever she did mind her, it turned my stomach to hear her drooling over her and talking silly baby talk. I knew she never would have bothered with me when I was a baby. No, I was a stain, a blot on perfect Claire’s perfect life. If she could have erased me, she would have.

On one of my rare weekends home from school, I offered to babysit so Claire could spend more time with James. I could see she was reluctant to let me mind her precious Worm, but she eventually agreed. Before leaving, she wrote me a list of instructions and insisted I ring Mother if I was worried about anything.

It was nice to be alone in Claire’s house. It was huge. There was an enormous kitchen, a scullery, a drawing room, a dining room, a library and James’s study, which he always kept locked. Upstairs, there were seven bedrooms. Claire’s room was massive, with a dressing room and a private bathroom. It was nice to have a proper snoop around. Our house wasn’t as big or fancy, and we were better off than most people around us. Mother thought herself and Claire a cut above the locals or yokels, as she referred to them when she was talking on the phone with her posh friends. But this house dwarfed ours. The furniture was old world, not reproductions like Mother had. No, this was all the real thing. All the chairs, tables and mirrors were probably there from the time of James’s parents and even further back. I imagined coming to live here after James was dead. Which room would be mine? At least I’d have first dibs, as the Worm wouldn’t be able to put in any preference for quite a while.

The Worm slept for an hour and then started to cry. I was watching a movie, so I turned the sound up, but it was useless. The noise penetrated, spoiling my enjoyment of the film, and I had to go upstairs to her. She stank. I knew what to do as I had changed her before under Claire’s supervision. I cleaned the disgusting mess away and put her down again. She didn’t sleep, so I got her a bottle and shoved it in her mouth to shut her up. But she spat it out and screamed even harder. Sighing, I picked her up. Still she roared. I paced the floor, jiggling her fiercely. I would miss my film if she didn’t shut up soon. I would miss all the exciting bits. In exasperation, I shook her and shouted at her to shut up.

That’s when Claire walked in. I didn’t hear her return with all the noise the Worm made. Claire glared at me and snatched the baby out of my arms.

I went downstairs and watched the rest of the movie. It was hard to follow what was happening as I had missed so much of the action.

‘Meg, we need to talk.’ Claire’s voice interrupted me.

Sighing, I glanced up at her. ‘What now?’ I demanded.

Instead of answering me, she turned off the television.

‘Hey!’ I protested. ‘I was watching that!’

‘Meg, I want you to realise how dangerous it is to shake a baby. I know you were frustrated with her crying, but there’s no excuse for what you did.’

I realised that I had upset her, and I was sorry. She loved the Worm, and I had better learn to accept it.

‘I thought you loved little Eimear …’

She paused, and I waited.

‘I know you love your baby sister, but I can’t trust you to mind her if you lose your temper with her.’

I mumbled apologies and promised to do better. ‘How’s James?’ I asked not because I cared but because I thought it best to please her.

She started crying. ‘Oh, Meg, he’s so poorly, the doctors want to move him to the hospice.’

I rushed to hug her and told her how sorry I was and that I would pray for James. But secretly, I was delighted. With James gone, the three of us could be a proper family, and I would be a great big sister to the baby. Everything would change. I could see that my response made Claire happy. She hugged me tightly. I felt excited as I thought of the wonderful times we would have as a proper family in this lovely house. I even decided which of the bedrooms I would choose – the room with the flowery blue wallpaper and the cast-iron bed. I just had to learn to be patient. Not long now!

Of course, James rallied and came home again. I tried to hide my disappointment because Claire was so happy. She explained that the doctors in Dublin decided to try one more treatment. It wasn’t a cure, but it would give him more time. I pretended to be pleased, but I ached with jealousy. When would it be my time? I was tired of waiting.

The Worm grew and, I admit, she was fun. As she got older, I could play with her, and surprisingly, she was always delighted to see me. Absence made her heart grow fond, and my rare visits caused her to clap her hands delightedly. I tried to make the best of things. Claire made a fuss of me when I visited, but it felt forced, and she rarely called to see me and the old woman.

Mother was getting stiffer and found it hard to manage the stairs. She hated having to ask me to link her arm as she struggled to bed.

Eimear was five by the time James finally died. He had survived for so long that I had almost given up hope. I was eighteen. He was a big man in the community, and the house was filled for two days with lines of people coming to pay their respects. The funeral was concelebrated with five priests and the Knights of Columbanus in attendance. James had been a proud member of the Knights and a devout Catholic. He was buried with all honours. Mother gripped Claire’s arm tightly and watched over her devotedly. She did her best to keep me away from Claire. But I bided my time. Mother was old – really old, and soon I’d be free of her too, and then it would be just me and Claire, my mammy, and, of course, the child. I didn’t mind sharing her with Eimear, not anymore. We could be proper sisters – she would always look up to her big sister, and I would watch out for her. But I was getting impatient for my new life to begin.

Mother kept giving me dirty looks and warning me not to upset Claire. But I knew things were hard for Claire; she missed James, and I wanted to give her time to get over him. I mean, she always knew he was going to die. It was hardly a surprise, but I was willing to be patient.

My time at boarding school was over. I wasn’t sad. The friends I made there were like me, a bit disconnected from their homes, and while at school we were close. But I never confided in them. I entered a world of games and academia in school and didn’t shine at either. My report cards described me as average. What an insulting word to describe a person or their abilities! But it was obvious that I wasn’t college material. Mother wanted me to apply for nursing, but I was suspicious that she wanted me to end up as her carer. Instead, I applied for work at the Cassidy Hotel. I started as a dog's body, doing a bit of everything, but I had my eye on the receptionist’s job. They seemed to like me in the hotel. It was nice to be appreciated.

I forced myself to be patient and waited a couple of weeks before discussing things with Claire. I wasn’t a monster, I gave her time to get over him.

The back door was locked and, after I banged on it, she let me in. When did she start locking the back door? Usually, it was on the latch, and I called in whenever I felt like it. Of course, she must be sick of visitors traipsing in and out to offer sympathy for James. So if she didn’t lock the door, she’d get no peace.

She looked very pale; her eyes had a wrung-out appearance as if all her tears had been sucked out of her. If she had been a bit friendlier, I might have said nothing. But the tired, cold look she gave me cut me to the quick. I thought she’d be delighted to see me.

‘Sorry, Meg. It’s not a great time. I haven’t been sleeping, and I planned to have a nap. Can you call tomorrow? I’ll be in better shape.’

I ignored what she said and instead walked past her into the kitchen.

‘Where’s Eimear?’ I asked.

‘She’s with the childminder. I needed some time to myself, and I didn’t have the energy to keep her entertained. Sandra’s little one loves to play with Eimear, so I thought she’d be better off there than with me.’

‘I’m glad Eimear isn’t here. It’ll give us a chance to talk, to plan.’

‘Meg, I’m really tired. Can’t we talk tomorrow about whatever plans you have? But I’m sure we can arrange a summer holiday if that’s what you mean.’

I stared at her. Could she really think I was talking about holidays?

‘Claire, I’m not talking about holidays. You must know why I’m here.’

Her face flushed, and she looked away. ‘Meg, please, not now, not today. It’s too soon.’

I could feel my rage build up. I had been so patient. Five years' worth of patience was bubbling like burning lava inside me. The wave building in my chest was like a scream. I gritted my teeth to hold it in.

‘I’m sorry you’re tired, Claire, but I’m tired too. You promised that after James died, you would tell everyone I was your daughter, and we would live together like a proper family.’

Claire walked past me and slumped on a kitchen chair. ‘Please, Meg, not this again. Not now. I’m not able to bear it.’

‘You’re not able to bear it!’ the sarcasm shot out of my mouth, whipping her to attention. ‘What about me? What about all I have to bear – the lies, the pretence, hiding who I am? And why? To protect your precious James. Well, I kept my part of the deal. Now, I want you to do your part.’

Claire backed away as though I had struck her when I mentioned bloody James. I stared her out. I wasn’t backing down this time.

‘Meg, please, give this up – you're a grown-up now. Why do we have to broadcast our private family business?’

I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. She got to her feet and touched my arm appealingly.

‘Look, Mammy will be upset if all this comes out now. She’s old –– don’t bring all this scandal on her now,’ she begged.

‘You want me to wait till that witch who made my childhood miserable dies before you finally acknowledge me as your child. Or will you make more excuses then?’

‘I just don’t want to cause upset.’

‘What about my upset and my feelings, don’t I count?’

Claire looked at me with eyes brimming with tears, and I realised she was never going to acknowledge me. She had just strung me along. She didn’t love me. I was her mistake. A mistake that she regretted making and, most of all, regretted keeping. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she could have gone back in time, she’d have given me away or got rid of me. Fury, disappointed rage coursed through me. I wanted to hit her and kick her skinny body to a pulp of bruised flesh. But I had a better revenge. I walked slowly to the back door and opened it.

Then, just before I left, I smiled at her, saying each word as I poured icy water on the coals of my hatred.

‘Well then, if you won’t, I will. I am fed up with keeping who I am as some dirty little secret. What is it the Bible says? The truth shall set you free. Well, I’m going to get busy spreading the word.’

Then I left.

I stole every penny I could find in the house. Mother squirrelled cash away everywhere. I must have found a couple of hundred. It was enough to give me time to think and not have to see any of their treacherous faces until I decided exactly what to do. I went to Dublin and did all the bad things my religion teacher, Miss Doyle, warned me against. It was three months of drink, drugs and sex. How I didn’t get pregnant, I don’t know. I stayed in a small hotel and visited the nicer hotels to pick up decent prospects. I found most of the men boring as fuck. But I did meet one or two people who would become very useful to me, although I didn’t realise it then.

Over the weeks I grew reckless, and I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. I obviously wasn’t worth anything, only whatever value I put on myself, which amounted to enough cash to buy cheap booze and get a little hit from the weed the stringy teenagers sold down dark alleyways. If I ran out of money, I found other ways to persuade them to give me what I needed.

One night, I got out of it with drink and weed, and the man I was with started to push me around, and I lashed out at him. He wasn’t used to being resisted. He set to teaching me what he helpfully called a lesson. The lesson might have killed me if it weren’t for Tommy. I don’t know what impulse he had to come to my rescue. Tommy isn’t a man who does acts of random kindness. But for whatever reason, he saved me that night. The man who beat me lost a lot of teeth and Tommy gave me one as a souvenir.

He took me to a small hotel and got a doctor to check me over. I expected to pay him back somehow but, oddly, he left me in peace to recover. When I was better, he offered me a job. He owned a lot of small businesses, including the hotel he had brought me to. He put me to work in the bar, and some nights he’d order brandy and buy me one, too, and we’d chat. Well, he did most of the talking. Eventually, he got curious about the little culchie he had rescued. He was easy to talk to because he didn’t care; he just liked stories, so I told him mine.

Eventually, I got bored and was ready to go home. Tommy told me to keep in touch and to let him know if I needed to earn extra cash. 'A fresh-faced wee country girl might be useful to me from time to time,' he said, staring at me with his cold assessing eyes. We parted on good terms, and I accepted his offer of future work. He gave me a wad of cash as a parting gift, but this time I knew the gift would come with strings. I was able to make myself useful to Tommy over the years and took several trips abroad on his behalf. I noted grimly that neither Claire nor Mother tried to find me. Perhaps they hoped they’d seen the back of me. Well, tough luck!

Mother was furious when I showed up unannounced. She demanded her money back. I just smiled at her and said, didn’t she realise there was a price on silence? That shut her up. As for Claire, my lovely mammy, she pretended to be glad to see me, but I knew she was scared of me, of what I would do. The only one truly glad to see me was Eimear. She squealed with delight and hugged me tightly as though she never wanted to let me go. It was a sweet revenge. I could see how it worried Claire. But I was nice to her. I acted like I was willing to accept the status quo. She was desperate to know where I had disappeared, but she knew she hadn’t the right to ask. After all, she wasn’t my mother, was she?

They were all afraid that I’d open my mouth. I realised that was my currency. As soon as I told people, they’d stop noticing me. But they'd sit up and take notice as long as I held the threat. Besides, I enjoyed holding it over Mother. I’d drop little hints when the priest or any of her snooty friends visited her. It was such fun. But deep inside, it hurt, and I desperately wanted to believe that, eventually, Claire would acknowledge me. That’s what a sucker I was. Even then, I still clung to the dream.

Chapter 37

At first, I had no real interest in finding out about my father. Claire had told me very little. I was so desperate for her to acknowledge me that an absent father barely seemed to matter. But over time, I became curious about who he was. If Claire wouldn’t recognise me as her daughter, the least she could do was tell me about my father. The man I used to call father died when I was five, and I never liked him. He smelled of cigarettes and sat drooling and reciting poetry, not proper poetry like in books; it was more like nursery rhymes. I now know that he had dementia, but then, he scared me, and I kept away from him. It was a relief to know that he wasn’t my real dad. But I became curious about my biological father, what he was like and why he left Claire to manage with me alone.

I challenged her one day after she had called to see Gran. That was one good thing about Eimear’s arrival. It was acceptable for us all to call the old witch Gran now. Claire looked tired, and her usual mobile face tensed when she saw me waiting for her.

I stopped her just as she was leaving the house. ‘I want to talk, Claire,’ I demanded.

‘Please, Meg, I’m bushed. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’ she pleaded weakly.

But I was adamant. ‘No, I want to ask you something.’

Wearily, she ran her fingers through her hair. I realised with surprise that it was sprinkled with streaks of grey. I always thought of her as young. She was still in her thirties but seemed to have aged after James died.

She pointed to her car, and I got into the passenger seat. It was cold, so she turned on the engine.

‘Let’s go for a drive. I’ve been indoors too much lately,’ she said.

I didn’t ask where we were going; I composed my thoughts. The silence in the car wasn’t pleasant. Claire was nervous, afraid I’d make more demands of her.

We drove to Lissadell, pulling in on the green overlooking the shore. The sea had the stillness of a lake, and the mountains and woods held it snugly in a calming embrace. For a short while, we sat in the car contemplating the view. It was soothing when I was so churned up inside.

‘I want to know about my father.’

‘I told you already, Meg, he was a foreign language student.’

‘You told me his name was Mateo, but there must be more. I mean didn’t you know where he lived? For God’s sake, you must have had somewhere to go. I wasn’t the bloody Immaculate Conception, was I?’

‘Why are you so fired up about this now? You never showed much interest in knowing before.’

‘Well, maybe he will want to know about me.’

‘Meg, I’ve told you it’s complicated.’

I snorted in derision. ‘I don’t care anymore. I want to know who my dad is. It’s the least you can do.’

Claire sighed deeply and held the silence for so long that I feared she would remain clammed up, but suddenly, she spoke in a rush, almost as though she had rehearsed it. I suppose she knew this day was coming—the day when I wanted to know everything.

‘Your father was a nice boy. We met when I was up in Dublin, staying with friends. We had a little romance. We were both very young. When I came home, I felt ill. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. It was months before I realised that I was pregnant.’

‘Didn’t you contact him, tell him about me?’

‘Meg, he was only a boy. He wasn’t from Ireland. He was a foreign language student. I had no way of contacting him; even if I did, he couldn’t do anything. He was only a few months older than me.’

‘But he’s not a teenager now. Can’t you find out where he stayed? The people who boarded him might have his address or the language school he attended.’

‘It was so long ago. It’s no good, Meg. I never saw where he stayed. We met at his friend's house, and I never knew the friend's name.’

‘Well, what was he like? Do I look like him? Where was he from?’

‘Mateo was Spanish, from Seville. He was a nice boy, very happy and kind.’

‘But didn’t you want to keep in touch? I thought you cared about each other?’

‘We did, but I lost his address. Mammy washed my jeans, and it was in the pocket.’

‘Why didn’t he write to you?’

‘I was supposed to write first, and then he’d reply, so when he never heard from me, he must have thought I didn’t want to keep up contact.’

I had many more questions, but Claire had little more to tell me.

‘Do I look like him? I know Spaniards are darker-skinned and brown-eyed. Why don’t I look more Spanish?’

‘I don’t know, Meg. I guess you take after me.’

‘Mateo, what? What was his surname?’

‘I really can’t remember Meg.’

‘You can’t remember the name of the boy who knocked you up?’

Claire flushed at the derision in my voice.

‘Did you shag so many boys that the names are blurred?’ I could see that I was hurting her, and I was glad. She deserved to feel discomfort and shame for how she had treated me. I forced myself to speak more calmly. ‘It was a foreign name. You must know. Please, Claire, I have a right to know.’

‘Meg, you’re angry and hurt, but you must understand. It was my first time with a boy, and I was so young. I knew nothing about contraception. I didn’t intend for it to happen. I thought he loved me. But even before we parted, I knew it was a mistake. He was going back to his family and his life in Spain. We were both so young, playing at being grown-ups. His name was Mateo Garcia, something – it was a double-barrelled name. I really can’t recall it. But apart from him coming from Seville, I know nothing about him. We were only together for a few weeks and spent so little time together. The Coyles, the family I stayed with, were cousins. They were hosting a Spanish student, a girl called Maria. It was through her that I met Mateo, and she only knew him because she attended the same language school. Please, Meg, don’t try to find him; it will only cause heartbreak for everyone concerned.’

‘That’s for me to decide!’ I snapped.

There wasn’t much to go on, but I was determined to find my real father. I didn’t know where to begin.

‘What about the Coyles? They might still be in contact with the Spanish girl, or they will at least know the name of the language school. The school might have kept records?’

I felt growing excitement at the thought of this Spanish father. He never got a chance to be part of my life. But maybe he’d be glad to know he has a daughter. My heart filled as I thought of all the Spanish relatives I might have. I felt exotic and special; those long-lost relatives beckoned like a bright star—a beacon for the loneliness of my life.

‘Meg, please don’t approach the Coyles. Let me try to find out. I’m still in touch with Stella, my cousin, and she might be able to help.’

I wasn’t sure how hard Claire would work to find out about my father, so I thought I’d give her an incentive.

‘Claire, if you do this, I promise I’ll keep quiet about you and Mother, but I better get results quickly.’

Claire nodded, started the engine, and drove me back home. She didn’t come in and left me to go back to her brat. Watching her drive away, I thought about my handsome Spanish father. There must be some way I could discover who he was. I felt excited at the thought.

Later that night, as I lay in bed, my excitement dampened. If Claire, my mother, refused to acknowledge me, why would a man who never even knew of my existence possibly care? But I nourished a thin flame of hope that someday we would find each other and someone in this world would be proud to call me their child. Then, I would have found a home.

Claire called to see me one wet November evening. She was dressed beautifully, effortlessly elegant. I looked like a small lump of dough in a sack beside her. But she seemed tense. She had lost weight, and her dress hung loosely from her body. Mother told her to eat more and get rest. She never bothered with my appearance except to disparage it.

Claire whispered to me to follow her into the hallway.

‘Meg, come into the drawing room. We can be private there.’

How fitting, the room of revelations it was turning out to be. But I was excited. Perhaps she had news about my father.

‘What have you found out? Did you contact your cousins?’ I could barely breathe with excitement.

‘Yes, I contacted Stella.’ Claire spoke slowly and kept her eyes on her hands, which were twisting the folds of her skirt.

‘Well, what did they say? Come on, Claire, don’t keep me in suspense.’

‘Meg, I’m sorry I don’t have much news. Stella told me the school was called The Begley Language School and was based on Grafton Street.’

‘Well, that’s a starting place, at least.’

‘No, I’m sorry, you see, the school closed fifteen years ago. It went bankrupt. I asked Stella if she was in touch with Maria, the language student who had stayed with her. She told me that they only kept in touch for a few months, and she hasn’t a clue where she is now.’

‘And my father, what about him?’

‘She has no idea what became of him. She said the people he stayed with returned to England, but she couldn’t remember their names. I’m so sorry, Meg. I know you wanted me to have better news.’

My eyes stung with the bitterness of my disappointment. ‘You’re lying. You don’t want me to find him. You’re afraid it’ll all get out that lovely Claire Curran was a bit of a slut.’

Claire flinched. ‘Meg, I know you feel I’m against you, but I’m not. If you don’t believe me you can talk to Stella yourself. Please believe me, I want to help you.’

I glared at her, but what could I do? There was no point in talking to this Stella person. She’d say whatever Claire told her to. Tears of disappointment stung my eyes. The door to my past remained firmly shut.

Chapter 38

Mother got ill when I was twenty-five. She had breathing difficulties and took to her bed for large parts of the day. A lifetime of smoking had caught up with her. I enjoyed watching her power ebb and her ability to wound become impaired. I relished her dependence on me. She hated being so helpless. She begged Claire to take her in, but Claire’s house was being renovated, and workmen were in and out. So it was impractical for her to stay with her beloved Claire.

I took leave from my job as a receptionist at the hotel. They were sympathetic and eager for me to return to work whenever I could. It was nice to be appreciated by someone. The manager was a bit sweet on me and suggested I go on hotel management courses, but I was content to keep my life simple.

Of course, now I had my responsibilities to Mother to occupy me. I got an allowance from the state for my work as Mother’s carer, and her state pension helped me save money for my future. It supplemented my infrequent but substantial earnings from Tommy.

Caring for Mother was a challenge for her more than for me. She could never be sure of me. Oh, I didn’t harm her; well, maybe I delayed giving her painkillers at times and ignored her when she needed help going to the bathroom. I enjoyed the daily little humiliations she suffered. They were some small balancing of the pain she inflicted on me as a child. But my hate for her paled beside what I reserved for Claire. She spent a lot of time with Mother, holding her hand and speaking words of comfort. Sometimes, she looked at me strangely, as though she didn’t recognise me. Neglect and denial have consequences – a lesson Claire was learning at last.

My relationship with Eimear had continued to flower. Despite my earlier indifference, the child seemed besotted with me. At first, it irritated me, but after a lifetime of being starved of affection, I was seduced. Seeing someone’s eyes light up whenever they saw me was nice. So, soon I became her wonderful Auntie Meg. The person who took her to the cinema, brought her nice clothes and always took her side. I knew that my relationship with Eimear worried Claire. She was suspicious of my motives, as well she might be. I was the worm in the apple of her life. The more distant Claire and I grew, the warmer my relationship with Eimear.

Life went on. Resentment fuelled me, but to all outward appearance I had accepted my role in the periphery of Claire’s life. Eimear and I becoming so close was the perfect way to punish Claire. She stole my birthright, and I was going to steal her child. So, I cultivated Eimear. I was her ally during her teenage years, siding with her against Claire on the teenage/parent battlefield. Claire was helpless to do anything. When Eimear gushingly said I was like a sister to her, not an aunt, how I laughed. But it became fun. Fakery became such a way of life that sometimes I almost forget my hatred. Almost.

Eimear had the life I should have had, and I resented her for it. I watched how she was treated like a little princess for her First Holy Communion. For her Confirmation, Claire insisted she take the name Alice – a blatant sop to me – but it was too little and too late. I watched the big celebration for her sixteenth birthday, the money spent on clothes, the holidays and most of all, the pride that shone from Claire’s eyes as she looked at her daughter. She had no such pride or joy in me, her firstborn. I was her dirty secret, her shame.

But it was hard to be angry with Eimear. Like me, she was innocent. The thirteen-year age gap between us lessened over time. I listened to her dating woes and advised her on clothes and make-up. I was her cool auntie. If there was anything that she wanted to wear that Claire objected to, I backed her up. But I was careful not to cause a breach. I wanted Claire to be wary of me but not so afraid as to keep me from Eimear.

Eimear had cause to be grateful to me. I helped her sort out a bullying problem at school. When she turned sixteen, I offered to take her on holiday to Spain as a birthday treat. She had done well in her Junior Cert, and I wanted to show her how proud we were of her. Claire hated the idea but could do nothing. I was her loving godmother, after all. She tried to persuade Eimear not to go, and when that didn’t work, she pathetically suggested that we all go together. I turned to her, my eyes wide and hurt and said, ‘Don’t you trust me, Claire?’ So, she could do nothing, and I was a hero in Eimear’s eyes.

The holiday was a great success. It served a dual purpose: a treat for Eimear and allowed me to do a little business on Tommy’s behalf. He had a lot of associates living close to our resort. But to Eimear, I was the cool aunt who allowed her freedom to go and enjoy the nightlife and allowed her to have her first taste of alcohol. I helped her deal with her first hangover and her first holiday romance. Unlike boring Mam, she thought I was so amazing to give her all the freedom she wanted. I confess, as she teetered out in her fake tan, revealing teenage clothes and high heels, I did hope for the worst, but the child was annoyingly compliant with curfews and never let boys get too familiar. Annoyingly, she was in bed before midnight most nights. But, for her, it was the most amazing adventure and, in the end, we solemnly promised that what happened on tour would stay on tour. Maddeningly, nothing did happen.

The time away from her precious Eimear must have seemed endless for Claire. It pleased me that she pined for her over the long week we were away. When we arrived home, it was to hear that Mother had taken a turn for the worse. I was prepared to get back into nursing duties, but Claire and Eimear stuck to her bed like limpets, and I barely got the woman to myself. But when she was close to the end and well-drugged up, I told her what I planned to do to her. To this day, I treasure the look on her face.

Claire was a bit difficult about my decision to cremate the old bitch, but I had the advantage. After all, how could she refuse my request to arrange a cremation when she had refused me so much over the years? Cremations were unusual in rural Ireland back then. The only other person we knew who was cremated was an elderly man who died in England, and the family cremated his body and brought the ashes home. I insisted to all and sundry that it was our dear mother’s dying wish as she had a horror of being buried. So, after a funeral mass, the remains of Agnes Curran were brought to Dublin for cremation. Claire was upset and convinced that her mother would have preferred a conventional burial, but what could she do?

I relished every moment, from collecting her ashes to triumphantly flushing them down the toilet. ‘Rest in shit,’ I said as I watched her go. It was the most satisfying moment of my life. I had carried through my promise to the bitch I was forced to call Mother. And now she rested in the sewer where she belonged. The ashes I gave Claire were from the kitchen fire. The local priest arranged to have them interred in the family plot. I could barely contain my laughter.

With my so-called mother dead, I wondered what excuse Claire would make to avoid telling the world or at least the local community that I was her daughter. When I challenged her, she muttered mealy-mouthed words about not wanting to upset her precious Eimear. Isn’t it enough that we both know our relationship with each other, darling? That was when I knew for certain that Claire was ashamed of me. It pleased me to know she was a little afraid of me, too.

The years crept by, and I had a life to live. I enjoyed my job in the hotel. It helped me to understand the world a little better. I was a watcher. I saw how people interacted with each other. I learned how to please people, to get them to like me. I began to realise that was my superpower. I was the best friend, the supporting actor. My job was to make the stars shine. It helped that I was what one might call pleasant-looking, unremarkable. I didn’t threaten the women, and the men thought I should be delighted by any attention from them. So, in work, I developed a friendship group, and I amused myself by seeing how I could manipulate them for my pleasure. I played games where I turned friends against each other, broke up relationships and staged grand reconciliations. It amazed me how unobservant people were. Unaware that the catalyst for a break-up was also the loving friend who occasionally reunited the parted lovers.

Eimear went off to college and trained as a solicitor. Claire was delighted and proud. I think she was glad Eimear was away from my influence, too. She made regular forays to Dublin to take her to shows. I bided my time. I knew Eimear was a home bird. But with her gone, I thought Claire and I could spend more time together and return to our former closeness. I suppose, even after everything, I still wanted my mother back, the one I lost as a baby. It was pathetic! But it shows how hard it is for hope to become fully extinguished. Claire invented reasons to avoid my company, except when others were around. Aware that she was afraid of me, I wasn’t entirely displeased. If I couldn’t have her love, I at least had her attention.

Eimear returned to Sligo and got a job with Holland and Byrne. It wasn’t the most exciting job. I doubted whether Eimear would stick it for long. But then she fell for Donal Carty. I knew he was trouble. He had a reputation for being a bully – a subtle bully mind. He played with girls' affections and routinely cheated on them. But to my surprise, he seemed genuinely keen on Eimear. I wondered if it was the money. Her father left Eimear money, and Claire’s will would make her a comparatively wealthy girl. Although, the money may have made her a more attractive prospect, I could see that he was crazy about her. Eimear was quite a catch; she didn’t have Claire’s height and grace but was very pretty, full of life and good humour.

Claire was suspicious of him from the very beginning. She had heard the same rumours as I did. Claire made the mistake of letting her dislike of Donal show. They argued about him. I knew I would have to be subtle, so I neither encouraged nor discouraged the relationship overtly. But I did persuade Eimear to talk about him.

Like a typical bully, Donal did his best to isolate Eimear, turn her off friends, and demand her complete attention. He rained gifts on her and showered her with compliments. It was manna for a sheltered girl like Eimear. He was her first big love. I was interested to find out how things would work out. I had my ideas but decided not to interfere. There would be time enough for that later. In the meantime, I wanted her to tell her Auntie Meg everything.

I was visiting Eimear when I overheard Claire on the phone talking to her solicitors about making a will. She was approaching her fiftieth birthday, so maybe it made her think about her morality. Gibney, her solicitor, offered to come to the house so she could tell him what her wishes were, and then he’d draft it up properly, and she could come to the office to sign it. I bet he didn’t make too many house calls, but then Claire was a valued client, and I think the old goat fancied her.

They were in Claire’s study. I listened just as I did all those years ago. As I stood watching through a crack in the door, I hoped against hope that, in her will, she would finally acknowledge me. She listed small bequests to friends and items of jewellery she wished to leave as keepsakes. They listed the charities she wanted to remember in her will. Then she got to the main part. The last drops of hope were squeezed from my heart as she said: ‘To my only daughter, Eimear, I leave my jewellery (except those pieces mentioned as bequests to friends), my savings, stocks and shares and my share in my mother Doloros (Della) Curran’s house, and this house, with all its land and outbuildings.’

My heart was pounding. I waited to hear her mention my name. Finally, she did: ‘To my sister, Meg Curran, I leave the sum of twenty thousand in the hope that she will spend it on travel.’

I left the house without her realising I was there.

Chapter 39

It’s not that I ever really believed Claire would do the right thing. Over the years, I have given her every opportunity. No one can say that I wasn’t patient. But now I had enough. To her dying day, she was never going to acknowledge me, and there were fewer and fewer people who could prove my case. Mother was dead, and Agnes, her sister, whom I had overheard revealing my secret, was in her dotage and barely knew what day it was, never mind my parentage. There were no other witnesses to the fraud perpetuated against me. So Claire felt safe. Safe enough to leave as her final legacy, a document owning me not as her daughter but as her sister. It was too much to bear.

I said nothing. What was the point? The time for words was over. My pain festered, an open sore that would never heal. But everyone’s life went on. Eimear and Donal got engaged despite Claire’s misgivings. I watched as Eimear, besotted by Donal’s looks and charm, surrendered herself to him. She let him choose her clothes and pick the music she listened to. He was an artist. I had to admire how he made her believe every word that came out of his mouth. He was the playbook for control. Gradually, he insinuated his way into all aspects of her life. He took away her confidence, subtly undermined her friendships, made her suspicious of friends she had known since childhood and encouraged her to drift away from them and socialise with his friends. ‘He used his jealousy as proof of his love and devotion. Poor Eimear was constantly tying herself up in knots, trying to please him,’ I said. I told her that after they married, he would finally feel secure. He needs to know you are fully committed to him. I felt a little guilty for saying that, but I was angry with Claire.

I watched from the sidelines. I discovered his affair by accident. One evening, I was leaving work late. I came in on my day off to cover for a colleague who was sick. I saw him in the car park, locking lips with some young one in his car. He didn’t see me, but I made it my business to keep tabs on him. I knew his type – now that he had Eimear locked down, he was getting bored. He wanted fresh meat to keep him stimulated. I debated what to do. Of course, I couldn’t let her marry him. She needed to find him out, but I wasn’t in any hurry to tell her what he was up to. I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. But Donal was a dope; he was getting sloppy, and he sent her flowers for Valentine's Day and put the wrong name on the card. I could see Eimear was getting suspicious, but he reassured her. It’s amazing the lies one is willing to believe when one is desperate to avoid the truth. I should know.

She was forced to open her eyes the day she spotted him and his little friend. Once she saw it, it was like the light had poured in, and she realised what a narrow escape she had. Donal first tried to deny he had an affair, then blamed her for what had happened. He even tried to guilt her into apologising for his infidelity. I could barely keep a straight face when he explained that she had made him feel insecure and unloved, and that was why his head was turned. I have to award him marks for having a brass neck. But Eimear finally developed a backbone.

I could see how this made her irresistible to him. Like a child denied the best toy, he was prepared to use any means to attain it. Eimear was even more appealing now that she was unattainable. He started a campaign to win her back. He sent her gifts and letters and inundated her with pleading text messages. He hung around outside her office at lunchtime, desperate to speak to her. He couldn’t handle her rejection. His fragile pride couldn’t take it. But Eimear stood firm. She was on the brink of taking legal action against him. I took him to one side and convinced him to back off and give her time. Alec thought he was the hero who made him cool his jets, but I knew how to handle the Donals of the world. I had plans for Donal, but the time wasn’t ripe yet.

Claire was beside herself with worry. I supported her, and she was grateful I had her back and, by extension, Eimear’s. We spent many nights strategising how to help Eimear overcome all this pain. We became closer. The shadow of our shared secret didn’t impinge, and we even settled into an easy companionship. Claire believed our mutual love of Eimear had healed our rift. I took on the task of cancelling all the arrangements for the wedding. It wasn’t difficult; not much had been planned, but they were grateful to me. But everything was about to change. Neither of us had any foreboding.

We went to the pub that night, all three of us. Eimear was still reeling from the shock of Donal’s betrayal and burning with humiliation. Initially, she was reluctant to go out with us, but we convinced her that the longer she stayed away from her local, the harder it would be. We both checked that Donal was away for the weekend and wouldn’t be in the pub. We had such a lovely time, and I think of it now as Claire’s wake. Claire and I sat with our friends, and although Claire was sorry for Eimear, she was relieved, too. Her girl was safe. So we watched Eimear crying into her drink about what a bastard Donal was. Her few remaining girlfriends were holding her hand and sympathising with her. They told her what a jerk he was and what a lucky escape she had. Her idiot friend Alec was there to pat her back and offer undying support. The fool had it bad for her, and she couldn’t see it. It never fails to surprise me how people can never see the obvious. Donal’s sister Jen entered the pub, and as soon as she saw Eimear, she turned on her heel. Eimear darted off to the loo to enjoy a good cry about losing a fiancé and her best friend. Claire wanted to go to her, but I persuaded her to leave it to Eimear’s friends to comfort her.

But despite her worry about Eimear, Claire looked happy and carefree. With Donal out of the picture, I suppose she felt her precious daughter was safe. As I sat in the pub surrounded by Claire’s friends and Claire’s daughter, I continued to torture myself. Why was she so resistant to acknowledging me as her child? I mean, it was 2010, and no one gave a damn anymore. Eimear would probably be delighted to know that I was her sister. It made no sense.

As for the story she told me about my Spanish father, I was beginning to have doubts. When she first told me, I was thrilled and kept asking her more and more questions about him. But over time, there were changes in her answers. First, she told me he was from Seville; later she said Barcelona, and her description of how he looked changed with retelling. The only thing she consistently got right was the name, Mateo. I began to wonder if there was more to my origin story. Maybe my father was a local man, or perhaps someone married. There had to be more to it. It was convenient that the only means of tracing him were shut down. I was beginning to think it was all a pack of lies.

At eleven o'clock, I told her I wanted to go home. Claire hadn’t been drinking, but she was reluctant to go. I think she was enjoying the company of her friends, and although she felt sorry for Eimear, she was hopeful that her girl would be happy again. We called out our goodbyes. When she fretted about Eimear getting home, the gallant Alec offered to drive her. Claire was glad to have her daughter in the safe hands of a garda. I bet he’d have liked to get those same hands on her precious Eimear, but of course, he was too much of a gentleman.

On the drive back to my house, Claire kept up a barrage of chat about everyone she met in the pub. I interrupted her harshly.

‘I know the terms of your will!’ Even in the car's darkness, I could see her flush. ‘You really shouldn’t have private conversations when I’m around, Claire. Don’t you know I have a history as an eavesdropper?’

‘Meg, please. This has to end. I know you want me to tell everyone who you are, but I’m sorry, I can’t.’

‘Can’t or won’t, Claire? Over the years, you gave me different reasons why you couldn’t tell anyone. It would hurt James, Mother, and even Eimear. But now, James and Mother are dead. Eimear is grown up and already looks on me as a sister. No one cares anymore about illegitimacy. There’s nothing but sympathy for the women who got pregnant in the seventies. Why are you keeping this secret?’

‘Meg, please, It’s better this way. I promise you.’

‘It makes no sense, and there’s no one around to care. The only reason that you're doing this is because you hate me.’

‘That’s not true. Meg, I could have given you up for adoption, but I wanted you despite –’

‘Despite what? I don’t believe that Spanish lad was my father. Was my father a local man, someone married with children? Please, Claire, at least give me the means of finding out who he is?’

She stared stubbornly ahead at the road.

‘Right, if you don’t tell me, then I’ll do a DNA test. There are loads of sites online that can help you find out about your heritage. If you don’t help me, I’ll find out for myself. All I have to do is spit, and they’ll give me the answers or help me get to them.’

‘Please, Meg, you mustn’t. Please, I beg of you, let it go.’

‘That’s so easy for you to say. You don’t know what it's like for me—living a lie, not knowing who I am. You have to tell me!’

Instead of answering, Claire started crying. I wasn’t having any of it. I grabbed her arm, causing the car to slide across the road.

‘Stop it!’ Claire screamed.

‘Not until you tell me.’

We were both screaming now. And then, she told me.

That was when I grabbed at the steering wheel. In slow motion, I watched as the ditch seemed to come at us. The air was filled with screams, groaning metal and shattered glass. I must have lost consciousness for a few minutes. When I came to, Claire was clutching the steering wheel, and blood was pouring from her head. She was dead. Mammy was dead, and finally, I knew the truth.

PART 3

Chapter 40

Rubbing her sore cheek, Eimear stared up at Meg. Shaking her head, she struggled to understand. Meg smiled down at her. But this was a Meg she had never seen before. Her face was hard. She flinched when Meg stroked her cheek.

‘I don’t understand,’ Eimear whispered through parched lips. ‘What’s happening to me?’

‘You’re dying, pet.’ Meg smiled kindly at Eimear. ‘You really haven’t a clue, have you?’

‘Please, Meg, what’s going on? What did you do to me?’

‘My dear, I’ve done nothing, and when the gardaí come here, they’ll understand exactly what happened. By the way, it may be a while. Did you like my performance earlier?’ She mimicked a panic-stricken voice. ‘Please, please, operator, we need help. We need an ambulance and the guards.’ Meg grinned at her. ‘Poor dear, I have to break it to you. No one is coming. Well, at least not until I’ve finished all my preparations. So we have just enough time to talk. After you slip off, I’ll tidy up and leave, only to return with reinforcements when I cannot enter your house. I love the barricade. You have done half my work for me. But save the talking. I have so much to tell you, and I think you have a right to know.’

Meg touched her finger to Eimear’s lips as she attempted to speak.

‘We don’t have too much time, and you’re becoming sleepy. Soon, it will be too late. So you need to pay attention. I’m sure you have lots of questions for me. But I can see that your poor little brain is a bit cloudy, so how about I ask the questions for you? I suppose the first question you’d like answered is, who is behind everything that’s happened to you? It’s such a long story. I don’t have time to give you all the details. I suppose you’ll have to make do with the highlights. You know, I was quite a broken person, not that you ever noticed, being young and cossetted. Your mother broke my heart, and it never mended. I put plaster over the cracks, but the pain kept seeping through. I might have given up and ended my pathetic little life if it weren’t for Tommy. I met him in Dublin when I was in a very dark place – thanks again to your mother and her broken promises. I went what is politely called off the rails. Not that Claire cared. She was glad to see the back of me. But then I met Tommy. You know Tommy, don’t you – Tommy Brennan?’

Eimear whispered, ‘Tommy Brennan?’

‘Yes, pet, Tommy Brennan. I sent him to you. He once came to my rescue – a regular knight in shining armour. He was good to me when no one else, least of all Claire, cared about me. And he accepted me. I wasn’t a looker like you or Claire, but I think I amused him, and like me, he had his story, and he could see how badly I was treated. He made me realise that you had to play the hand you were dealt and make anyone who hurt you pay. His credo was – hit hard and hit often. When I was concocting my little plan, he told me about the connection between Donal and Toby. Tommy has so many contacts in so many places, and Toby likes to walk on the wild side, so let's just say Toby owed him a favour. It worked so nicely that he could persuade Toby to turn everyone against you. Toby even contacted Donal and offered to make things hot for you in the office. I suppose the poor sap hoped you’d come running home to him when you got the sack. He was such a hopeless romantic, the idiot. But he wasn’t a nice boyfriend to you, was he?’

Eimear moved her head slowly from side to side, trying to shake off the awful lethargy that was starting to overwhelm her. She stared helplessly as Meg talked on. It was hard to take in the words. Meg took her by the shoulders and shook her hard.

‘Keep alert, girl! Where was I? Ah yes, how did I turn the office against you? It was child's play. When you were out at your relentless gym workouts, I found your laptop and sent off a few choice emails to make you look unhinged. I was always careful to delete them so you wouldn’t see them on your email stream. You really should have changed your password; most careless of you.’

Meg’s light-hearted tones jarred with the words she was speaking.

‘Dear Tommy was a great help to me. It was thanks to him and his contacts that I was able to send you all my lovely postcards and organise the nasty surprises you experienced recently. He introduced me to one of his associates — Brendan, your late-night caller who did a little hairdressing job on you.’

Eimear opened and closed her mouth. She couldn’t formulate the words, but she moaned and struggled to get up.

‘I was very impressed by how stoic you were about not telling nice Auntie Meg that you were in such trouble. I was quite proud of you for that. I expected to have to come rushing to the rescue a lot sooner.’

Meg grinned at her in delight, like a child talking about how clever they were being. She’s mad, quite mad, Eimear thought. It was a struggle to understand what was happening, her brain didn’t seem to be working properly. She felt tired, oh so tired. Another stinging slap brought her back to alertness.

‘Come now, Eimear. You don’t want to die without knowing everything, do you? So keep awake, or I’ll have to hurt you. I mean, I was always very fond of you – even against my will at times. You were such an endearing little one – you quite stole my heart away.’

Even through the fog of drugs, Eimear felt stomach-clenching fear. She tried to speak, but Meg shushed her.

‘Where was I? Yes, I hired an associate of Tommy’s to vandalise your car – sorry about that – I know how much you liked your motor, but no lasting harm done, eh?’ Meg stroked her cheek tenderly. ‘Then, when the time was right, I found another little operator to use his graffiti skills on your door. The poor lad really did believe it was you who hired him. I hacked up an old wig, styled it like yours, and borrowed your nice blue coat when you were out.’

Eimear moaned and tried to get to her feet. Meg smiled and pushed her back on the armchair.

‘I know you’re secretly impressed or would be if you weren’t about to die. You see, I never left the country. I rented a room just above yours and made a copy of your keys when I stayed with you. So I could come and go whenever I liked. It was all such fun. I was frustrated with how slow the Dublin cops were to figure things out and contact Alec. Poor Alec, he was so shocked when Donal showed him your mother’s cross. I came by it quite by accident when I was poking about in your dressing table in your flat. I always liked it, and I thought you’d give it to me. But I think Donal appreciated it even more. Oh Eimear, Eimear! You have a knack for making people believe in you, thus making their disillusionment with you even more painful. But once you were marked down as vindictive, no one wanted anything to do with you. It was fun dressing up and spinning yarns to the other tenants about you. Once or twice, you almost caught me, but my luck always held. You see, Eimear, it was like it was meant to be.’

Another scalding slap shook Eimear out of her daze.

‘Come on, girl, no sleeping. You’ll have all the time in the world for that shortly.’

Again, Eimear struggled to pull herself up, but it was hopeless. Her body was disconnected from her brain.

‘Now your next question might well be, why, dear Auntie Meg, are you doing these terrible things to poor little me? Would you like to know? But you really need to keep alert. It would be disappointing if you missed the key motivation for all my actions. You know how you love to read all those mystery novels, but you will never have read one so engrossing.’

Eimear stared glassily up at Meg. Then she felt a sharp sting in her arm. ‘Aaaah!’ she shrieked.

‘Don’t worry, I just want to give you a little dart to keep you alert. I found a needle in Claire’s sewing basket. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, you probably recall that Mother and I never got on. But no matter how mean she was to me, I didn’t mind because Claire was so good. No big sister could have been nicer. She took me everywhere, even let me be part of the wedding of the century to rich James Martin.’

Eimear watched through half-closed eyes as Meg paced back and forth. She looked feverish with excitement.

‘Everything became clear for me when I overheard that bitch I called Mother having a chat with her sister. What a surprise I got when I heard what they were saying. When I challenged her, she admitted that I was the bastard child of her daughter. To save Claire from the shame and stigma of being an unmarried mother, she, with the help of her husband, pretended I was a late baby. Unbelievably, it worked. Now I could finally understand why she disliked me and constantly threw at me what a perfect child Claire was. She saw me as Claire’s one mistake. A mistake that hadn’t been dumped off to be adopted or aborted – a mistake that was in full view, an unexploded bomb.’

Meg leaned over Eimear and laughed.

‘You can imagine my delight when I discovered that Claire was my real mother. Everything made sense. No wonder I never felt any love from the woman I called Mother. She sometimes looked at me with such loathing, and I could never understand why. Now I understood. I realise now that she hated me so much because I reminded her of my father.’ Meg made a sound, part laugh and part sob. ‘But I was so happy then because I loved Claire. Although we no longer lived together, she always showed me love and encouragement. I saw all the ways she had demonstrated her love to me in the presents she showered on me and the trips she took me on. I was desperate to see her. I needed to be certain it was the truth. It seemed too wonderful to be true. I went to see her in the big house she shared with your father. Luckily, he was out. I asked her if it was true. She was shocked, but she admitted it. She refused to talk about my real father, at least not then. She told me a fairy story about a sweet Spanish boy and a teenage romance. I was willing to forgive her for the deception, forcing me to live with Mother. I foolishly assumed she would acknowledge me and let me live with her. Boy, was I wrong!’

Meg glared at Eimear. ‘Wake up!’ she said, delivering another scorching smack across Eimear’s face. ‘You need to hear this. My wonderful mammy, the perfect Claire, said it wouldn’t be fair to James to acknowledge me. He was ill, dying, and she didn’t want to upset him. No one cared about my being upset. Then she told me she was pregnant with you. She thought I’d be delighted.’ Meg laughed, a raucous sound. ‘She went on and on about how she loved me. I was her precious child, but it must be our secret. I screamed at her. I left her and went back to that bitch I had to call mother. I didn’t speak to any of them for three days. Claire tried to bribe me into forgiving her, but she wasn’t willing to do the one thing I wanted.’

Meg paced the floor, her face white with anger.

‘But I was smart. I would never forgive them, but they didn’t have to know that. That’s when I started hating you. You were the golden girl, and Claire doted on you. She loved you far more than me. Oh, she tried to appease me with nice holidays and trips abroad. But I knew she’d rather be with you. You had the life that should have been mine.’

Meg’s voice was loud with anger, and she walked back to Eimear and shook her hard to jolt her back from the unconsciousness that was overwhelming her. ‘Instead, I was a spectator at the feast. And I had to pretend to be happy about it. But I was torn. I really did want to be part of your lives, but not as a pretend sister to Claire and a pretend aunt to you. I wanted my rightful place. I wanted to be seen. I was more than just a mistake. Claire kept stringing me along, giving me false hope. It wasn’t until I heard her discussing the terms of her will that I really knew it was all lies. In her final act, she denied me. ‘She left it all to you, her only daughter. That’s what she put in her will,’

Meg’s voice rose higher and higher, and as Eimear watched in fascinated horror, she leaned in closer and poked her viciously. ‘She left you everything, even her share in my home. That was when I finally accepted my place – as her mistake. You were the only one who mattered to her. Then, all the hate I kept back came rushing at me. I was filled with darkness and pain. The only thing to kill the pain was to destroy you all.’

She lifted Eimear’s eyelids. ‘It’ll be over soon. I mixed your antidepressant with a few of dear old gran’s Valium, quite a few.’

Again, Meg laughed, but Eimear was slipping away. She was dimly aware of Meg’s voice washing over her, the violence of her words no longer having the power to hurt.

‘Right, Eimear, I’m afraid I’m losing my audience, so I’ll hurry my story. It isn’t fair that you die without understanding the perfection of my plan. I did hope we’d have more time together, but ah, well. Poor Donal was a goof. He really was besotted with you. I sent him taunting texts from your phone to get him riled up. He showed them to Alec to convince him what a bitch you were. Then, to mess with his head, this evening, I sent him a final text message from you, begging him to come here and expressing remorse for all the harm you caused him. You even told him you would leave the back door unlatched so he could drop by any time. I deleted the message so you wouldn’t see it,’

Meg laughed delightedly. ‘Oh, Eimear, I really wasn’t sure he’d even show up. But it couldn’t have worked out any better. After you went for your snooze, I unlocked the backdoor and, like a fly entering a web, he walked into the trap. But when the guards see his phone, they’ll know what a fucked-up homicidal girl you are,’

Eimear barely heard. She was slipping further and further into an enveloping warm darkness. She flinched as the needle stabbed her arm and opened her eyes, blinking slowly.

‘Poor Donal, whom you lured here and attacked him with a golf stick. Finally, overcome with remorse, you took your own life. I plan to call on your cleaning lady, and with her help, we’ll discover you tomorrow morning. Too late, of course, to save you.’

Everything was fuzzy; the horror of Meg’s words and actions seemed to be happening to someone else. Blessedly, she drifted off to a place free of all this horror. Another stinging slap pulled her back.

‘One more thing I must share with you. Claire told me who my real daddy was.’

Again, Eimear heard the raucous sound of Meg’s laughter.

‘You’ll never guess. No wonder Claire and dear gran wanted to keep it a secret.’

Meg pulled up Eimear’s eyelid and poked her eyeball. The pain shook her back to painful consciousness, and she was forced to listen.

‘Wakey wakey! I don’t want you to miss the final exciting instalment. I really do wish we had more time.’

Eimear once again felt the sharp pain of the needle in her thigh and moaned.

‘On our little car journey, Claire finally admitted that my daddy was her daddy. I didn’t take that well, I assure you! With fatal results!’

Again, that awful laughter seemed to bounce around Eimear’s skull.

‘Claire never went to a mother and baby home. She was kept in the house while dear Mother paraded herself around the place with a cushion stuffed up her skirt. It must have mortified her to go to Mass and meet her beloved Father Brown while living a lie. Claire gave birth to me, her little bastard, and guess who delivered me into the world – it was dear old Dad. Is that a first, a doctor delivering his daughter and granddaughter simultaneously? Isn’t that hilarious? The old bastard lived for a few years after I was born. No one else knew the whole truth. They’re all dead and rotting in hell now.’

Meg released her and patted her cheek gently. ‘OK, now you know it all, you can rest.’

Eimear began to slip down a long tunnel into blackness. She was glad to give up the struggle. This nightmare reversed everything she knew and believed to be true. Meg, whom she loved, was this monstrous, hateful creature. It couldn’t be true, and yet it was true.

A loud banging interspersed with shouts briefly shook Eimear back to consciousness. She was dimly aware of Meg cursing and her shoulders being shaken violently.

‘Who knows that you’re here?’ Meg snarled, her nails digging brutally into Eimear’s wrists.

Eimear couldn’t speak; her lips were numb, and her tongue was too big for her mouth.

‘Shit!’ Meg hurriedly picked up the glass and held it to Eimear’s lips. She poured the liquid down Eimear’s throat, holding her nose to force her to drink. She spluttered and choked over the partially dissolved tablets and whiskey mixture.

In some part of her brain, Eimear knew there was an opportunity for survival. Meg’s panic energised her. She closed her lips tightly even as Meg tried to force them apart. But Meg’s fingers held her nose and blocked her airway, and she knew that she would have to submit to the urgent need to open her mouth and breathe, even though it would mean death. When she gave up and the poisonous liquid poured down her throat, her faint grip on consciousness deserted her, and she fell into blissful darkness accompanied by the sound of breaking glass.

Chapter 41

Everything hurt; her throat and stomach were screaming out with pain. She fell in and out of consciousness. When she opened her eyes, Anna was holding her hand.

‘Hello, love, you’ve been through the wars. How are you feeling?’

Through parched lips, Eimear whispered, ‘Like someone has taken a scourer to my throat,’ She tried to say more, but it hurt too much.

Then she remembered.

‘Donal, is he…?’

‘Yes, he’s dead. According to Alec, it was instantaneous.’

Eimear forced herself to sit up, even though everything hurt. Her stomach muscles ached with violence she had never experienced, even after the most brutal workout. Anna helped her up and placed an extra pillow behind her shoulders.

‘Don’t try to talk yet. Wait until I get you some ice cubes. The nurse said having your stomach pumped feels like hell. We don’t have to talk if you aren’t able. I can let you rest and come back later.’

‘No, please, don’t go. Just give me a bit of time. Everything is still fuzzy.’ Her voice rasped past her lacerated throat.

‘What day is it?’

‘It’s Sunday morning. You got here in the early hours of Saturday, more dead than alive. You scared the life out of me, girl. They worked on you pretty fast, and you’ve been out of it ever since. Christ, you are one lucky girl. You might never have made it if we hadn’t got you here so quickly.’

‘I owe my life to you, Anna.’

‘We got lucky – if my friend hadn’t followed Donal and called me …’

They both remained silent. Words seemed inadequate for the enormity of what had happened. Then Eimear whispered through dry lips.

‘Do they think I killed Donal?’

‘I think at first nobody knew what to believe. Donal was covered in blood, and to tell the truth, I feared you had lost the plot entirely and run amok. I called the guards and your friend Alec came. I think when he saw you, he assumed that you had killed Donal and were now attempting to kill yourself.’

Eimear started to shudder. No, she couldn’t bear this, to have everyone believe she was to blame. Her chest felt tight, and her body bathed in sweat. Was she having a heart attack?

‘It’s OK, Eimear, no one thinks you killed Donal. Alec very reluctantly gave me the lowdown. He wouldn’t say very much, as it’s an ongoing investigation, but he insisted you weren’t under suspicion. The person in his sights is Meg. He said there were forensic indicators that made it unlikely you attacked Donal. And there was evidence of you being forced to take all those tablets.’

‘I was. It was Meg. She was behind everything. It’s all messed up and confused, but she hit Donal, and then she tried to kill me. She drugged my drink.’ Hot tears slid down Eimear’s cheeks, and she shuddered. ‘Meg hates me. She acted like I was her enemy. How did I not see it? But she was always so loving. How was I so blind?’’

Anna reached for her hand and squeezed reassuringly. ‘You’re safe now, love. The guards are questioning her. I saw her hightailing it out the backdoor just after we broke in. She’ll have a lot of questions to answer, not least why there was a sewing needle stuck in your leg.’

‘God, I remember her trying to keep me awake so I could hear more of the sick things she was telling me. Then, when I thought it was all over, I could hear banging sounds, and she started to panic and forced more whiskey down my throat.’

‘Well, that was the cavalry to the rescue. I’m just sorry we waited so long. Meg, in her panic, spilt whiskey all over you as she tried to make you swallow. Also, there were signs of bruising on your face, but what exonerated you was Meg’s behaviour. She said she was trying to save you. When she heard us breaking into the house, she claimed to have panicked and decided to run for help. But she looked as guilty as hell.’

Eimear stared at Anna. ‘Please slow down, my head isn’t working properly yet.’

‘Sorry. I told the guards that the last time I saw Meg she was still in London and not due to fly into Ireland until Saturday evening. When my statement was read to her, she claimed that I was lying and that you had confided that you were afraid of me.’

Eimear took a deep breath. ‘I suppose I was suspicious of you. I worried about seeing you outside my flat, and I know it’s mad, but I even wondered if you secretly resented me for what happened to you at school.’

‘Well, considering all the things happening to you, it’s hardly surprising that you were wary of everyone who came into contact with you.’

‘Except Meg,’ said Eimear.

They both lapsed into silence.

Then Eimear said, ‘How did you get to the house? My god, Anna, you saved my life.’

Anna grinned. ‘That was a bit of detective work on my part. I was worried about you and unhappy with you returning to your house alone. So, I changed my work schedule and came down to Sligo. My mother still lives in town. I asked a friend of mine to keep an eye on you. I didn’t want you to see me spying on you. He found that too boring, so he took to following Donal instead. When he saw him heading to your home, he called me. I was out late-night shopping, with my mother. I sent her home, and met him at the house.’

Eimear was listening, wide-eyed.

‘My mate, George – I’ll introduce you properly when you’re feeling better – he told me he saw Donal enter the house and didn’t know what to do. Everything was quiet and then we saw a light in the kitchen. I crept around to the porch and looked in the window.’ Anna took a deep breath. ‘I could make out a figure lying across the staircase. I rang the gardaí, but I was terrified of what was happening. I couldn’t tell who was lying on the stairs and was frantic that it might be you. That’s when we started banging on doors and then broke a window and climbed in. You don’t know how lucky you are to be alive. I battered the face off of you to try and keep you conscious. At the hospital, they pumped your stomach. That’s why you're so sore. We could tell them what was in your system from the bottles scattered on the kitchen counter. We sent them off in the ambulance with you.’

Eimear put a hand to her throat as she swallowed painfully. Anna quickly poured some water from the jug on the bedside table, helped Eimear take a few sips, then replaced the glass.

‘Where was I? Oh, yeah, while trying to keep you conscious, I heard someone stumbling about in the garden at the back of your house. The back door was wide open, so Meg must have skedaddled out just as George and I got inside. Of course I didn’t know then it was Meg. That’s when the cops and ambulance arrived. I told your friend Alec that someone had just left the house and was making their escape through the garden,’ Anna grinned at her. ‘It was like something out of a movie. I swear someone may even have blown a whistle, and then the kitchen was filled with beefy guards who poured out of the door into the garden. They eventually located Meg limping across a field a good distance from the house – she’d been taking a shortcut, running for help, when she twisted her ankle badly – or so she said. When they brought her back to the house, she started spinning a story of how she had been trying to save you and then panicked and ran for help. It was all so confusing that it was hard to know who or what to believe. But the fact that she was legging it out the back instead of helping you made me very suspicious, that and the small fact that her clothes were covered in blood! And there was something sketchy about her behaviour – like she was playing a part. I knew the bitch was lying, but I couldn’t prove it.’

Eimear shuddered, ‘This is all so surreal, It’s like something out of a horror film. But that’s what the last few months have felt like for me – a waking nightmare.’

‘You know what? At one point, I thought they were going to let Meg travel in the same ambulance as you to get her ankle checked out. But Alec wasn’t having any of it. He took her straight to the station with him.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘Sitting in a cell, I hope. According to Alec, she’s awaiting her solicitor. By the way, he wants to talk to you. He’ll need a statement about what happened. I gave him a good telling-off for not believing you. In the end, I felt sorry for the poor man.’

‘Anna, I can’t believe this of Meg. I loved her. She came top of the list of all the people I trusted.’

‘Well, you don’t expect your auntie to have homicidal tendencies towards you, do you?’

‘Anna, that’s just it. It’s coming back to me now. Meg isn’t my aunt – she’s my sister, my half-sister. At least that’s what she told me. Could it be true?’

Then, the hot tears rolled down Eimear’s face, followed by hacking sobs. A nurse rushed into the room, scolded Anna for upsetting her patient, and insisted she leave.

Throwing up her hands to admit defeat, Anna agreed to go.

‘Look, Eimear, you need to sleep and process everything that’s happened to you,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell Alec to wait until tomorrow to talk to you. You try to rest in the meantime.’

Eimear slept, occasionally waking because her throat hurt, but eventually she fell into a deep, mercifully dreamless sleep.

Chapter 42

The morning light edged under Eimear’s eyelids, and she opened them reluctantly. The world of sleep felt safe, and she was wary of leaving it. It still felt like an upside-down world. Did she dream of Anna’s visit? Could she trust her memories? A friendly woman arrived with a tray containing tea, toast and a pot of strawberry yoghurt. She sipped the tea, but it was too hot, so she left it to cool. She shuddered at the toast, knowing that her still-tender throat would be lacerated by it. She opened the yoghurt pot eagerly, suddenly ravenously hungry. When did she last eat? She searched her mind. She vaguely remembered eating something for dinner back at the house but couldn’t drag what it was from the depths of her brain, however hard she tried. She kept on trying; anything was preferable to remembering what happened afterwards. Whenever her mind lit on a memory from that night, her guts twisted in agony, and so she worked determinedly on recalling what she had eaten for her last meal. It assumed ridiculous importance. But she needed to postpone the lancing of her memories that she would soon have to endure.

After her breakfast, she lay dozing. She opened her eyes, vaguely aware of a presence. It was Alec.

‘Hi, Eimear. Sorry to disturb you, but I wonder if you're up to talking about everything that’s happened.’

She stared at him in silence, taking in her old friend. His broad shoulders were encased in the uniform of a Garda Sergeant, and his plain, wholesome face stared down at her.

She struggled to sit up, and a nurse entered to place extra pillows at her back.

‘Now, mind that you don’t overstay your welcome and tire the poor girl out. She’s been through a lot.’

Alec nodded his agreement. After the nurse left, he looked at her awkwardly.

Eimear smiled weakly at him.

‘Hi, Judas,’ she said.

Alec blanched, ‘Eimear, I don’t know what to say.’

‘I’m not going to lie, Alec, I was gutted when you turned against me. It felt like there was no way out when even you stopped believing in me.’

Alec's face looked intense. ‘I need to say I’m sorry. I should have believed you, but I didn’t. There’s no changing that.’

‘Yes, you should have, but then again, I know that you were manipulated too, and there was so much pointing to my being unhinged and obsessed with Donal.’

Alec shook his head. ‘I feel so bad, Eimear. I wasn’t a good friend. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.’

‘Come on, Alec, let it go. We were all fooled one way or another. So how about we get the legalities over with, and then we can work on everything else?’

Alec nodded. ‘OK, I’ve taken a statement from your aunt, and now I need to hear from you?’

Eimear pointed to the glass of water on the tray at the bottom of her bed.

‘Push that tray up to me, Alec. It’s a long story, and I’ll need a few sips of water to keep me going.’

Eimear began. She told Alec everything that had happened to her in Dublin. Alec flushed when she mentioned how he had turned against her. Then, she related the events of the night of Donal’s death. She started crying as she described Meg bringing the golf stick down repeatedly on Donal’s head. She drank some water and continued to explain how Meg had fooled her into thinking she had called for help and instead drugged her.

‘Alec, she told me she was my half-sister. She was so full of hate. It was like someone had taken over her body, and she wasn’t my Meg anymore but a creature full of rage. I don’t even know if what she told me is the truth.’

‘It must have been horrific,’ he said.

‘What happened after I passed out?’

‘Well, as you know, Meg was apprehended in a field some distance from the house, with a supposed twisted ankle. The ankle was fine, as it turned out – which didn’t lend credibility to her claims that she was running for help. When we brought her down to the station, she told us that you had been talking in a very disturbed way for quite a while. The last conversation she had with you alarmed her, and she decided to see if you were alright. When she arrived at the house, she claimed that the front door was wide open, and when she entered, she saw Donal’s body covered in blood on the stairs. She checked to see if he was alive. When she realised he was dead, she approached the kitchen, where she heard loud sobs. She discovered you crushing tablets and putting them into a glass there. She tried to stop you, but you were hysterical and kept screaming that Donal got what was coming to him.’

‘Oh God, this is unbelievable!’

‘She said you were beyond reasoning and, after struggling to take the glass from you, she became concerned for her own safety and ran out the back door. She said she never heard the sirens because she was too upset and wanted to get away from you to call for help.’

Her heart pounding furiously for one awful moment, she wondered if Alec could still believe Meg’s lies.

‘You do believe I didn’t kill Donal, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do. Maybe, if Meg had more time, she could have rigged the crime scene to frame you, but she ran out of time. For a start, she couldn’t have got in through the front door as she claimed because it was barricaded. Then we discovered the pill bottles were covered in her prints. Her story that she was trying to wrestle it from your hands was belied by the absence of any of your prints on the bottles or the mortar and pestle used to crush the tablets.’ Alec pulled his chair closer to the bed. ‘She got you to put your hands on the golf stick, but they're all wrong for someone using it to strike. More importantly, the blood spatter on her clothes showed she was the person who struck him. When we examined your clothes, the blood splatter showed that you were in front of him and possibly lying down. Again, she didn’t have time to change her clothes. They were covered in Donal’s blood. Eventually, we got her to admit she killed Donal, and she claimed she was protecting you – saving your life.’

‘That’s true, he was attacking me. If she hadn’t arrived when she did, I’m convinced he’d have really hurt me; he looked beyond reason,’ she said, shuddering.

‘We’ve checked his phone, and there are several messages from you taunting him and disparaging his sexual prowess. For a man like Donal, they enraged him. He showed me some of them when I went to see him about harassing you. It made him seem like the victim, not you. I’m sorry, Eimear. I thought you were disturbed, especially after I heard from the guards in Dublin.’

‘So that’s why he attacked me. He thought I was messing with his head.’

‘Donal was a disturbed man. We accept now that he was stalking you, and I think that he was manipulated by Meg pretending to be you in such a way as to enrage him.’

‘Why are you sure I didn’t send him the messages?’

‘We couldn’t be certain, but when we checked your whereabouts when the messages were sent, we have you on CCTV in Quinn’s pharmacy arguing with Donal’s mother. It’s tight, but it seemed unlikely that straight after a blazing row, you would be texting him to come round for a visit. But it was possible, and it did muddy the waters for you.’

‘I forgot my phone that day. God, it all seems so long ago,’ she said, closing her eyes for a moment. Then, with a quiver in her voice, she asked, ‘So, do you think I sent those messages?’

Alec smiled at her reassuringly. ‘When Meg realised the evidence was mounting against her, she began talking. I don’t say she cracked; I just think she was dying to tell someone how clever she was. Unbelievably, she kept giving out about you not listening to her when she was describing everything she had done.’

‘So, am I in the clear, Alec? I can’t bear to always be under suspicion.’

‘We have a few things to clear up. But there was no stopping Meg from telling us how clever she was. She told us that she never went on her trip. Instead, she rented a flat in your building, and she was able to enter and leave your flat when you went out. That was how she got into your emails and sent texts on your phone. She boasted about how she deleted everything and left no trace.’

‘And the postcards were sent courtesy of Tommy Brennan and Co.’

‘Yes, she wrote all the cards and Tommy got his associates to post them. He keeps his business under the radar, but it’s likely he has contacts all over Europe, both for his legal dealings and the dodgy one too.’

Eimear shook her head. ‘She always seemed so genuinely fond of me, Alec. Was it all a pretence?’

‘I think she was conflicted. When I interviewed her, she asked after you like she cared, and then she acted as though you were her enemy. It was hard for me to separate the nice Meg Curran that I had known all my life from this murderous woman.’ Alec hesitated. ‘Look, all this can wait, Eimear.’

‘No, Alec, please tell me as much as you can, or I’ll never sleep.’

‘So she never cared about me at all.’

‘In her warped way, she did, but I think she was intensely jealous. She believed her whole life was a pretence and that you were the golden child. You always came first with Claire. I know your mother had her reasons, but I think jealousy and the pain of rejection sent Meg over the edge of sanity. In interrogation, she kept comparing her life with yours, and she was full of resentment.’

After Alec left, hot tears scalded her cheeks. She gave in to them until she was drained dry, and then she told herself she was done crying.

Chapter 43

The trial was short. Meg was charged with manslaughter, attempted murder, harassment and incitement to violence. Meg’s solicitor had persuaded her to enter a guilty plea to all the charges. The mitigating factors of her early guilty plea and traumatic and dysfunctional family background explained her motivation but did not excuse her actions. Various psychiatric experts gave evidence as to her mental state. But the fact remained that she had hit Donal not once but twice, that she had orchestrated a terror campaign against Eimear and attempted to murder her. This took planning and deliberation. It couldn’t be explained away by mental instability alone. So, with the mitigation of an early guilty plea and the support of a very expensive barrister, she was sentenced to 15 years.

Eimear wondered who paid the brief. Was it Tommy Brennan? She noticed that his name was never mentioned in the court. Alec said that she retracted everything she had said about him in her original statement and refused to implicate him in what happened. Perhaps that was the price of an expensive lawyer, or maybe she was afraid of crossing him.

Eimear kept away from the court. As Meg had pleaded guilty, she didn’t have to give evidence. But she did supply the court with a victim impact statement, as did the Carty family. She hid out in Anna’s flat until the worst of the publicity was over. The papers had their frenzy, and there was no shortage of locals to give their impressions and recollections of Meg to keep journalists well supplied with copy. But Eimear was protected by an army of friends and neighbours who showed where their loyalties lay. For the kindness she was shown, she was grateful. Not everyone was kind. Donal’s mother gave vent to her pain and anger, and Eimear decided to give her a pass. The poor woman was driven demented by her grief.

One day, she met Jen in the street. She stopped, but Jen strode past her as if she didn’t see her. That meeting made her realise that she needed to move away; there were too many painful memories, not just for her but for the Carty family, too.

Philip Jolly had been in touch and offered her, her job back whenever she was well enough to return. Iris, Kate, and even Hannah had sent her messages of support. When the role Toby played in her ordeal came out, he was encouraged to find employment elsewhere. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to Dublin. It sounded fanciful, but she felt she needed to heal her soul. So perhaps taking time out and going travelling might be what she needed. Anna had offered to join her whenever she wanted company.

When the dust had settled, and the worst of the gossip had died down, she returned to her mother’s house. She still felt the lingering remnants of fear whenever she had to open a door. Her therapist said it would take time, but eventually it would ease, and she would feel safe again.

Anna asked her if she planned to visit Meg in prison. She suggested that it might bring closure. But Eimear knew seeing Meg would just be opening the door to a nightmare she needed to put behind her. Seeing Meg was never going to be part of her healing. Besides, she knew that was what Meg wanted, and there was no way she was ever going to let her inside her head again.

Shortly after her return home, Alec called. They sat in the garden. It was just as Mam would have appreciated: everything in full bloom, heady with fragrance and a dazzling blaze of colour.

‘I’m surprised to see you back here, Eimear. I thought this place would be full of dark memories for you.’

‘It had bad memories but plenty of good ones, too. Mam and Dad were happy here, and I had a wonderful childhood. It’s just that I have to separate all the memories connected with Meg. But I think I’ll put it on the market later in the year.’ Eimear sighed and stared back at the house. ‘Alec, what happened to her was wrong. My mother and Gran wronged her. They lied to her about who she was, and then when she found out the truth, they insisted she continue the lie. For a teenage girl, that must have been a terrible rejection.’

‘You almost sound sorry for her after all she did to you.’

‘I can see the injustice of how she was treated and feel for her suffering, but I don’t forgive her. I’m not sure if I ever can. But my mother and grandmother sowed the seeds of all this when they treated her like they did. Secrets, unless exposed to the light, are corrosive. The secrets buried inside Meg were like a tick consuming her.’

‘According to things she said in interrogation, your grandmother did her best to make Meg feel she was worthless, and that was even before she learned the truth.’

‘Alec, I’ve been torturing myself about this, but I think she was responsible for what happened to Mam. She told me something awful. I was so far gone that I’m not even sure if she really said it. It’s so horrific. Please, Alec, it mustn’t go any further – but I think Meg said that in the car just before the crash Mam confessed that her father, my grandfather, was responsible for her pregnancy. And that she, Meg, had caused the crash.’

‘I don’t know, Eimear, and best not to torture yourself thinking about it. She can’t harm you now.’

‘But, Alec, she’ll get out someday, won’t she?’

Alec shrugged. ‘Best not to think about that,’ he said.

THE END

Also by Florence Gillan

Let Them Lie

The Forfeit

PUBLISHED BY POOLBEG

About the author

Florence Gillan is a retired teacher who divides her time between her native Sligo and her home in Newry, County Down. She lives with her husband Eugene, and two dogs. Her passion for reading as a child led her to write and tell stories from an early age. She has written two previous novels, Let Them Lie and The Forfeit. 

Acknowledgements

I can’t believe I’ve written my third book. The last few years have been a crazy adventure. None of it would be possible without Paula Campbell from Poolbeg. I will always be appreciative of her.

My patient editor, Gaye Shortland, has once again guided me through the complexities of editing with patience and encouragement and, for that, I am truly grateful.

Thank you to David Prendergast and the team at Poolbeg for their hard work on this book.

Once again, I’d like to express my heartfelt gratitude to my first readers: Maureen Gillan, Madeleine Skoronski, Fiona O Murchú, Rachel Hanna, David Hanna, Mark Hanna, Sarah Hanna and Eugene Hanna. Your patience and support have been invaluable. Each of you has played a unique role in this journey, and I couldn’t have done it without you.

Thank you to my lovely extended family, which includes brothers, sisters, in-laws, nieces, nephews, cousins, and my witty godmother Annie Walker, who have shared in my adventure and been encouraging and supportive of me.

Thank you to my fantastic friends, who have been there for all the special times in my life, not least this continuing adventure.

Special thanks go to Madeleine Skoronski and Fiona O’Murchú. They were among my first readers, reading and rereading the text for me. They were always available to calm and steady me.

My four children were, as usual, incredibly helpful. They took time out of their busy lives to offer suggestions and improvements. They are, as always, at the heart of everything.

Finally, Eugene, none of this would have been possible without you. Thank you!

Contents

Prologue

PART 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

PART 2

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

PART 3

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

About the author

Acknowledgements