Death of Riley (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #2)

“Seamus is dead?” I gasped.

“Not yet, but he will be if he's not allowed his rest.” She stood there, meaty hands on her big hips. “Did the children not tell you then? The tunnel caved in and the poor man was buried alive. He was lucky—they saw his hand sticking out of the muck and they got to him in time. Any longer and it would have been too late. As it is the doctors don't know. He's got a nasty concussion and they say his lungs are full of dirt. If he doesn't get pneumonia it will be a miracle. He's in the hands of the Blessed Virgin now.”

“Oh, no. That's terrible. Why is he home here and not in the hospital?”

She was still looking at me with that offensive sneer. “Hospitals cost money, so unless you've got yourself a fancy man on the side and you're offering to pay, it's home here the poor man will be staying. The doctor says there's nothing they can do for him anyway. Either he gets better or he doesn't. But it's no concern of yours. He's our responsibility. That's why I've come over to look after him myself. I've left Finbar to take care of my boys and I'll stay here until poor Seamus is on the mend.”

“Oh, but you really don't have to,” I exclaimed, trying to disguise my look of horror. “I'm sure between myself and Mrs. O'Hallaran we can take care of him.”

“What else are families for?” she said. “We take care of our own.”

“But your boys will be needing you. And what about your job at the fish market?”

“Family troubles come first,” she said. “Always have. And it's slack season at the market. So I'll be moving in for a while, until the poor man recovers, God and all his saints willing.”

“It's very good of you,” I said with a sinking heart.

She gave me a condescending smile. “He'll be needing someone with experience to nurse him. But he must have absolute quiet, the doctor says, so the little ones will have to stay in there with you.”

“Yes, of course.” I could hardly say no without seeming completely hard-hearted.

“They'll be wanting their tea.” Nuala turned to go back into Seamus's room.

So it seemed I was to be mother to two small children again. Not that I objected. In fact, now I saw them as a blessing in disguise. I would be too busy to have time to sit around and mope. That night I made up beds for them on the floor in my room, but in the middle of the night Bridie crawled into bed beside me, just as she used to do on the ship. “I don't want my daddy to die,” she whispered.

“Of course he won't die, sweetheart,” I said, stroking back her soft hair. “He'll be as right as rain before you know it.”

“Aunt Nuala says he might die.”

“Your Aunt Nuala says a lot of stupid things,” I said. “We'll say a little prayer for him together and put him in the Blessed Mother's hands, all right?”

We were in the middle of our prayer when Shamus crawled into bed with us. “I want to pray for my daddy too,” he said.

I fell asleep with an arm around each of them. In the morning I gave them bread and jam and tea and left for work with strict instructions that they weren't to make noise, they weren't to touch anything and they weren't to try cooking on my gas ring. Actually I was more concerned about Nuala. I didn't doubt for a moment that she'd be going through my possessions, if she hadn't done so already. Fine. Let her. It wasn't as if I had anything of any value, except for some letters Daniel had written me—I would have to burn them as soon as I got a chance.

As soon as I reached Riley's place I explained that I might need to be spending more time at home because someone had to care for the children. I had expected that he'd see this as an opportunity to point out another reason why women were no use to him in business, but he merely nodded distractedly. “Go on then. Clear off.”

I stood there, staring at him. He hadn't looked up from a notebook on his desk in which he was doodling a lot of angry black spikes.

“Hold on a minute. This doesn't mean you're firing me, does it?” I asked. “I mean, I've done a good job for you here. This place looks clean as a whistle and I've run your errands … and I didn't mean I wasn't coming to work at all. Just that I'd like to check in on the little ones from time to time.”

“Yes, I suppose you haven't done too badly, considering,” he said grudgingly, “but I've got some serious work to do. I don't need someone hanging around me, polishing and scrubbing around my feet. Things have taken a very unexpected turn.”