Murphy's Law (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #1)

"Well bring her in and shut the bleedin' door! Yer lettin the cold air in."

The door opened more than a crack to reveal flickering candle light and a room that seemed to be full of moving shadows. A middle-sized girl, skinny and filthy, snatched the baby from my arms. "Thank you," she said, and closed the door.

I followed Seamus and the children up the dark stairwell, stunned. One more flight, then another. On this landing--it must have been the third floor by now--there was a big stone sink, full and spilling over onto the floor. I picked up my skirts and hurried past. One last flight and there we were. By the time I reached the landing the door was already open, but most of the light from it was blocked by an enormous form, almost filling the door frame.

"Where are they? Where are those precious little ones?" a voice boomed out.

"Children, this is Auntie Nuala," Seamus said. "Give your auntie a kiss."

Bridie was swept up, protesting, into a very large bosom.

"Well, don't just stand there," the voice boomed again. "Come along inside with you. I've made a good warming stew. No doubt you'll be starving after what you've been through and ...," her voice broke off. Seamus and the children had gone into the room. I hesitated in the doorway. The large woman's gaze had fastened on me.

"Holy Mother of God!" she exclaimed. "Where is Kathleen and who, in God's name, is this?"

Eleven

My later impressions of Nuala O'Connor were no great improvement on the first one. Seamus had taken Nuala aside and filled her in on the situation, while she eyed me critically all the time he was talking. "But she could be anybody," I heard her say. "She could have murdered Kathleen in her bed, thrown her over the side of the ship. Who knows?"

"Hush. Don't let the children hear you." Seamus covered his mouth with his hand and gave us a sideways glance. "They seem very fond of her. And young Seamus himself told me how his mother came to the docks with them and how he wanted to wave to her."

"But she's not thinking of staying here?" If she thought her voice didn't carry, she was misjudging the volume of her whisper. And even though I heard every word, those suspicious looks were expressive enough.

"I asked her to, at least until the children were used to me," Seamus said.

"And where's she going to sleep, I'd like to know." I was longing to tell her what she could do with her apartment and her beds, too, but I didn't want to walk out and leave the two little ones tonight. That would be one shock too many for them. Besides, I reminded myself, I had nowhere else to go. So I bit my tongue and stood there, pretending I hadn't heard. I had time to take in my surroundings and I wasn't too thrilled with what I saw. Our chickens at home had a better-kept place to roost than this. There was one old armchair losing its stuffing, a rickety table, and the rest of the furniture looked as if it was made from old boxes and packing cases. Pots and pans were stacked on a shelf along with bread, sugar, and other supplies. There had been rose-patterned wallpaper on the wall but it had peeled away in great strips, revealing holes in the lath and plaster beneath it. The whole thing was lit with one anemic oil lamp. I tried not to shudder.

"Well, it's catch as catch can around here," Nuala said, in a louder voice, now seeing my dismayed look. "You have to take us as you find us."

"Don't worry, Nuala. I'll be looking for my own place now that the children are here," Seamus said. "It won't be for long that you're packed in like sardines."

"When Mother comes, eh, Daddy? We'll get a place of our own then?" Young Seamus said, giving the room the same critical appraisal as I had.

"When your mother comes, that's right." Seamus found it hard to get the words out.

"You should tell them," Nuala said. "When the time is right. Not now." I stepped between her and the two children.

The large woman came across the room to face me. "And what might your name be, miss?"

I held out my hand and forced a smile. "It's Molly Murphy, from Ballykillin, near Westport."

"Seaumus has no doubt told you, I'm Nuala O'Connor. I'm married to that useless body of a cousin of his. Finbar! Wake up! We've got company."

A figure roused itself from the darkness in the far corner and staggered to its feet. Finbar was in direct contrast to his wife--Jack Sprat and his wife from the nursery rhyme books. He was small and thin and bony, with a drooping mustache that seemed too big for his face and a worried look. Mind you, I'd have been worried at the thought of coming home to that dragon every day. He embraced Seamus, patted the children, and then looked at me enquiringly.

"This is Miss Murphy, who kindly escorted the children over on the boat," Seamus said before Nuala could say anything. "Kathleen was unavoidably detained."