The van stopped in front of Alanna’s flat. Barry had offered to get her a hotel so she didn’t have to face the empty rooms, but she had to do it sooner or later.
All the members of Ceol had flats in this building. The van driver helped pile their suitcases on the sidewalk. Alanna paid him and stood looking up at the old brick building.
“Shall I be coming up with you?” Ciara asked.
“I need to do this alone,” Alanna said. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to go to Thomas’s house.”
Ciara squeezed her fingers, then grabbed her two bags and hauled them toward the entrance. Alanna inhaled and did the same. Entering the building, she realized she’d forgotten how old the place smelled. It was old, built back in 1829. She took the lift to the third floor and carried her suitcases down the hall.
She set her bags down in front of the door and fumbled for the key in her purse. The lock took a bit of persuasion, as usual, but too soon the door swung open, and Alanna looked at her life the way it used to be.
The tiny living room still held the old green sofa they’d bought when they were first married. Liam’s collection of fishing flies sat on the coffee table. Alanna stepped across the stack of old mail and flyers the postman had left on the floor. The flat smelled stale and shut up.
Empty of Liam’s presence.
She blinked back the moisture in her eyes. Maybe it was just as well she didn’t sense Liam here. Her gaze went to the pile of old mail. Anyone who mattered knew how to contact them on the road, and all their bills went to a box at her accountant’s.
She carried the pile to the kitchen and began to toss each piece of junk mail into the garbage. The return address on one envelope caught her attention. It was from the private investigator she’d hired. The last she’d heard, he’d failed to find any trace of her sister, and that was over a year ago. She hadn’t expected to hear from him again.
She slit open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The investigator had turned up one small bit of information during inquiries into another matter. From what he could gather, her mother was last seen at a Traveller’s village outside Dublin in February. One month ago. Alanna didn’t particularly care about her mother’s whereabouts, but she hoped that finding her mum might lead to her sister, Neila.
Someone knocked on the door. Still stunned, Alanna went to answer it and found Ciara there. “Is it quite late?” Alanna asked, glancing at her watch.
“No, I just thought I’d help you. You might think you want to be alone, but I’m not having it. It’s not good for you.” Ciara brushed past her.
Alanna closed the door. “I’m glad you’re here. Look.” She handed the letter to her mate.
Ciara carried it to the sofa with her. She dropped onto the sofa and scanned the letter. “Your mum’s right here?”
Alanna sank into the chair opposite the sofa. “She was last month. I want to find Neila. I don’t care about my mum.”
“So you say. You have to be having some feelings for her.”
“Why should I have any love left for a woman who would just walk off and leave her three-year-old behind in a trailer, alone? She had so little care for me. But Neila had no say. She was only eight when Mum took her away with her.”
Ciara looked up from the letter. “We should check this place out.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Mate, you know I wouldn’t let you do this alone.”
Alanna studied her friend’s face. There hadn’t been an opportunity to tell Ciara about the baby. “I have news to tell them—and you. I’m pregnant.”
Ciara’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, Alanna. So a part of Liam is still with us.”
“Yes, it’s quite the comfort. I’m just over four months along. It’s a boy.”
“So far along! And you’re not showing.”
“I’ve been clever with my clothing choices.” She stood and smoothed her loose top over her tiny belly. “See?”
“Just barely.” Ciara folded her in a fierce hug. “Me and the rest of your mates will be here for you and that baby, Alanna.”
“I’m counting on that.” Alanna glanced at her watch. “It’s time we go to see Thomas and Sheila. I want to catch them before supper. My Citroen was serviced and left in the parking stall. We can take that. It will be grand to drive on the proper side of the road again. Let me change clothes. Thomas will be quite scandalized if I show up in jeans. Even the news of the baby won’t pacify.”
She left Ciara in the living room, then dragged her bag to the bedroom, where she changed into a navy skirt and jacket over a crisp white blouse. The despised navy pumps pinched her toes, but she wore them anyway.
Outside, she soaked up the sights and sounds of Dublin as she led Ciara to the car: the honks, good-natured calls between mates, the smell of mead spilling out of the pubs, and even the car exhaust. If only Liam were here with her.