Lottie bit her lip, silencing an impulsive retort. She watched Rose picking at the food. The once tall, vibrant seventy-six-year-old was now a shadow of that woman. Her hair, which used to stand to attention in short silver strands, was plastered to her skull, with white skin peeking out in places. Her head appeared to have shrunk with the rest of her body. Although Lottie tried hard, very hard, she couldn’t feel any love for the woman who had raised her, and who she had thought of as her mother for forty-four years. She couldn’t find forgiveness in her heart. But she knew it wasn’t this woman lying here that she couldn’t forgive. It was the woman Rose used to be. And it was the lie. She could never forgive the lie. Of course, she also knew that it was all her father’s fault.
Returning with the sugar bowl, she said, ‘You need to see a doctor.’
‘I’m not changing doctors at this stage of my life. I’ll wait until Dr O’Shea comes back to town.’
Lottie sighed. She had no idea when her friend Annabelle O’Shea would return to Ragmullin. She hoped it would be soon; she was running out of pills.
‘I don’t know how long she’ll be away, and this staying in bed all day is not normal for you.’
‘Not one day of my life has been normal since I married your father. So off with you. Go home and watch your children. And here.’ Rose handed her the plate of food. ‘I can’t eat this. It’s like the hide off a donkey.’
Lottie sighed. She could never win where Rose Fitzpatrick was concerned. ‘Do you even know what the hide of a donkey tastes like?’
She left without waiting for an answer.
* * *
‘You’re home early,’ Grace said with a smile.
‘Change of plans.’ Boyd took off his jacket and loosened his tie. ‘What are you watching?’
‘You’re changing the subject.’ Grace pressed a button on the remote and folded her arms as the television screen faded to black.
Boyd folded himself into his armchair, pulled off his shoes and nudged them under the coffee table in front of him.
‘Would you like—’ she began.
‘Don’t mention tea.’
‘I was going to ask if you wanted a drink.’
‘Yeah, great. Thanks.’
As Grace went to the kitchenette, she said, ‘I can assume things didn’t work out with the delightful Lottie Parker. And in case you have forgotten, I have yet to meet her.’
‘You don’t have to meet her. Anyway, her family had other things planned for this evening. I have to reschedule.’
Grace handed him a bottle of Heineken and sat down with a glass of Diet Coke for herself. ‘Reschedule? I thought it was a date, not a work meeting.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘You should say what you mean.’
‘Don’t start.’
Grace sipped her drink with a smile. Boyd couldn’t help himself. He smiled too. His sister sounded so like Lottie, it was uncanny. And then in other ways she was a million miles removed from his boss.
‘You are a very lonely man,’ Grace said, pulling at her short brown hair.
Boyd glanced up. She was staring at him over the rim of the glass.
‘Where did that come from?’ he said.
‘I am astute, even though everyone thinks I’m stupid.’
‘You’re one of the most intelligent people I know.’
‘Thank you, brother dear.’
‘No need to be cynical.’
‘I don’t do cynical.’
Boyd sighed and took a swig of his lager. He thought of the way Lottie had rushed him out of her house. No matter what she said about her mother, no matter how confused she was over her parentage, she possessed an innate sense of duty of care to Rose. Family was everything to Lottie Parker, and he despaired that he could ever be part of that family.
‘You are lonely,’ Grace said.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I am not,’ he denied, a little too forcefully. ‘I like my own company and my own space.’
‘I won’t be here for long.’ Grace put her glass on the coffee table and picked up the remote control again.
‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Sorry. Believe me, I honestly didn’t mean that you’re in the way. I love having you here.’
‘You’re an awful liar.’
‘And you can’t lie to save your life.’
They both laughed.
‘True.’ She switched on the television. ‘I want to meet Lottie. You better organise it, soon.’
‘Okay.’
He sipped his beer. This was only the third day of Grace staying with him; there was still three and a half more weeks to go. He wondered just how he was going to put up with his sister sharing his home.
Twenty-Five
After the railway preservation meeting, a few of the committee members went to Cafferty’s pub, and sat at a round table, pints of Guinness in front of them.
‘The station will close down no matter what we do,’ the chairman said. ‘I’ll be out of a job.’
‘We have to fight to the bitter end,’ Cillian O’Donnell said.
‘We need television coverage,’ Bernard Fahy suggested.
‘I’ll see if I can find out anything.’ Cillian sipped his pint. He smoothed down his dark hair as the chairman waved a tired hand and headed for the door.
‘Thanks for that. Goodnight, lads.’
‘Maybe we could have a march on Leinster House,’ Cillian said when it was just the three of them left.
‘Bit cold for marching this time of year. Very few would turn up,’ Bernard said.
‘The weather must be good for your business then.’ Cillian smirked.
‘The graveyard is filling up nicely. Trying to keep the banshees away and all. And the guards.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Cillian sat up straight and stared at him.
‘Oh go on, tell us,’ Finn urged. ‘Nothing like a few witches to take our minds off the railway bastards.’
‘Piss off, the pair of you,’ Bernard snorted. ‘I’m the one who has to walk around there in the dark.’
‘Doing night duty, are you?’ Finn straightened his back and gave a mock salute with his dripping pint. ‘Keeper of the dead.’
‘You’re very funny. Ha ha. But I’m not laughing. There’s queer things goings on there. Wasn’t I trying to get an old woman buried this morning, and this detective was snooping around because of the screams the young traveller one heard—’
‘What are you on about?’ Cillian said. ‘What screams? What happened?’
‘All serious now, aren’t you? A young woman was found dead in the bottom of the grave.’ Bernard put the glass to his lips and drained the black liquid in a single gulp.
‘A dead woman? In a grave?’ Finn said.
‘Jaysus. I’ve heard it all now.’ Cillian sipped his pint.
‘Whole place is cordoned off. I can’t get in. No one can.’ Bernard grabbed his coat. ‘I’m off home. See you next Wednesday? Same time?’
‘Sure,’ the brothers said.
He flattened his cap to his head, pulled on his well-worn black council jacket and headed out into the frost of the night.
‘He’s a real oddball,’ Cillian said. ‘A body in a grave? Now that’s nothing new, is it?’
Finn stared into the frothy head on his pint, dreading the prospect of going home to Sara. The thought of seeing her frosty face was unappealing. If he could stay out until after eleven, then she would definitely be in bed. Clockwork. That was what she was. He was convinced that a horologist lived inside her ribcage, winding up dials linked to her brain. Time for this. Time for that. You’re late for this. You’re late for that. For fuck’s sake!
‘All right there, lads?’ Darren, the barman, asked from behind the counter.
‘I will be. Just as soon as I finish this,’ Finn said.
‘Any luck with the plans to keep the station open?’ Darren asked as he polished a glass with a tea cloth.
‘Ongoing,’ Cillian said.
‘If anyone can get them to change their minds, you can.’ Darren reached up and put the glass on the shelf. ‘Awful news about that young woman found murdered in the graveyard.’
‘Murdered? I didn’t hear that bit.’ Finn pulled on his navy anorak and zipped it up. Time to face the clockwork orange once again. The thought filled his stomach with bile.
‘Where are you off to?’ Cillian said as the brothers left the pub together.
‘Home,’ Finn said.
‘We need to meet with Dad this week.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s Lynn’s tenth anniversary. On Sunday.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten.’ Finn looked up at the night sky. ‘The first one without Mother. Do you think we should do a fresh appeal?’
‘Not going to bring her back, is it?’
‘You never know,’ Finn said.
‘It might send Dad over the edge. According to Keelan, he’s lighting candles. She says he’s in a bad way.’
‘Was he ever any other? The fucking bastard.’
‘Hey, keep it down. No need to tell the world.’
‘You always did like to bury the truth, didn’t you?’ Finn pulled his collar tighter to his throat and walked away from his brother.