Hide Her Name (37 page)

Ten minutes later, when he went back into the interview room, Simon noted that Howard was deep in conversation with Miss Devlin, and Daisy was working her way through the biscuits.

‘Well?’ Howard enquired.

‘I am seeing him in the morning. We can have a good night’s rest ourselves beforehand.’

As they were gathering up their things to leave, Howard said to Simon, ‘I will run the ladies home now, in the panda, if that’s all right with you?’

Simon winked at Howard. ‘That’s fine by me,’ he replied and then asked, thoughtfully, ‘Daisy, what made you look out of the window that night if the place where the father was murdered isn’t under your bedroom window?’

Howard fleetingly wondered why they hadn’t asked that question when the tape recorder was running. How did Simon know which window was Daisy’s?

‘Oh, ’twas Bernadette,’ replied Daisy cheerfully.

‘Bernadette?’ Howard looked at Miss Devlin. ‘Who is Bernadette?’

‘Well, I know of only one,’ said Miss Devlin, holding on to her hat with one hand and removing her hatpin with the other, ‘but she died a few years back now. She was Nellie Deane’s mammy, so it can’t have been her.’

Miss Devlin picked up her gloves and handbag from the table, ready to leave.

‘Oh yes, ’twas,’ grinned Daisy. ‘She’s there all the time in the graveyard. I often watch her. I see all the ghosts. I was never afraid of them. I am now, though. I don’t want to see the priest. I don’t want to see his ghost, ever.’

Miss Devlin was speechless. Howard and Simon groaned in unison.

24

H
ARRY DIDN
’
T TELL
Maura he had been picked to play Joseph in the school nativity play. She heard it from Angela. Despite the churlish way in which Angela imparted the news, Maura thought her heart would burst with pride.

‘Our Harry is playing Joseph, is he? Our Harry? Well, isn’t that just the best bit of news we have had for a long time now, eh, Angela?’

Angela looked at her mother as though she had gone mad.

‘No, it isn’t,’ she replied. ‘If I had been picked for Mary, now that would be the best news. Harry’s a boy, so who cares what part he has in the play? All he has to do is put a tea towel on his head, wear the coat the sisters will make and carry a toy lamb.’

Angela continued to grumble, despite the fact that she could tell Maura had long since stopped listening.

‘At last,’ said Maura, flushed pink with pride, ‘this is something we can hold our heads up and smile about.’

It had been too long. Excited at the news, Maura knocked on the wall for Peggy to kick off the jungle mops. This was something to crow about, although Maura knew perfectly well that it would last only minutes, compared with the constant speculation about who had murdered Molly Barrett, the question that had now eclipsed the previous one, who murdered the priest.

The news about Harry’s starring role did not have the same joyous impact on Tommy, who fretted every single day about their Kitty.

‘Try and be pleased for Harry,’ Maura said to him that evening, once all the children were in bed.

‘I am, Maura, I’m trying. It would be easier to be happy for Harry if we could write to Kitty and tell her that her brother is to play Joseph. That would help.’

‘I know, but it is a long time off, Tommy. The school term has only just begun. There may be a chance, surely to God, somewhere between now and Christmas to get news to our Kitty. Rosie has written to say that, once Christmas is out of the way, Kitty will be back with us soon after. It will all fly past, Tommy. Our Kitty will be home soon, so she will. That is what I am holding on to.

‘Holy Mother!’ Maura shot up from the arm of the chair. ‘With all the excitement, I haven’t marked off today on the chart.’

She walked over to the range and picked up the pencil hanging from a piece of string, tied to a nail next to a chart she had made with the days marked off until Kitty returned to the fold.

Not one of Maura’s neighbours had questioned this, or even thought it was slightly odd. Maura was known to be a devoted mother and most of the women found it endearing how much she missed Kitty.

‘Just so typical of Maura, it is, to send Kitty to look after her poorly sister in Mayo, when she is missing her so much back here. God, she is the paragon of virtue, that woman is,’ said Peggy to Mrs Keating.

Standing on the doorstep, she leant out and snatched up two of her boys by the scruff of the neck as they ran past. She slapped both of them across the backs of their legs and ordered them into the house for their tea, never breaking her stride as she spoke. Mrs Keating didn’t bat an eyelid.

‘Aye, she is that, always has been,’ said Mrs Keating. ‘Any news, Peggy, about the murder? Did you get a chance to speak to that policeman, as you walked past? What did he say?’

‘Well then, now.’ Peggy leant in, folded her arms and lowered her voice. ‘It definitely wasn’t the bloody cat. Apparently, she had taken a chocolate sandwich cake out of the press and left it on a plate with a knife next to it in the kitchen. She didn’t expect to die, did Molly. She thought she was going back in for a slice. The only clue they have is a ciggie butt on the outhouse floor, which isn’t the brand Molly smokes. A Pall Mall it was. Who in God’s name smokes Pall Mall? They don’t even sell those around here.’

‘A Pall Mall?’ said Mrs Keating with a note of disbelief in her voice. ‘They only sell baccy, Woodies and Capstan Full Strength in the tobacconist on the Dock Road. Pall bloody Mall? ’Twasn’t anyone from around here, then?’

‘Aye,’ said Peggy, ‘I know that’s what I said, and a policeman wouldn’t lie to me. It was definitely a Pall Mall.’

At the same moment they both spotted Sheila running towards the entry.

‘Powwow in Maura’s,’ Sheila shouted down to them, as she shifted her toddler back into position on her hip.

‘Maura has been knocking for ye, Peggy.’

‘This is more like it, things getting back to normal,’ Peggy said to Mrs Keating as they both wobbled along, Peggy’s slippers squeaking and Mrs Keating’s nose wrinkling at the rising smell.

‘Only ye could describe gossip about a murder as getting back to normal, Peggy, shame on ye. I’ll see ye in mass tonight,’ said Mrs Keating as they both pushed in through Maura’s back gate.

Later that evening, as Maura drew another line through another day on her chart, Tommy stood from his chair at the table and walked over to his wife. He put his arms round her and hugged her deep into his chest. ‘I am proud of Harry, I am. I know it’s Harry and the others keeping the show on the road. If it weren’t for them kids, I’d be a dead man, Maura. Thank the Lord for our kids.’

‘It has been a struggle, Tommy, but we are doing all right now. Things are getting better. We have more money to find and despite the promise from Kathleen and Jerry that they will provide when the time comes, we must pay it back.’

‘We will, queen,’ said Tommy. ‘We will be paying it back for the rest of our lives, but pay it back we will, every half-penny.’

Maura kissed him on the lips and, putting a hand on either side of his face, looked into his eyes. She was now the stronger of the two. The news that Harry had been selected to play Joseph had picked her up more than any tonic could have. For Maura, the essence of her life was pride in her family.

‘Not long now, Tommy,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow will be a busy day and then, soon enough, the days will fly by and she will be back home. On the day the children go back to school after the Christmas holiday, she will be nearly home. The Christmas holidays will whizz by, they always do.’

Tommy nodded. The way Maura put it gave him hope. It sounded not far away at all.

Tommy had never worried about a thing in his life, other than whether or not the horse he had placed a shilling on would come in for him. He now spent hours of every day worrying about the future. He was convinced a new and unforeseen disaster was heading their way and nothing Maura could say would disabuse him of this notion. His fear was rooted in guilt.

Changing the subject, he spoke again of the thought that constantly nagged him and which, in the darkness and privacy of their bedroom, he and Maura discussed every night.

Tommy lowered his voice.

‘I can’t stop thinking about poor Molly Barrett. Me guts tell me that her murder was connected with ours.’ He dropped to a whisper. ‘But we know it can’t have feckin’ been. What is going on, Maura?’

‘I don’t know. The women came in this afternoon after school. Peggy talks to the policemen, wouldn’t she just! One told her they found a Pall Mall cigarette stub on Molly’s outhouse floor.’

‘A Pall Mall? Well, that means Molly’s murderer was a bloody queer, or a woman. No man I know smokes feckin’ Pall Mall!’

The back door latch clicked and Jerry stepped into the light of the kitchen from the black night outside.

Maura withdrew her hands from behind Tommy’s neck and slipped them back into her front apron pocket.

‘Eh, behave, put him down.’ Jerry winked at Maura. ‘I fancy a pint at the Anchor, you up for it, mate?’

Tommy looked at Maura who smiled her approval.

As he moved to take his jacket from the back of the door, Tommy said to Maura, ‘Don’t wait up, queen, you go to bed. I’ll wake you when I get in, though.’

Maura winked back at Tommy and grinned. She heard the familiar, ‘Ye lucky bastard,’ from Jerry, as they walked down the back path.

Shortly after Jerry and Tommy had left for the pub, Kathleen arrived in Maura’s kitchen.

‘How are things?’ she asked.

Casting her eye around, she could tell Maura had been hard at it, as usual.

The indoor washing pulley was suspended across the ceiling and from it hung a row of hovering white ghosts, wafting in the heat thermals from the range, masquerading as school shirts. As Kathleen looked up, she saw an array of children’s clothes and nappies, steaming in the rising heat.

‘No worse than usual,’ smiled Maura.

She couldn’t tell anyone of the horrible guilt she held deep inside. She was now happy to have left Kitty in the convent, happy that not a gossamer shred of shame would touch the family and that they had survived, intact in the eyes of her neighbours. She knew it would be tough for them all and she missed Kitty every single day. But hadn’t she, Maura, been the one revered above the others as the wisest woman on the street? Wasn’t hers the one house from which a child was likely to enter God’s service? Wasn’t it bad enough that everything she had striven for, all her married life, had been stripped from her by that man of the devil, without having to be publicly disgraced in front of her neighbours?

With the help of Kathleen, who was as good as family, she had come through and they were all safe.

Kitty would be home and then everything could be forgotten. Yes, she was relieved that she had left Kitty well cared for and looked after at the Abbey, but she knew Tommy would never understand. The Doherty family had not slipped from its pedestal. That was important.

‘I am still in shock about Molly,’ said Kathleen. ‘What the hell has happened there, Maura? Everyone is saying it is the same person who murdered the priest. What the bleedin’ hell is going on?’

Maura shook her head. If she had a pound for every time someone had asked her that question, she would be able to pay to take Kitty out of the convent on her own.

‘Here,’ said Kathleen, taking a bottle of Guinness out of each coat pocket. ‘Put the poker in those coals and let’s have a ciggie, too.’

Maura took two glasses down from the press and then shoved the poker into the fire, ready to plunge into the Guinness.

‘Jerry nipped to the pub and picked them up before he came back for Tommy,’ said Kathleen, nodding at the bottles. ‘He’s a good lad, is Jerry.’

Kathleen turned her head to watch the end of the poker turning bright red from the heat. She let out a huge sigh.

‘Jesus, I’m worried about Alice, Maura. Do ye know where she is tonight, by any chance?’

‘Alice?’ Maura said with surprise. ‘No. Is she not at home with ye lot?’

‘She’s not,’ Kathleen replied. ‘She went out after she put Joseph to bed at seven and said she was slipping down to Brigid’s. But I just passed Mrs McGuire and told her to pass a message on to Alice, when she got back indoors, to say that I was nipping over to see ye and that Nellie was watching Joseph. Mrs McGuire looked confused. She said Alice wasn’t there.’

‘Well, maybe she went to the off-licence for some cigs on the way?’

‘Aye, maybe, but she had a full packet before she left. I know, because I ran out and she gave me four Woodies from hers, to put in my packet.’

Maura opened the bottles, which let out a familiar welcome hiss, and slowly began to pour the Guinness into the glasses, which at one time had been the property of the Anchor.

‘Where was Mrs McGuire off to?’ asked Maura. ‘Not the bloody chippy again? That woman is never out of there.’

Maura took the poker from the fire and plunged it into Kathleen’s glass first. The sizzle of scorched Guinness filled the kitchen air, replacing the ever present smell of chip-pan fat.

Kathleen continued talking as Maura sat back in her chair. The dishes were done. The washing was drying. The boys’ shirts were made of the new Bri-Nylon drip dry and didn’t need to be ironed. She could relax without guilt.

‘She said she had been to the boxing club to fetch Sean. Had a bee in her bonnet, she did, about how much training he is putting in. Said Brigid did too much and she was going to fetch him out, to come home and spend some time with his wife and kids. She’s a tough woman, that Mrs McGuire. Mind you, there is no such thing as a soft woman from Galway. They don’t put up with any nonsense. Not like us daft bats from Mayo.’

Both women laughed. Neither was daft. Both were back in control.

‘But, Jaysus, she was giving out something wicked, she was. Had Little Paddy and Scamp to walk with her to the club, she said, being scared after Molly’s murder an’ all that, and Sean wasn’t even there. She then started asking me, had I seen Sean? I thought, Holy Mother of God, here we are, two grown women, out in the streets, worrying about two kids who are supposed to be grown-up. I said to her, tell you what, if you find Alice first, send her home to me, will ye, and if I find Sean, I’ll do the same with him. Kids!’