Page 50 of The Altar Girls

‘Oh, hi there. I’m glad I have the right house, because it’s mad weather out. You contacted me, said you wanted to have a word, and with all that’s going on, I decided to call on you for a chat. If that’s all right.’

She shook her head in confusion. ‘Who are you?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to say. Julian. Julian Bradley.’

That stymied her for a moment. Had the social worker driven the whole way from Sligo to talk to her? In such bad weather too. She should feel grateful for his efforts, but she couldn’t help the knot of anxiety that twisted in her guts. How did he know where she lived? She was alone with her ten-year-old daughter, even though Carol was due back. But this man might shed some light on why little Naomi had been murdered. At the very least she might get the Kiernans’ backstory from him.

‘Just a minute.’ She closed over the door, undid the chain and opened it again. ‘Come in. Don’t mind the mess. No school today.’

When he walked into the narrow hallway, she noticed that his hair was long, and fair like his skin; his nose pointed sharply, while his pale blue eyes scanned the hall and stairs. He took off his damp jacket and hung it on the banister.

‘We can talk in the kitchen,’ she said, annoyed at this act of familiarity. ‘Annie is dancing in the sitting room.’

When they were seated at the small round table, Sinead felt he was a little too close, but there was nothing she could do. Her house was tiny.

‘Nice place. You been here long?’

None of your business, she wanted to say. ‘A few years. I like it.’

‘That’s good. And Annie? She’s your daughter?’

Now she felt doubly uncomfortable. He was a social worker in child services. She had nothing to hide, but wondered if it had been a mistake allowing him into her home. She could have put him off for an hour and agreed to meet in a coffee shop. Too late now.

‘How did you know where I live?’

‘A little digging and a phone call. Easy enough when you have the right contacts.’ He smiled, but it did nothing to reassure her.

‘You’re here to talk about the Kiernan family?’

‘That’s right. Shocking what’s happened to little Naomi. If her father wasn’t in jail, I’d be sure he was responsible.’

‘He attacked you, is that correct?’

‘He did. In broad daylight. On his doorstep.’

‘Er, Julian, can I record this conversation?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t. The court granted me anonymity and I’d like it kept that way if at all possible.’

‘I won’t mention your name in any report, it’s just so I can recall our conversation.’

‘I don’t think I have anything to say to help you.’

‘Then why did you drive the whole way to Ragmullin?’

‘I want you to know the true story of what that family is like. It will give you background, but you can’t report it.’

‘Right so. Would you like a coffee?’

‘I would, thanks.’

Sinead was conscious of his eyes following her every move in her small kitchen. Her hands shook as she filled the carafe, and she spilled water on the floor as she moved it to the counter. At least Annie continued to dance, the thump of her feet still out of sync with the music.

When at last she had the coffee poured into mugs, she turned to place them on the table and found him staring at her. His expression totally unnerved her. She sat quickly, slopping coffee on the table.

‘Milk?’ she asked.

‘No thanks. I need the fortification of full black. None of the flat skinny for me.’

---