Page 91 of The Altar Girls

‘Yes, I had to complete my worksheets for last week. They expect you to be an administrator as well as a carer in this place.’

‘How did you get out to Gaddstown in the snow?’

‘I drove. It was a nightmare journey. I’ve never seen weather so bad.’

‘And Alfie was at home that day?’

‘Yes, I got the text from the school and left him in bed. Don’t judge me, Inspector.’

‘I’m not. I’ve been there too. It’s not easy balancing a job with being a mother.’

‘True. It’s difficult. I do my best. Can’t say the same for some other people.’

‘Like who?’

‘Those two girls wouldn’t be dead if their mothers had cared for them properly. And they’re not even working mothers.’

‘That’s a bit harsh.’

Jacinta exhaled a long loud breath. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I suppose Zara works for herself, but she can do it from home if she wants. She hasn’t to go out in weather like this and leave her child home alone. She has the best of both worlds and she still let her little girl down. I would never let Alfie down like that.’

Lottie felt uneasy at the vehemence in the woman’s tone. She put out a hand to steady her. ‘When we spoke before, you gave me the impression that you didn’t know Willow’s family. But now…’

‘I know of them. That’s all.’

‘And you recognised Naomi straight away on Monday night. Do you know those girls and their families better than you’ve let on?’

‘No.’

‘And the girls have never been in your house?’

‘No.’ Jacinta ran a hand along her pale cheek and dropped her eyes. She seemed doubtful. ‘Not that I know of.’

‘But it’s possible.’

‘I work every hour God gives, Inspector. I can’t be in two places at once.’

Lottie wasn’t at all convinced. She made a mental note to dig further into the world of Jacinta Nally and her son. Straightening up, she turned the door handle.

‘You better get back to work. I’ll let myself out.’

Her mind was filled with Jacinta’s words and the image of Connolly and the dead woman. That alone convinced her that she would never allow Rose into a nursing home.

As she walked by the day room, she glanced inside. The man Jacinta had been reading to was seated in the same place. To his left she saw a lady in a wheelchair in conversation with a man who had his back to Lottie. But the spread of the shoulders, the cut of his dark hair led her to recognise him.

Father Keith Maguire.

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Without having any reason to do so, Lottie made her way over to the pair. She smiled at the older lady, who was bone thin, her cheekbones jutting out like spears and her hair slicked down in a grey bob. Dressed in a blue woollen cardigan buttoned to her neck and a pair of navy M&S polyester slacks, she had a look of irritation painted on her face.

‘What do you want?’ the woman said. ‘You can’t just interrupt this important conversation I’m having with my son. It’s not time for my walk. I didn’t even eat my lunch yet. What time is it, Keith? It can’t be walk time yet.’

The priest looked up. Seeing Lottie, he made to stand and stumbled. She put out a hand and steadied him.

‘Hello, Father Maguire. Is this your mother?’

He seemed flustered, his face flushed to a high colour.

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