Page 49 of Three Widows

‘Or maybe venetian? Do you have a preference? I can price them for you.’

‘Are you listening to me?’

Éilis had turned from the window. Jennifer looked so minute in her large bare kitchen. After her husband had died, she had hired a skip and in a fit of madness that was really grief had thrown out most of the furniture and appliances. Now, standing in the midst of nothing, her hair was as wild as her eyes, and her top and jeans were dust-covered. Her feet were bare, and Éilis worried that she might cut her feet on shards of plaster.

‘Jennifer, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to get involved. I think you need to take time to grieve. Leave well enough alone. That’s my advice.’

‘I told Damien about what I overheard in the clinic, and he said he would discuss it with his boss to see what could be done. I don’t know if he told her, and now he’s dead and it’s eating me up.’

Éilis’s head was mithered. ‘Jennifer, you don’t really know what you heard. I say leave it alone or it may come back to haunt you.’

‘I’m haunted as it is. Éilis, if it’s true, it’s a terrible crime and it should be punished.’

‘Let it go. It could destroy your career.’

‘I don’t care. I hate my job at Smile Brighter. And Frankie Bardon is such a fraud. I have to tackle him about this.’

‘Don’t do anything hasty.’

‘I’m going to talk to Orla Keating. If she doesn’t already know about this, I think it’s time she did, don’t you?’

Éilis took her A4 notebook from her satchel. ‘Can we discuss the blinds now?’

‘You don’t care, do you?’

With a sigh, Éilis looked at Jennifer and noticed tears flooding her eyes. She put down her notebook and approached her. ‘You’re going through a particularly rough time. It’s not easy when you lose the person you love. Take time out. Time for yourself. Then, if you’re still worried, we can talk about it.’

‘I really think I should tell someone.’

‘You’ve told me, and that’s enough for now. I’ll have a think and come up with a plan. For the time being, I really think it should remain between the two of us. Now, can we get back to blinds?’

That horrible truth Jennifer had overheard at the dental clinic. She wouldn’t let it go. Éilis had formed the widows’ group as a means to meet and talk. She knew Jennifer needed counselling, but she refused to acknowledge her grief. In the end, Éilis had agreed to help her. Wrong move, Mrs Lawlor!

Their meddling had caused her to be here, she was sure of it, and it was the most terrifying experience of her life. And what about Jennifer? She hadn’t seen her for weeks. Had this monster taken her?

She rested her head on her shoulder and cried, unable to wipe away her tears as she was still bound tightly. In a moment of clarity, she realised she might never see the outside of this room or her children ever again. And that was even more terrifying than any physical pain.

31

Cafferty’s bar was gloomy, though a streak of light filtered through as Kirby opened the door and settled on the dusty optics behind the bar. He glanced at his watch. Just gone half seven.

He was disappointed not to find Amy waiting for him. He had sent her a text half an hour ago and she’d sent back a thumbs-up emoji. He’d presumed that meant she was okay to meet him.

‘Pint, please, Darren,’ he told the barman. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he added, ‘And a small one.’

Darren placed a shot of whiskey in a tumbler on the counter and went about pouring the perfect pint of Guinness. A few old-timers sat beneath the television, chatting over the garbled sound. Two women were in one of the snugs and looked like they were discussing business, with a laptop open on the small round table. Otherwise the bar was empty.

Taking his whiskey, he dipped his head under the low arch and entered the lounge. Amy was sitting in the corner, scrolling on her phone, a cup of tea or coffee on the table. He remembered the glass in his hand. Shit.

She looked up and smiled, slipping her phone into her bag.

He sat down before his knees buckled. She was gorgeous. Her butterfly lips and deep brown eyes gave her petite face a movie-star look, and her hair was like a halo.

‘Amy,’ he said, and coughed. His voice was too high with emotion. ‘I see you bought me a coffee. I got you a whiskey.’

She grinned. ‘You are a scream, Larry Kirby. I couldn’t stomach any more alcohol. I used up my monthly quota last night. You look a lot better than you sounded on the phone.’

‘I died a thousand deaths all day, but I feel a lot better now. How are you?’

---