Strange Sally Diamond(63)

When we got back to the car, Dad moved his seat forward so Lindy could sit in the back. We drove off and Lindy chatted amiably to both of us. She sat carefully behind Dad in case she touched me by accident. I appreciated her thoughtfulness. Then we came out on to the main road.

Lindy said, ‘I’m sure we’re going the wrong way, James. You should have taken a left back there. Want me to jump out here?’

‘I think you should come back and have dinner with us. What do you think, Stevie?’ said Dad, picking up speed.

‘I’d love to, but I better tell Mum and Dad first? They’ll be raging if I go off with two strange fellas without telling them.’

Dad said nothing. He took a swerve off the main road and we began to drive over the back roads towards our house.

‘James, Mr Armstrong, what are you doing?’

‘Don’t worry, Lindy, we’ll drop you back in an hour, okay?’

Lindy went silent. I turned around to look at her and smiled. ‘It’ll be fun,’ I said, though I was thinking that Dad would be furious if I kept him waiting somewhere for an hour – not that I ever went anywhere without him.

But when we got to the house, instead of heading towards the porch, Dad put his hands on Lindy’s shoulders and steered her towards the barn. She flinched away from his touch. ‘I don’t like this. I want to go home. I want my mum.’ She began to cry.

‘Dad, perhaps we should take her back. She’s upset. It’s not fair on her.’

He pushed her towards the barn door, opened it and shoved her inside, then he pulled the door closed again and turned a key in a padlock I hadn’t seen before.

‘You wanted a friend. I got you one. Now quit whining!’

I could hear her but only faintly, hammering on the door. The last thing we had done was seal the egg-box lining with another layer of sheetrock, even on the door. If she was screaming, I couldn’t hear her at all.





37


Sally


A week after my house was sold, I heard from a lawyer that Conor Geary’s sister, Margaret, had died two months previously. Margaret seemed to have managed to keep a low profile all those years. There was no publicity surrounding her death or her relationship to Conor Geary. Her solicitor had contacted me to say that Margaret Geary had willed her house to me. A large detached house in a salubrious part of Dublin. The house where I had been held captive with my mother. It was my natural inheritance.

The paperwork was handled quickly, and I put the house up for sale immediately. Nobody knew I was the vendor. Geoff Barrington dealt with the legal end of things. I didn’t mention it to anyone, except Tina. This time, I didn’t give a damn about the ethics of who bought it, I wanted that house to be demolished. I took the first offer. It was a very significant amount of money. What would I do with it all?

When news got out that I had sold my own house in Carricksheedy, I decided that I would have a party after all. All of my friends encouraged me. Who would have thought that I would have so many friends this time last year? Tina convinced me that it was a good idea too. I could ask everyone to bring a dish of food for sharing and, in return, I could offer them any of the furniture or household items I would no longer need. The only pieces I wanted to keep were my piano, my bed and perhaps my dad’s office desk.

The party was planned for the afternoon of Saturday 14th September. The guest list was long: Angela and Nadine, Aunt Christine (who would stay the night), Mark, Stella and her husband, Kieran, Kenneth and Sue, Anubha, Martha and Udo, Laura from the Gala supermarket, Fernanda and Rodriguo, Valerie from the cafe and Ger McCarthy, as well as all of their kids. Sixteen adults and seven children altogether.

I also invited Geoff Barrington, the solicitor, out of politeness, who thankfully declined, and Tina, who said that it was best if we kept our relationship on a professional footing.

I rented a marquee-style tent and a bouncy castle for the children. I also hired a security guard. A female one. I spoke to her on the phone and I looked her up on the internet. She was tall and strong-looking, lots of tattoos. When I told Sue and Martha, they were taken aback, but I reminded them that my mother was snatched from a garden on a sunny day. Also, at the back of my mind, although I tried hard not to think about it, Conor Geary was still out there somewhere. He knew where I lived. I didn’t want to risk him or anyone like him abducting children from my garden.

Not content with designing my new home, Nadine arrived the day before the party with festoons of bunting and lights, which she hung from tree to tree. She helped me empty the cupboards of all the stuff I didn’t want to bring with me to the cottage. We had marked everything that was up for grabs with yellow Post-it Notes. Guests could take what they wanted. Nadine suggested that we taste some of the wine to make sure it was okay. She was such good company, talking about the cottage. I would be able to move in in mid-October. ‘There will still be a few finishing touches to be done,’ she said, ‘but it will be home.’

Although I didn’t expect to, I slept well the night before the party. I woke with a dry mouth and a slight headache. I don’t think we should have tested the red, white and the rosé. I struggled out of bed.

Sue arrived early to help, bearing several containers of bean salads, flavoured rice and empanadas. Two men came in a truck and took half an hour to inflate the giant castle on the site Nadine had designated. They were friendly and wished us a good time. They would return to collect it on Monday.