‘No. You don’t.’ Elizabeth wondered what gave this dishevelled old woman in front of her joy. What was in her badly dyed head?
‘And Edward? What happened to him?’
‘I managed to get out of her that he was dead but that was all, and she made it very clear that she didn’t want to talk about him. She didn’t want to talk about any of it.’
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and tried to absorb what Rosemary was telling her. The woman she was describing was a stranger.
‘Sorry not to have been of more help.’ Rosemary drained her mug and got up to bring it to the sink. Elizabeth’s tea sat untouched. ‘If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.’ The interview, such as it had been, was over. Elizabeth got up and allowed herself to be ushered back to the front door.
‘Thank you. So strange to think that my mother could ever have done anything so scandalous!’
‘And she wasn’t a girl. She was a grown woman. Still, it was a different time. We were all a bunch of innocents.’
‘I suppose.’ Elizabeth turned to step back out into the street but then, remembering, added, ‘Oh, and thanks for the tea.’
Rosemary just raised an eyebrow and shut the door.
The blue skies were gone and pencil-grey clouds now lurked overhead with the promise of rain. With nothing else to do Elizabeth headed back towards Convent Hill. She was nearly at number sixty-two when her cousin Paul emerged from the house and greeted her.
‘Perfect timing!’
‘Is it? What can I do for you?’
‘I’m glad I caught you in time.’ Paul sucked his teeth and pushed his hair back from his eyes. ‘There’s no way you can stay in there. The place is coming down with rats.’
‘Oh, Christ.’ She shuddered.
‘Did you not see the droppings? They are all over the carpets, shelves, everywhere. I got young Dermot to take your bags down to the flat. Mam and Dad are only delighted to give you a bed for a few nights.’
The person who didn’t share their delight was Elizabeth. What fresh circle of hell was this? She had hoped to slip quietly in and out of town and now she was going to be sharing a bathroom with Uncle Jerry. It was too much. She struggled to think of some excuse to avoid the unthinkable.
‘That is so, so kind of them but I …’ Elizabeth twisted her head left and right searching for inspiration. Nothing. ‘The thing is I’m actually …’ And then suddenly it came to her. The letter in her back pocket. ‘Kilkenny!’ she cried as if it was Gaelic for eureka. ‘I have to head into Kilkenny to see the solicitor and I’ll stay there tonight.’ She was almost panting with relief.
‘But sure, just come back tonight. There is no need to be spending money on hotels,’ Paul argued, knowing that he was sure to get the blame if his cousin slipped through the family net.
‘I’d be afraid to drive back tonight. You know, jet lag. I don’t want to fall asleep at the wheel.’ She was on a roll now and Paul’s face seem to accept defeat.
Half an hour later, having retrieved her overnight bag from the flat above the shop – ‘Why Patricia had to use a solicitor over in Kilkenny I’ll never know.’ ‘Never wanted anyone to know her business, your mother.’ – Elizabeth was parked in a lay-by just outside Buncarragh on her phone. Having called Ernest O’Sullivan to explain that she happened to be in Kilkenny, an appointment had been made for later that afternoon. Then she left a message on her son Zach’s phone and was now leaving one on Elliot’s unanswered phone. ‘Just wanted to check in. Zach let me know that he made it there safely. Hope you two are having fun. Talk later. Bye.’ Hanging up, she immediately regretted her message. She always hated it on the rare occasions when Elliot actually took up his role as parent. Much as she complained, in truth, she had found that the last eight years as a single parent had suited her better than the endless discussions, bickering and uneasy compromises that had made up the bulk of Zach’s childhood. What sort of mobile to hang over the cot. When he should get his first pair of jeans. Some things were not meant to be decided by committee. She was her mother’s daughter, she supposed.
O’Sullivan and Company, solicitors, were easy to find. Housed in a tall stone-fronted building that must have been a former home to some fat cat, it was located on the Parade just opposite the walls of the castle. Arriving early, Elizabeth sat in the Design Centre up the street and had a coffee and a small slice of a tray bake that tasted even healthier than it looked. She left most of it. Elizabeth felt nervous, she didn’t know why. Her mother was not the sort of person to leave loose ends or ambiguity. The house was hers and hers alone. She really hoped that Jerry and Gillian or even Paul and Noelle had not tried to meddle in her affairs.