‘Great. Talk soon. Goodnight.’
‘Bye.’
Elizabeth dragged herself into the middle of the bed so that there was less chance of her sliding down the slope of the mattress onto the floor. She slipped under the light duvet and turned out the lamp. The glow from her phone lit up the room and she tapped on Zach’s name to call him. It rang. She waited. No reply and finally it went to voicemail. She sighed and hung up. She imagined Zach with Michelle, looking at ‘Mom’ blinking on the screen and telling his girlfriend horror stories about her. Her mind began to calculate the number of months that Michelle Giardino, maths tutor, had been coming to their apartment. At once a week at seventy dollars an hour that she couldn’t afford, this baby had already cost her thousands of dollars. Her mind whirled with all the things she wanted to say to Zach and Ms Giardino. How would she ever sleep?
She woke seven hours later still clutching her phone. Noises were coming from the kitchen and there was the distinctive smell of frying bacon. Elizabeth rubbed her face and yawned. Hopefully breakfast would be better than the meal her landlady had provided the night before. She was starving.
Auntie Eileen was standing in the middle of the kitchen floor with a tea towel draped over her arm when Elizabeth walked in. It looked as if she had been waiting. The artificial glare from the aquarium made the room seem more suitable for an autopsy than breakfast.
‘Good morning! Tea or coffee for you?’
Elizabeth normally preferred coffee but thought that tea was a safer bet. The table was set for one and she took her place. A small glass of orange juice stood beside a rack of toast which Elizabeth assumed must be cold. It was. This was in stark contrast to the plate her hostess took out of the oven and placed in front of her. The only clue to how long the plate had been in the oven was provided by the wrinkled dried-out state of the two sausages and strips of bacon. They looked like something that might have been found in a Neolithic tomb rather than on a menu. She sighed and reached for her tea. Perfectly good. Oh well, a liquid breakfast was better than nothing.
‘How was your night?’ the old lady enquired.
‘Good, thanks.’
Auntie Eileen stood by the side of the table, leaning forward. Clearly she expected more details.
‘It’s a very sweet pub.’
‘Yes, yes.’ A vigorous nodding in agreement. ‘More tea?’
‘Oh yes, please.’ Elizabeth pressed her fork against an unyielding sausage. ‘So I was going to try and see that lady you spoke about last night. The one by the Co-op. I’m sorry I don’t remember her name.’
‘Cathy Crowley,’ Auntie Eileen reminded her as she poured the tea. ‘But amn’t I after having a much better idea. Her mother, old Mrs Lynch, lives in a little bungalow there beside them. She’s some age but she still knows it all. Sharp as a tack. Anything you want to know about Castle House or the Foleys, she’s your woman.’
Elizabeth felt encouraged. She might get more answers than she had expected. ‘Thank you so much. I’ll do that.’
Auntie Eileen sucked her finger and then absented-mindedly dabbed some crumbs off the table and ate them.
‘I was thinking last night about that place.’
‘Castle House?’
‘Yes. I was just wondering if you’ll be back?’
‘Back?’ Elizabeth was slightly bewildered. Why would she ever come back to this place?
‘Well, you know, maybe you’d use it as a holiday home.’
Elizabeth felt so foolish. For a moment she had completely forgotten that she was a property owner in Muirinish.
‘I had just thought that I’d sell it.’ But even as she said the words she wondered if that was what she really wanted.
THEN
When she woke he was gone. All that remained was the indentation on the pillow and the memory of his body’s warmth when she had stirred during the night.
Patricia wasn’t sure if Mrs Foley knew what had happened but she seemed suspiciously chirpy when she brought in the breakfast tray and pulled back the curtains on another grey day.
‘Sleep well?’ she asked. Was that a smirk on her face?
‘Yes, thank you.’
Mrs Foley went to the other side of the room and sat in the high backed wooden chair beside the wardrobe.
‘I’ve been thinking.’ She paused, and Patricia looked up from buttering her toast. A small knot of dread tightened in her stomach.
‘Now that you are feeling much stronger, thank God, I thought it was time you helped out around the house, earned your keep.’ The old woman concluded her proposal with a tight smile.