You sure you didn’t go near the house or hit the sensors …
I stop and frown, realising this is sounding like an accusation. No, I say bluntly.
I grab the super flashlight that’s beside the fire extinguisher. Advertised as the world’s brightest flashlight, it must come close with a blinding 4,100 lumens. I remember pointing it at bats with Marion, Jamie and Cyclops. You’re so weird, Marion had said with a laugh, watching me pack my bags to leave. What are you going to do with that in Dublin. It’s a city, there’ll be lights everywhere. Apparently you can barely see the stars there. Well, Marion, who’s the weirdo now.
Okay, well I didn’t want you to get a fright, Becky says, all nice again, as if she hadn’t just accused me of breaking into her house. But I don’t care, I’m excited the guards are coming.
As I pull the garage door closed behind me the flashlight illuminates the entire garden. I don’t know if Donnacha’s studio has an alarm. At five hundred euro for a small bowl that doesn’t hold anything, there’s a lot of value in that room. With the house alarm wailing in my ear I check the studio door. It’s locked. No smashed windows. I shine the light inside and see all his work in various levels of production and completion. All is still.
Hey there, I hear a man call.
I turn around and see two guards entering the garden from the side gate. My stomach flips with excitement. The male guard has got a tiny little torch, nothing like mine. I shine it in their direction, not in their face, I’m not stupid, and walk towards them. As I get closer I recognise them from the local station. The female garda is the cool one I see around the village. She wears lots of make-up and her blonde hair is tied up. She’s not much older than me. Could have been me, I think whenever I see her. I always say hi and wave at her as I pass the office. I smile at them now but they don’t reciprocate and I’m a little disappointed, in fact a lot disappointed that they don’t recognise me as the parking warden. My job is to essentially assist them, after all.
I’m Allegra Bird, I say, my hand extended. I’m the McGoverns’ tenant. I live above the gym. I point the torch at my room to show them. Becky told me you were on the way. I was worried about Donnacha’s studio, he has some valuable stuff in there, so I checked it out. No signs of forced entry. I haven’t checked the house yet. I turn my torch to the work studio and they take a few steps in that direction. The male garda walks up to the window. Looks inside. Checks the handle on the door. Same thing I did. I watch their every move. It could have been me.
Did you see anyone, he asks.
Nobody, I shout. The alarm is still wailing, it’s piercing my ears.
The female garda studies me, then they go to the house, checking windows and doors. They said it was the back garden sensor, she says to him.
Ah that would be here, I say, showing them the area around the patio immediately from the back wall of the house. It’s protected by sensors so it triggers anyone approaching the house.
You wouldn’t have set it off, would you, he asks.
No I came in the same way as you did. The sensors don’t protect that gate, so I can come and go without disturbing them. I shine my torch at the pedestrian gate they entered and highlight the route I take through the garden to the building in the back. I got home at exactly 10.30, so it couldn’t have been me anyway.
I’m sure they’re impressed by my detail. They’re taking me in anyway. Give me a job, I want to say to them, but I know they can’t just do that.
I was over there in the secret garden when it went off, I say.
Where.
I show them with my torch.
Why were you out here.
There was a fox. Oh, it was probably the fox that set off the alarm, I say, suddenly realising.
What did you say your name is, he asks.
Allegra Bird. I’m a parking warden in the village.
Oh yes, the woman garda says and I’m relieved she recognises me.
I wave in at you from time to time, when you’re in the office, I say.
You do, she says.
I applied for the guards, after school.
Well you’ve done a good job here, Allegra, she says. We’ll just take another look around.
It was probably the fox, I say following them. It could have been going for the bins. It usually comes in this way, somewhere behind here – I use the flashlight – and makes its way around here. Bins are over there. Recycling bins haven’t been taken since they went on holiday. It must have smelled the food.
The alarm finally goes off, but I can still hear it ringing in my ears.