The Boatman's Wife(35)

‘Well, you’d best be going, then,’ Niamh said, tightly.

He began to lope across the garden, but she found herself running after him, tugging on his jacket.

‘What’s in the bag, Brendan?’

He turned and gave her a good look.

‘I’ll be in contact,’ he said, not answering her question.

‘Brendan, I don’t want to do this anymore,’ Niamh heard herself saying. But Brendan kept on walking. Had he even heard her? More likely, he was ignoring her yet again. He would only tell her there was no way out, after all.

Niamh felt a flare of anger. This was her life, and she wanted it back. She followed him across the yard, although the stone was brutal on the bare soles of her feet.

‘Brendan,’ she hissed.

He swung round.

‘What is it, Niamh?’

‘I want out. I’m serious,’ she said.

They stared at each other. She’d known him all her life, but she still had no idea what he was thinking.

‘I’ll ask Daddy,’ he said, after an awkward pause. ‘Okay?’

‘Okay,’ she said, surprised by his answer, beginning to feel a tiny seed of hope.

He disappeared out through the gate, and she imagined him running down the lane to Deirdre, waiting for him in the driving seat of the car. Deirdre, with her curves clad in a little bomber jacket and mini skirt. Deirdre with her scarlet lips, cat-kohled green eyes, and long blond hair. Brendan opening up the boot. Hiding the guns – she was certain they were guns – under the spare tyre, while Deirdre turned the key in the ignition, her fingernails flashing red. She always drove, to distract the soldiers.

Niamh remembered when Brendan had first mentioned Deirdre. Four years ago now. Told Niamh that Deirdre was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

‘And a believer, too!’

It had made Niamh jealous. Motivated her to ask for more. To do more for the cause. She had wanted Brendan’s attention back.

Niamh stumbled across the yard, shivering, with Pixie at her feet. She let the dog back into the house and then crossed the garden to the shed, praying Jesse hadn’t woken. As she opened the door, she stepped on something sharp and gave a little squeal, lifting up her foot and squinting. A big thorn from the rose bush was sticking out of the pad of her heel. She pulled it out, then hopped into the shed.

To her relief, Jesse was still asleep. She slid back in next to him, still shivering, and nestled up to his warm body. Her foot was throbbing. She put her arms around Jesse and held him even tighter. But she couldn’t find sleep again. Brendan’s rude awakening had brought her back to reality. A nagging dread, as constant as the pain in her foot.





Chapter Nine





Rockland, Maine, 9th November 2017





Lily lay on her childhood bed, pressing her palms over her eyes to blot everything out, but all she could see was the look on her daddy’s face when Sheriff Frederickson had arrested him. What a spectacle the whole thing had been. Not that the gossip wouldn’t be all over town anyway, even if the memorial reception hadn’t been going on. But still, it felt as if her whole family had been stripped naked. She was so confused. What had just happened?

She lay there, listening to everyone leave. Next, she heard her mom’s footsteps outside on the landing. The door handle turned – but of course, she couldn’t open it as it was wedged shut with the chair.

‘Lily, will you come on out?’ her mom begged. ‘Come with me to the county jail to bail your father out.’

‘No, Mom, go away,’ Lily said.

‘I’ve got to go now,’ her mom said. This time Lily didn’t answer. ‘Okay, well, I’m off then.’

Again, Lily responded with silence.

A few minutes later, the house was quiet. Lily looked out of the window and all the cars, including her mom’s station wagon, had gone.

She pulled the chair away from the door handle, and opened it. Walked back downstairs into the deserted rooms of her husband’s memorial service. The half-eaten plates of food and dirty glasses. The flowers filling every vase. Someone had brought the hateful lilies back from the church, and their awful, cloying scent was filling the whole of her parents’ house.

Lily flung open the back door, ran across the garden to her own home, and slammed her door shut. She locked it. She didn’t want see or talk to anyone.

No one was who they seemed. Her father had been her icon. The whole of her childhood, she’d looked up to him. She had thought he was the best man in the world, until she had met Connor, of course. How lucky she had thought she was, to have two such wonderful men in her life. Her and Connor’s only issue had been about the babies, but they’d sorted that out. Just the night before he was taken from her.

Lily sat down at Connor’s desk. Stared at the computer screen, before accessing Connor’s emails again. She clicked on the email and read it once more.

She felt everything smashed inside of her. All she believed in, and who she was. Her father was a liar, and a coward. It was his fault Connor was gone. At the same time, Connor had lied to her, too. Who had sent him the email, and why? It was gnawing away at her. Her grief was now tinged with hurt. Why could her husband not have confided in her? What secret did he possess, to have invited such a vicious missive from a person who was a complete stranger to Lily?