Chapter 8
Handing over the fare, Eva smiled, while stepping out of the passenger seat of her taxi cab. ‘Thanks again,’ she said, to `Dead Delaney`, Eranmore‘s undertaker and taxi provider.
‘What time d’you want me back, miss?’
‘Is nine okay?’
‘Grand, by the way how’s old Sully treating you?’
‘Who?’
‘Sully, yer one?’ he nodded behind her to Mrs O’Sullivan who was bringing in a line of washing from the side of the house.
‘She’s quite nice,’ Eva smiled. ‘Wait’ll you see your bill,’ he laughed.
Perplexed by Delaney’s snipe, Eva suddenly felt a pang of unease. Turning to look at the landlady pulling pegs from the washing line, she suddenly had a bad feeling about the woman. The last thing she needed was to be is ripped-off. She decided she just might ask for an itemised bill of what was owed to-date, just to see how the land lay. She wasn’t going to be mugged off by anyone, especially on her limited budget. Walking up the path and through the front porch, she stepped inside smelling the delicious waft of home cooking. Though her stomach rumbled, she turned away from the kitchen deciding she would eat in Eranmore later on. Entering her room she stopped to look around at the chaos that Mel had left behind. ‘Wonder where the daft mare is?’ she said, rolling her eyes and clambering over the wet towels, strewn newspapers, and used dishes left over from lunch. ‘Shit, I hope she didn’t order room service.’ Eva slumped onto the side of the bed and picked up the phone, a high pitched shriek deafened her ear. ‘Bloody stupid thing,’ she sighed in exasperation. Looking around the room, she could see it for the dump it really was. If Delaney was right about old Sully, as he called her, she felt she might be better served moving to a B&B in Eranmore.
A quick shower and change of clothes later Eva was transformed, the result stunning yet understated. Looking at her watch she saw it had taken her thirty minutes to get ready. She cursed herself for being so early. Should have booked the cab for eight, she thought, rubbing her rumbling tummy. She was tempted to eat one of Mrs O’Sullivan’s offerings, as the aroma was driving her crazy. Before she had a chance to make her mind up the phone rang and she snatched it up..
‘Eva, it’s me.’
‘Where are you, Mel?’
‘Cork.’
‘Still...’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘I can’t fly out until the morning.’
‘Why don’t you come back here?’
‘You must be bloody joking!’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Wait until tomorrow?’
‘Why...? Won't Marc have gone to Corfu, or wherever...?’
‘But I’ve already booked a connecting flight to Gatwick’
‘Mel, will you please stop running after him,’ Eva couldn’t hold back.
‘I’m not!’
‘No... I bet his flight is taking off from Gatwick.’ Mel didn’t answer.
‘It is isn’t it?’
‘So?’
‘Mel, I’m not going to go on about this, but please, don’t do it, don’t meet him, don’t let him know how desperate you are.’
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Mel sniffed.
‘I know, but honesty, Mel, he’s going to hurt you. Don’t go to Gatwick.’
‘You don’t understand, Eva... I want him back,’ she sniffed ‘Do you know how to get him back?’
‘How?’
‘By not meeting him, by not caring, by not giving a shit.’
‘But--?’
‘But what, Mel...? Frightened you’ll lose him...? Don’t you think he’s made his mind up already?’
‘Might not have,’ Mel gulped. ‘C’mon, think about it.’
‘You don’t like him anyway?’
‘I don’t like the way he treats you.’ Prick that he is! Eva thought.
‘You can’t help who you fall in love with,’ the tremor in her voice was audible.
‘I know you can’t, but you can stop yourself from being treated like crap all the time.’
‘I love him,’ Mel interjected. Eva couldn’t answer that. ‘You still there, Eva?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What’ll I do, Evey?’ Mel sighed.
Eva hated hearing the raw desperation in her voice, especially knowing that that he was going to hurt Mel and in the worst possible way.
‘Look, this goes against all sanity...but I’m going to tell you to call his bluff.’
‘What...? That's crazy!’
‘Follow him then! Meet him at Gatwick! Tell him you love him! Ask him to stay!’
‘Eh...?’
‘Tell him how you feel, at least then you’ll finally know where you stand with him.’
‘You don’t mean that?’ Mel couldn’t hide the euphoria in her voice. ‘I do and I guarantee you’ll know what he wants pretty quickly.’
‘How come you’re telling me this now?’
‘Because, I just want you to be happy and I don’t want you blaming me if things don’t work out between you both. So go for it, Mel. But remember, if things don’t work out, I’ll be here for you.’
‘Thanks, Eva.’
‘So, get on that flight tomorrow and find out whatever it is you need to know.’
‘You’re right,’ the happiness in Mel’s voice distressed Eva no end, but she knew it was time for her sister to know the truth.
‘Which hotel are you staying at?’
‘When?’
‘Tonight,’ Eva added.
‘I was going to stay in the airport for the night.’
‘Don’t be silly, Mel. Besides, you’ve got to look your best if you’re going to see him tomorrow.’
‘You’re right.’
‘Go back to the flight desk and ask about a hotel for the night.’
‘Okay I will.’
‘Have you enough money?’
‘I’ve got Mum’s visa?’
Groan. ‘I suppose it is an emergency,’ Eva conceded. ‘Okay,’ her voice perked up.
‘Knock him dead,’ Eva said, forcing a happy tone into her voice. ‘Yeah, I will!’
‘Don’t forget, I’m here if you need me.’
‘Bye, Eva, and thanks again, you’re a sister in a mill`. I’ll send you a postcard.’
‘From where?’
‘Corfu silly,’ she answered, giggling.
As Eva replaced the receiver, her heart sank. She could feel with profound sadness what Mel was going to face tomorrow.
‘Missy?’ a knock disturbed her.
‘Yes?’ Eva answered without moving from the bed. ‘Are you hungry?’ asked Mrs O'Sullivan.
Eva’s eyes narrowed before she answered, ‘A bit.’
‘There’s some roast chicken left over for a bit of dinner, if you’d like some?’
‘One minute,’ Eva stood and walked across to the bedroom door.
Pulling it open she stood face to face with the flushed Mrs O’Sullivan, who jumped back surprised when the door sprang open.
‘Can I ask, Mrs O’Sullivan, am I being charged for the dinners?’ Eva asked with stony-faced expression.
‘Well, I do run a business, dearie?’ Mrs O’Sullivan said in a shrill voice, recovering her composure.
‘That’s fine. Have I also been charged for the tea?’
‘Of course.’
‘And there’s me thinking it was your kind hospitality,’ Eva smiled sarcastically.
‘As I said dearie--’
‘Yeah I know...this is a business,’ Eva was mad as hell. Old Delaney had been right, and worse, Eva had been stupidly naïve.
‘I’d like a total of my bill to-date, Mrs O’Sullivan, including any phone calls, usage of television and no doubt the extra roll of toilet paper my sister used,’ Eva added furiously.
‘But--’
‘And I would like it now,’ she said, interrupting Mrs O'Sullivan as she was about to protest.
‘You’ve booked for three more days,’ the fat women interjected smugly.
‘I’ll pay for our stay to-date, plus the extras I’ve mentioned and not a single penny more. Besides you have a deposit,’ Eva went to slam the door but pulled it open wide again.
‘And I will be reporting you to the Tourist Board for…for fraud, I don’t think they will take kindly to you ripping off tourists, now if you’ll excuse me, I have to pack.’ Eva slammed the door in the face of the very irate landlady. It took her less than five minutes to pack her bag. Everything she possessed was stuffed into the black holdall as she dragged it down the stairs behind her. Dumping her bag in the hall, she marched into the kitchen. As she entered the furious Mrs O’Sullivan raised her fat face, cheeks red and wobbling in temper.
‘The bill?’ Eva asked evenly.
‘I haven’t gotten it ready yet,’ Mrs O’Sullivan snapped back.
‘You can either have it ready for me now or post it onto me. Your choice.’ So direct was Eva’s command the woman buckled and retrieved a small handwritten list from her cardigan pocket. Eva snatched it from her hand and looked at the total. ‘It’s not itemised,’ she noted.
‘Pardon?’ the woman took a step back behind her husband.
‘It’s not itemised. You’ve overcharged me for something, I want to know what for.’
‘Excuse me young lady, but you seem to have gotten your wires crossed,’ the man grumbled.
‘No, your wife seems to have that problem. I’ll make it up for you, shall I?’ Grabbing a chair she pulled it out and sat down plucking a biro from the centre of the table and writing on the other side of the paper.
‘Let me see, one night with breakfast for two, anything else...?’ she peered up at the couple.
‘The chips and the casserole your sister had,’ Sully smirked. ‘What else?’ Eva snapped.
‘The phone call.’
‘What phone call?’
‘Your sister’s?’ she added, somewhat hopeful.
Eva knew she was being scammed. ‘I’ll just phone my sister, ask did she settle that, you don’t mind do you?’ she nodded to their phone, praying they wouldn’t call her bluff. It wasn’t as if she could contact Mel, but then how were they to know that.
‘Er, no,’ the husband muttered. Eva didn’t miss the nudge his wife gave him.
Slowly she tapped in their home number, hoping against hope that her bluff would work. Five digits were pressed and with each beep of the number, she could see the O’Sullivan’s getting more and more nervous. Mr O’Sullivan couldn’t bear it a digit longer. ‘Hang on, I think young Dathai settled that bill.’
‘Oh,’ Eva raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes.’
‘Good,’ she replaced the phone. ‘Well?’
‘I’ve a good mind to call the Guards on you?’ Mrs O’Sullivan seethed.
‘Go ahead,’ Eva swallowed bravely, though she began to have a sinking feeling that she may have over-stepped the mark.
‘Well I …’ Mrs O'Sullivan faltered. ‘Enough, Eilly’ the husband said.
‘Well?’
‘Pay for two nights and no more’ll be said,’ he sighed wearily.
Eva had the feeling there and then that the O’Sullivan’s had had this conversation many times before. They looked and sounded all too weary to argue with her, well, the husband at least. Taking out the money and deducting the phone call and deposit, she slapped the cash on the table.
‘I’d like to call a cab please, and yes, I will pay for the call.’ The husband nodded toward the phone behind her. Without another word she walked into the hall passing the five previously unseen faces of the O’Sullivan children, their mouths open wide in shock, and snatched up the handset and dialled the taxi's number.
Eva turned, grabbing her bag and storming to the front door, slamming it shut behind her. Secretly happy to be away from the dingy B&B, she walked down the path and through the front gate turning right onto the main road.
Two bloody days, I’m in the country and I’ve already made enemies. A small giggle slipped from her mouth as she walked a short distance from the house, enough to be out of sight of O’Sullivans. Waiting by the side of the road for Delaney and his hearse, she threw her bag down by her side and stood arms folded staring down the road she had travelled less than an hour before. Then it finally dawned on her, and the smile fell from her face. ‘Shit, I’m homeless.’
***
Dipping viciously into potholes, Oliver had to grip the steering wheel tight as he drove through the county roads at speed.
‘This will hardly help when I’m in labour in a few months?’ Mia winced as the seat-belt dug into her stomach.
‘Sorry love, I knew I should’ve taken the Bandon Road, it wouldn’t have been half as bad as this.’
Oliver had surprised her by coming home early and instead of bringing home a takeaway, had decided to bring her out to dinner. Booking Luigi’s, their favourite little Italian restaurant overlooking the bay, he wanted to enjoy a lovely meal with her and savour the time they had together until their baby arrived knowing in a few months, these impromptu dates would end. As if reading his thoughts, Mia smiled back at him which he caught as he changed gears. ‘What...?’ he smiled.
She didn’t answer.
‘Looking forward to seeing, Simone?’ he finally asked. ‘Sort of,’ she answered looking back out the window.
‘Something’s up between you two, isn’t it?’
‘To be honest, Ol’, I don’t know.’
‘Is that why you’re going up to see her?’
‘Yeah,' she sighed, ‘though, it may be a waste of time.’
‘Any idea what the issue is?’
‘None, but whatever it is, I’d like to find out.’
They drove on for another few miles before either of them spoke again.
‘Delaney’s booting it behind us,’ Oliver eyed the rear-view mirror.
Mia turned around in her seat and saw the hearse bouncing along the potholed road behind.
‘Emergency funeral?’ she laughed.
‘Emergency fare, more like,’ Oliver nodded up ahead to the young blonde standing at the side of the road. As Mia and Oliver got closer to her, the girl smiled a hello at them as she waved Delaney down. Oliver saluted back but shot another glance at her. He suddenly had the oddest feeling. Focusing on the road ahead, he couldn’t help but feel he knew the girl's face from somewhere, though from where he had no idea. Shaking the thoughts from his head he glanced across to Mia.
‘Hey, love, you okay?’ He frowned seeing distress upon her face. ‘Fine,’ she quickly smiled, but it faded as fast. The blonde girl at the side of the road had filled her with sudden and inexplicable angst.
She looked very familiar, like someone she used to know, someone from her past, but for the life of her she couldn’t think who. And then it came to her. It was the smile that did it. It reminded her of a smile she should have known all too well. That smile belonged to a mouth she had kissed, caressed and cared for, a lost love in an age long gone. It belonged to Tomas Murphy, Firinne’s father.
***
Ritchie knew it was time to come to a decision. When he felt the soft rain beginning to spit down upon him and the ravenous pangs of hunger twisting his stomach, he knew he had no choice but to go back home. But the very thought of seeing his father filled him with anger and fear. He knew Richard would have expected Mick McGuire to have meted out a beating to him and the fact that McGuire had not touched a single hair on his head would definitely disappoint his father.
Ritchie wasn’t stupid, he knew Mick McGuire was on the local council and that it had something to do with why his father had reacted the way that he had. It made it somewhat easier to accept what had happened, serving him up to the McGuire’s on a plate like that, to suit his own purposes. On the other hand, the lack of any visible injury might just set Richard off again. It was a risk he would have to take. Hunger, tiredness, and not a penny to his name, had forced his decision to go home, a temporary move if he had anything to do with it. Ritchie realised his father needed the backing from McGuire and the local council to rezone land he had bought, thereby doubling its value at a stroke. Not to mention the extended licensing hours for the hotel. Knowing his father as he did, he knew he would get it too.
The man was getting seriously richer by the day and no one, not family, not the local council, nor Mick McGuire, would stand in his way. With every deal shaken on, every deed signed, every contract fixed, Richard Gallagher was becoming very powerful and increasingly untouchable, a fact that Ritchie knew all too well. The more money his father made, the more intolerable he became. With every pound pouring into his pockets, Richard Gallagher had less and less regard for the woman he married and the children he'd sired. It was as if he had only needed them in the beginning, but now that they had served their purpose, he wanted rid of them. And knowing his father the way he did, he didn’t expect the man to tolerate that noose around his neck for very much longer.
Richard claimed, he had begun with nothing but the clothes on his back, that it had been his hard graft alone that had gotten him where he was today, conveniently ignoring the fact that the business was originally his father-in-law's. And in accordance with this warped version of history, claimed he would sooner leave everything to the local animal sanctuary than any of his useless children. In the meantime however, while they lived under his roof, he would agree to support them, this he saw as his duty. This 'support', as he had put it, had been purely for show. But it was of paramount importance, to Richard Gallagher, that the people of the community regarded him, as a devoted family man and great benevolent provider for his wife and children.
However behind closed doors, the moment Ritchie and his siblings left home, they were on their own, and Richard had told them this ever since they were old enough to walk. His youngest sister Ellen however, was most like her father, and had made some inroads with the man. She was the only one impervious to his bullying, his name calling, his frequent bouts of slaps and punches. Ellen had had her head screwed on, Ritchie guessed, but why anyone would want to be near the man, let alone work with him, he couldn’t figure out. The only thing he could acknowledge was that his sister was probably as devious as his father. As for his mother Susan, well she was as useful as a shovel with a hole in it. A weak and pathetic figure, one that Ritchie found hard to like anymore, let alone love. And increasingly, more often than not he began to despise her. His father was malicious and spiteful, a constant source of pain to them all, but what his mother did was worse. She just put up and shut up, and usually at the expense of him and his siblings. Not once did she come to their aid, to defend them, to deflect his colossal temper when he would go off on one.
From the time Richie could walk, his father was violent and unpredictable and he learned early to stay out of his way whenever he could. So, the thoughts of leaving home held no real fear for Richie as such, in fact he felt excited at the prospect of moving out. But first he needed hard cold cash. He had the total sum of eighty pounds in savings, enough to cover bed and board for a week, just about, so first he would need, for the first time in his life, a job.
Staying on at home was no longer a choice as his father would see to it that he would suffer if he stayed a moment longer than necessary. It suddenly occurred to Ritchie that there might be one person who could help him and that person was only waiting to offer his hand in aid.
Feeling happier, for the first time since the whole Claudia episode kicked off, he shoved his hands deep inside his pockets and braced his shoulders against the cold breeze and began the short walk from one side of town to the other. Within minutes he arrived at St. Jude’s cottages, a journey that took far less time than he last remembered. He walked slowly now, peering in at the front door of every house he passed. He was about to knock on the next door, when Delaney’s hearse chugged past, pulling up outside a house not ten yards from him. Taking his hands out of his pockets he jogged up toward the side of the long empty black hearse and rapped his knuckles on the driver’s window. Delaney wound down the window a couple of inches and peered up into Ritchie’s face.
‘What do you want, Gallagher?’ Delaney muttered.
Ritchie hesitated. He hadn’t expected Delaney’s hostility, but then remembered that the Claudia’s story was probably tearing around the town like wildfire.
‘Er…would you know where Dalton lives?’ he muttered in an unusually polite voice.
‘Who?’
‘Dalton?’
‘Who?’ Delaney pulled the window down an inch further.
‘Dalton...Pat Dalton.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where?’
‘Why?’
‘Eh?’
‘Why do you want to know, no doubt to give young Robbie more grief, eh?’ he scowled.
‘What...no. I need to talk to Pat…er…I’ve a message from my father,’ he lied.
‘Seems like Dalton's is popular today,’ Delaney muttered turning his head to the passenger on his left. Ritchie stood up, biting down hard on his lip to stifle his growing frustration. He saw the passenger door open and watched with surprise as a very pretty blonde girl stepped out onto the road.
‘Thanks again, Mr Delaney, it was good of you to come out so quickly,’ she spoke through the open door.
‘Told you old Sully would rob you,’ he grinned.
She smiled tipped him extra and climbed out of the hearse.
Walking past Ritchie she knocked on a paint-peeled wooden door. Ritchie followed looking up at the house recognising the faded blue paint on the sills of the windows.
The door swung open and Pat Dalton appeared eyeing the young girl with suspicion. Looking over her shoulder his lips parted wide into a crooked yellow smile. ‘Ritchie c’mon in,’ he said on seeing Richie standing on the path.
Ritchie slipped past Eva into the darkness of the hall.
Turning back to Eva Pat appraised her once more before finally speaking. ‘Yes?’
‘Can I speak with Mary please?’
Pat turned on his heel and left her standing on the doorstep. ‘Mary, someone’s at the door!’
Eva heard a distinct change in his voice as he spoke to Ritchie. ‘How are you, son?’
Mary appeared at the door before she heard anymore.
‘Eva, hello love, come on in,’ she said, ushering her through the front door for the second time that day.
‘Sorry to bother you, Mary, but I need some help.’
‘Of course, come inside.’
Eva struggled with her bag as she followed Mary into the kitchen passing the closed living-room door and the sound of deep male voices talking on the other side. Entering the kitchen the smell of cooked food wafted through the air causing her empty stomach to growl. She was much hungrier than she had realised.
‘Sit down, love,’ Mary was genuinely pleased to see the young girl, feeling an ease in her company. ‘What can I do for you, Eva? But before you say a thing how about some tea and sandwiches?’
‘Oh I'm fine, Mary, thank you.’
‘I’d have given you some dinner, but we finished eating over an hour ago.’
‘I’m sorry to intrude.’
‘You’re not. Now...tell me, what can I help you with?’ Mary asked, as she poured tea into a blue ceramic mug and removed the bread from the breadbasket.
‘Where do I begin?’ Eva smiled up at the homely woman, placing a steaming mug of tea in front of her.
Mary was hopping with excitement as the pretty young visitor told her about Mrs O’Sullivan and her fraudulent ways. It added a small bit of refreshing excitement to her otherwise monotonous day. The fact that she had accused infamous ‘scammin` Sully’ of fraud, made her reel with laughter. As Eva finished off her story they both heard the front door close gently.
‘It’s only me, Ma, sorry I missed din--’ Robbie stopped in the doorway.
‘De-ja-vu?’ Eva smiled.
‘Hello again,’ he smiled, hiding behind his thick dark hair. ‘Poor Eva here’s been through a bit of a commotion. I’ll ring Nora, she does B&B here in the town, I’m sure she'll have room for one more,’ Mary left the kitchen to use the phone, wishing she could let the girl stay, but knew Pat would only give out about it and would even say as much in front of the girl. Picking up the receiver she dialled the number, smiling as the low mumbled of voices could be heard from the kitchen.
‘I haven’t been here all day, I swear,’ Eva teased easily. Eva watched Robbie flick on the kettle though it was out of habit more than need. ‘So... have you finished work?’
‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘Finished for the night?’
‘Yep,’ he nodded again.
‘I was thinking of going to that pub...Mulcahy’s...? Is that the name?’
‘Yep.’
‘Are you going?’ she asked after a silence. ‘I might.’
‘So I might see you there then?’ He nodded again.
‘Right, that’s settled then.’ Mary announced, clapping her hands together as she walked back in.
Robbie peered at her from behind his fringe amazed by the perkiness in his mother's voice. She had really taken to this girl. ‘Nora has a spare room, though it hasn’t got a bath, only a shower.’
‘That‘s great. I’m really sorry to have bothered you, Mary.'
‘Tis fine, lovey, no bother at all,’ Mary turned toward her son and patted him on the arm.
‘Will you carry Eva’s bag over to Nora’s, pet?’
‘No prob',’ Robbie answered.
Eva stood and bent down to pick up her holdall. ‘Where you going, lovey?’ Mary asked.
‘To the B&B?’
‘No-no-no, you’re having something to eat first,’ Mary commanded.
Even Robbie chuckled on hearing his mother's cheery tone. ‘I think you’d better sit down, she means it,’ he said.
As Robbie joined her at the table he pushed his fringe off from his face. As his hand tugged back the thick mane of hair, Eva was startled by his strong jaw line and perfectly clear skin. Dark brown, almond-shaped eyes, topped by the thickest layers of long black lashes, set off by a strong straight nose on his angular tanned face.
The thick growth of dark stubble covering his jaw-line only added to his sensual masculinity. Eva could no longer concentrate on the sweet aroma of food. Her hunger had been replaced by sheer longing, a lust she hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity.
Breathing deeply she cleared her mind hoping for some distraction from her thoughts, but found it difficult to stop herself from staring at him. She had never been so instantly attracted to a man.
‘Now there you go, pet,’ Mary placed a dinner sized plate of chicken-salad sandwiches in front of Eva.
‘Mary that’s not a sandwich, that’s a picnic,’ Eva laughed. ‘Eat up, and there’s more tea, when you're ready.’
Eva moved the plate into the centre of the table.
‘I couldn’t eat all of that, c’mon Robbie, help me out,’ she pleaded playfully, and was rewarded with a full wide smile exposing his perfectly straight teeth. ‘Mary these are delicious.’ Eva continued to animate loudly with every bite of sandwich knowing her hosts found her amusing and appreciative. She stopped on hearing Pat Dalton and Ritchie Gallagher enter the room. Twisting her head around, she wiped the mayonnaise from her chin.
‘Mary, get some tea and sandwiches for this lad,’ Pat barked.
Eva turned back in her seat, feeling the sudden tension fill the room. Her eyes flitted across to Robbie whose easy smile had gone. Mary had also become silent.
‘Sit down there, son,’ Pat gestured to Ritchie.
Ritchie crossed the kitchen and pulled out a chair, but before he'd even sat, Robbie scraped his chair on the vinyl floor and stormed off with unmistakable disgust.
‘Hiya,’ Ritchie smiled.
Eva nodded politely unable to hide the discomfort she felt. ‘Rob?’ Mary called out.
Eva heard the anxiety in her voice and it unnerved her, and decided it was time to leave. The guest sitting across from her at the other side of the table was leaning back now in the chair with a newfound confidence and comfort. Or was it...arrogance? Eva surmised.
‘They look nice,’ Ritchie’s eyes widened at the plate of sandwiches’
‘They are,’ Eva muttered unable to ignore Ritchie, or the other man she presumed was Mary’s husband.
‘Mary don’t make any more sandwiches, he can have these,’ Eva pushed the plate toward Ritchie.
‘But...oh... Okay, Eva,’ Mary nodded watching Ritchie savage the contents of the plate.
‘I’ll be going, Mary, and thank you again,’ Eva smiled tugging her bag onto her shoulder, following Mary out to the front door.
‘Rob,’ Mary called up the stairs. ‘It’s okay, Mary, I’ll find it.’
‘Don’t be silly. And listen, don’t make a stranger of yourself, come and visit again before you leave.’
‘I will, Mary, but I won’t be leaving for a while yet.’