Laura was thrown for a second. ‘Oh. I’m sorry, Mrs Doherty. I didn’t know that.’ Laura hadn’t even known there had been a Mr Doherty.
Her neighbour made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘Sure, when you start to forget dates, you start to lose your head, so you do.’
Mrs Doherty’s brain was still razor-sharp, but her arthritis meant she was losing some of her mobility, so Laura ran errands for her whenever her hips were playing up. ‘Do you need me to get you anything, Mrs Doherty? I can pick up some shopping after work if you like?’
‘Och, no pet, thank you. Right as rain today.’
Mrs Doherty nodded towards her tartan shopping cart and wheeled it over to the lift, which they rode down to the ground floor together. Then Laura headed for the bus stop.
The library opened at 9:30 but Laura and her colleagues usually arrived half an hour early so they could have a chat and a cup of tea together before work. As usual, Claire was already in the staffroom when Laura arrived that morning. She was wearing a flowery sundress with sandals. She had her back to Laura and was pouring milk into four mugs.
‘Good morning. What a pretty dress!’ Laura said.
Claire turned round, her large hoop earrings rocking energetically from side to side with the movement.
‘Hiya. Happy birthday!’ She put the carton of milk on the counter and picked up a small, beautifully gift-wrapped box, which she held out to Laura.
‘You shouldn’t have. That’s so sweet of you.’
‘Are you excited?’ Claire asked.
Laura frowned. Did she mean about the present? About turning thirty?
‘Four weeks tomorrow!’
‘Ah. Oh. Yes. I still have a few things to get before then, but I can’t wait,’ Laura said, as a small knot of trepidation tied itself in her stomach.
Laura picked off the Sellotape and opened the present. It was a necklace, a colourful glass pendant on a red ribbon. Laura remembered admiring a similar necklace around Claire’s neck a few months ago.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, moved. ‘Thank you.’
As Claire was tying the necklace around Laura’s neck, Ava and Sarah arrived. Both in their mid-twenties, they were the same height and build, when Ava wasn’t wearing heels. But the similarities stopped there. Sarah had fine blond hair, scooped back into a ponytail, and wore a serious expression as her default setting. Ava, on the other hand, had an unruly mane of thick, dark hair and flawless skin with permanently rosy cheeks. She had prominent front teeth, which were all the more noticeable as they were naturally very white and she smiled a lot.
‘Happy birthday,’ they chorused. They came bearing gifts, too. Laura hadn’t expected any of them to remember, let alone buy her presents, and for a moment she was choked up. They looked at her expectantly, Ava flashing her signature wide smile.
Claire finished making the tea and handed round the mugs while Laura opened Ava’s and Sarah’s presents. Ava had bought her an orange and yellow chiffon scarf.
‘It’s beautiful, thank you.’ Laura tended to wear black in the hope it flattered her body, so she could wear the scarf or the necklace with pretty much anything in her wardrobe. It might make her outfits more summery.
Sarah had bought her a set of mini Yankee candles.
‘That’ll help brighten up my flat,’ Laura said, realizing she’d complained to Sarah the other day about how grubby her flat was. ‘That was thoughtful of you.’
Looking at her colleagues now, Laura felt a little spark of excitement at the idea of going to France with them. They were kind, thoughtful people. They would have fun together. Once they got off the damn plane. She drained her tea and went to get ready.
She was running Rhythm and Rhyme that morning and by eleven o’clock, she and a group of under-fives with their accompanying adults were stomping like elephants, prowling like tigers and jumping like kangaroos around the room. After that day’s story, The Tiger Who Came To Tea, which was always a firm favourite with kids and carers alike, Laura did some finger-counting rhymes to end the session. When the half hour was up, she was exhausted and sweating like an animal herself.
The rest of the morning raced by and it was only when her stomach rumbled that Laura realized it was past midday. She ate lunch with her mother on Fridays. It had become a thing. Seeing as it was her birthday, maybe Noreen would take her to The Titanic Pub and Kitchen. It was just round the corner and Laura liked it there, as much for the atmosphere as for the food, although her mother considered it to be a tacky tourist trap.
Her mum was talking to Ava when Laura found her in the entrance hall. As they left, Noreen hissed, ‘She has a face only a mother could love, that one.’ Laura nudged her, afraid Ava might have overheard. ‘It’s true. She could eat an apple through a tennis racket with those teeth.’
Laura could feel her face burning. As they stepped outside, she turned to her mother. ‘Ava’s nice and that’s not—’
‘Oh, come on. I was joking. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl. Many happy returns of the day,’ she said, deftly changing the subject before Laura could protest any further. ‘I didn’t get you a present,’ she continued. ‘I thought we could choose something together in your lunch break.’
‘What? Now? We won’t have time to eat if we go shopping.’
‘Well, it’ll not do you any harm to skip a meal now, will it? Let’s go to CastleCourt. I’ll buy you some clothes for your holidays.’
It was a strange experience. Laura hated clothes shopping and tended to buy stuff online. She tried on garments her mother chose – things she wouldn’t normally buy herself – and then blushed as Noreen made her walk up and down and do twirls in front of the changing cubicle in Debenhams. Laura felt as if she was being made to parade naked along a catwalk in front of a large audience, certain the other shoppers were staring at her. With each outfit, Laura tried to gauge her mother’s reaction, hoping for approval, but expecting to read disappointment in her expression. But Noreen remained impassive.
Laura had to admit, though, her mum had an eye for this. The colours Noreen picked – greens and blues, with white rather than black, suited Laura’s pale complexion and went well with her ginger hair. Plus the clothes were comfortable. Her mother splashed out and bought her three dresses, five T-shirts, a pair of jeans and two pairs of shoes. She’d always been generous with her money, her mum. Laura decided to go on a diet. She’d look better in her new clothes if she were a bit slimmer.
She returned to the library ravenous. Her stomach growled all afternoon and by the end of the day she had a headache. She was glad the library closed early on Fridays. She could stop off at the supermarket on the way home and get what she needed to make herself a healthy dinner. Veggie lasagne, maybe. And some soda bread. That wouldn’t hurt. Especially as she hadn’t had any lunch. And she’d buy a bottle of wine for Mrs Doherty to thank her for agreeing to look after Harry while she was away next month. Then she could curl up on the sofa and read for a bit before getting an early night.
But her colleagues had other ideas.
‘It’s your birthday. Let’s go for a drink!’ Claire suggested as they finished work.
‘What about a drink and a meal?’ said Sarah. ‘I’m starving and it’s not good to drink on an empty stomach.’
‘Ooh, it’s Friday. Let’s make it a girlie night out,’ Ava said.
Laura left the bags of new clothes in the staffroom and allowed herself to be persuaded to go out. She’d been for a drink with Claire a few times and she’d had lunch with Sarah and Sarah’s mum on at least two occasions. But she’d never socialized with Ava. She didn’t know her as well as the others.
‘What did you have in mind?’ Sarah asked Ava.
‘Might as well get something to eat in Muriel’s, seeing as it’s not far, then we could move on to The Spaniard?’
Laura wondered if Ava was planning a pub crawl. She’d been to The Spaniard once with Declan and Patrick, but she’d never heard of Muriel’s.
Ava filled her in. ‘Muriel’s Café Bar. Gins to die for. Food’s great, too.’
Laura found Muriel’s to be a classy bar, despite the knickers suspended on clotheslines around the ceiling, a wink at the establishment’s past as a brothel, according to Claire. They were lucky enough to get a window seat upstairs. Ava was right. The food and the gin cocktails were delicious. And Ava turned out to be a hoot.
Over Cajun chicken burgers, pepper fries, nachos, guacamole and mixed berry mojitos, the conversation turned to their respective love lives. Sarah had a steady boyfriend, Claire had a string of exes, Laura was embarrassed to admit she hadn’t been out with anyone for more than two years. Ava, who wasn’t at all ashamed of her single status, regaled them with stories of her latest disastrous dates.
‘I’ve been on two so far this month,’ she said, ‘and I’m starting to think I’ll never find Mr Right.’
‘What was wrong with these two?’ asked Sarah.
‘Well, first there was Aiden. Other than the chunky chain around his neck, he was fine.’
‘You didn’t see him again because he wore a necklace?’ Sarah asked, incredulous.
‘No. I’m not that shallow! I’m not finished.’ Ava took a gulp of her gin. ‘At the end of the evening, he offered to drop me home and asked would I mind if we called in to see his granda on the way. He said it was “a difficult anniversary.”’ She made air quotes with her fingers. ‘So, I said, yes, of course. I figured his grandmother must have died on that date or something and it was hard on the old man.’
‘So, what did he mean?’ Laura asked, absent-mindedly twirling the paper umbrella from her cocktail between her fingers.
‘He took me to Milltown Bloody Cemetery,’ Ava continued. ‘It was the anniversary of his granda’s death.’
‘No!’ Laura suppressed a giggle as Claire’s mouth dropped open.
‘It was eleven o’clock at night and I was in a graveyard for feck’s sake. I was bricking it. I even texted me ma so she’d know where I was in case anything happened to me.’
Ava paused, for breath or to drink more gin, Laura wasn’t sure which. She had no idea if Ava was exaggerating or even making all this up, but as Declan often said, you shouldn’t let the truth get in the way of a good story.
When she’d finished laughing, Claire spoke the words Laura was thinking. ‘I can’t understand how no one has snapped you up, Ava. You’re lovely, smart and funny. Any bloke would be lucky to have you.’
‘So what happened on the second date?’ Sarah prompted before Ava could respond.
‘That one didn’t get off to a great start,’ Ava said. ‘As soon as Liam walked into the restaurant, he said, “From your photo I was afraid you’d be out of my league, but now I’ve seen you in the flesh, I feel more confident.” I almost walked out, but I thought I’d give him a chance.’
‘Not the best chat-up line,’ Laura agreed, giggling.
‘No, indeed. Anyway, when I went to the ladies’, the waitress was in there. She told me I was his third date that week. It was only Wednesday! I climbed out the toilet window and called a cab.’
It was one o’clock in the morning when Laura’s cab dropped her home. She’d had a wonderful evening and knew she would have a hangover.
‘I’ll do some exercise tomorrow,’ she said to Harry. She could go for a walk, a swim or even a bike ride. Tonight had been a temporary blip, but she’d get back on her diet tomorrow. She didn’t need to lose that much weight and she still had a whole month before the trip to France.
Yeah, right. Who are you kidding?
The little voice in her head – the one that sounded like her mother, the one that had made her feel worthless all her life – was clearly a lot less optimistic about her chances of success. She ignored it.
‘And I’ll carry on brushing up on my French,’ she added. Laura had studied French at Queen’s University but she hadn’t finished her degree. She’d had glandular fever and a sizeable student loan that needed to be repaid, so in the end she’d got a job at Belfast Central Library and dropped out of her course before the obligatory year abroad. She’d kept up her French over the years, though, and had been studying every spare minute since she’d bought her plane ticket to Lyon.
She found she was looking forward to this trip now. She’d never been adventurous or gregarious. A week’s holiday with some friends was exactly what she needed.
Chapter 6
1 MONTH BEFORE
Sandrine
Sandrine was convinced this would be their last holiday as a family. She intended to make the most of their week here at her parents’ house in Brittany and spend some quality time with her sons. She was surprised the boys had agreed to come this year. For a few summers now, they’d been asking if they could go somewhere else for a change. They’d certainly prefer to go on holiday with their mates from now on rather than with her and Sam anyway. As it was, Maxime had plans to go camping somewhere in Provence for a few days with his friend Benoît when they got back.
It was good to see Antoine smiling again. He seemed to finally be over his break-up with Océane and to have found a sense of purpose in life again. Sandrine had seen him typing on his mobile a couple of times. He’d hastily put his phone away each time she’d caught him, which made her wonder if he had a new girlfriend. But when she asked who he was writing to, he told her it was one of his mates. He hadn’t shown much interest in socializing for a while, so she took that as a good sign.
On their fourth day there, Sandrine and her mother went to Douarnenez, the nearest town to her parents’ house, which Sandrine considered to be her hometown. Their only mission was to buy vegetables at the street market to make a ratatouille for dinner, so they took their time and wandered around the cobbled streets, then sat on the terrasse of a street café and drank citrons pressés – squash made from freshly squeezed lemons. When they got back to the house, it was calm – almost too quiet – without the others.
Sandrine’s father, Sam and the boys had gone fishing for the day. Her father used to spend long afternoons fishing trout from a large pond in his own garden, but it had been replaced by a little fishing boat and a permit years ago. He’d bought his boat when Sandrine’s mother had made him drain the pond to avoid any accidents after an incident involving Maxime.
Sandrine winced as she thought about that day. She’d had the fright of her life. She remembered it clearly despite the sedative she’d been given by her mother’s GP. Sam and her father had been in the front garden, mending the fence. When she’d called everyone for lunch, Maxime hadn’t come. According to Antoine, Max had wanted to feed the ducks. Maxime was only five at the time and he couldn’t swim. Sandrine had raced out the back door and down the grassy slope to the pond.
Sandrine’s father kept repeating that the pond was neither big nor deep. It was both, and Sandrine was aware that a child could drown in just a few centimetres of water, but her father was trying to convince himself and everyone else there was no way Maxime could have drowned.
Sam had always been Sandrine’s rock and she’d clung to him like a limpet. He remained calm even though she could see panic in his eyes. He held her up when her legs threatened to give way. If it had been the other way round, if one of the boys had gone missing on his watch, she wouldn’t have been so forgiving.
Sam had called the emergency services, and Sandrine’s mother had called the doctor for Sandrine. There had been one awful moment when one of the divers from the fire brigade had held up what looked to be a small item of clothing he’d found in the middle of the pond. But it turned out to be an old towel.
It wasn’t until two police officers and the doctor took Sandrine back inside the house that they’d heard it. A thudding. A fist on wood. At first, Sandrine thought there was someone at the front door and immediately assumed it was bad news. But the knocking was coming from along the hallway. Then there were shouts and people came running in from the garden. One of the firefighters used a crowbar to prise open the door to the cupboard in which Sandrine’s mother kept her cleaning stuff. It appeared to have been locked from the inside.
Sandrine couldn’t understand what Maxime had been doing in the cupboard all that time. He’d been missing for over three hours. But he hadn’t seemed at all disturbed by the experience. Much to everyone else’s amusement he said he’d fallen asleep while playing hide-and-seek.
‘That was a great hiding place,’ Sandrine said through tears of relief as she scooped Maxime into her arms. ‘It took a lot of people a long time to find you.’
That caused a ripple of laughter to sweep through the hallway.
But even now, all these years later, Sandrine couldn’t raise a smile as she replayed the incident in her head. Standing in the kitchen next to her mother, prepping the vegetables for the evening meal, she didn’t know if it was the onions or the memory that brought tears to her eyes. It was definitely the memory that put the same sour taste of fear in her mouth, a taste of what it would feel like to lose one of her sons. Distressing. Disturbing. Devastating. It was any mother’s worst nightmare. She fervently hoped she’d never feel sheer terror like that again.
Sandrine didn’t realize she was shaking until she cut the tip of her finger with the knife. It wasn’t a deep cut, and although it stung only slightly, it was enough to dissolve the past and carry Sandrine firmly back to the present.
‘Are you all right?’ her mother asked, reaching for a first aid box in the cupboard above Sandrine’s head.
‘Yes,’ Sandrine said. ‘I wasn’t concentrating.’
She washed away the blood with cold water from the tap. As she was putting on a plaster, her father, Sam, Antoine and Maxime burst noisily into the kitchen with their day’s haul – mainly turbot and sardines. There was a lot of it. Some of it would go in the freezer for now.
Without having to be asked, Antoine washed his hands, put one of the turbots onto a chopping board, wiped it with kitchen towel and expertly filleted the fish with a knife, opening it along the side and then slicing it along the backbone.
Maxime watched his brother work.
‘You could pitch in, you know,’ Antoine said.
‘You’re doing a great job by the look of it. You don’t need me,’ Maxime replied.
‘Well, can you fetch me a beer, then?’
‘Well, just this once,’ Maxime said. ‘You’re the barman.’
Sandrine caught the look Antoine threw his younger brother. ‘What’s this about being a barman?’ she asked.
‘Change of career plan,’ Antoine said.
‘You’re not serious.’
‘No, I’m joking. Relax, Maman.’
‘Are you still working at the supermarket?’ Sandrine knew Béatrice, Antoine’s boss. They’d gone to the same Friday evening Pilates class for a couple of years.
‘Er, no. Not anymore.’
‘Why not?’
When Antoine didn’t answer, Sandrine looked pointedly at Maxime.
‘He got the sack,’ Maxime supplied, sheepishly. He pulled a face at Antoine and mouthed an apology as he handed him a can of lager.
‘You got sacked?’ Sandrine turned to Sam. ‘Did you know about this?’
Sam shook his head and carefully took the knife from her hand. She hadn’t realized she’d been waving it around.
‘Why? What happened?’ Sam asked, his voice much calmer than Sandrine’s. ‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing.’ Antoine lowered his head. ‘It was a mutual decision. I found another job. The supermarket job was just Saturdays. With the bartending, I can do a few evening shifts as well and earn more money.’
‘In a pub? A nightclub? I hope it’s not cash in hand,’ Sam said.
‘No. It’s all above board. In La Voie Lactée – the concert hall in the seventh arrondissement.’
Sandrine didn’t feel reassured and it must have shown on her face because Antoine said, ‘Don’t worry, Maman.’
Was it Sandrine’s imagination or was Antoine being cagey? She sighed. He’d probably turned up late for work a few times too many, in which case she couldn’t blame his boss. She hoped this wouldn’t make things awkward between Béatrice and her. She didn’t want to have to shop elsewhere. She also hoped the new job wouldn’t get in the way of Antoine’s studies after the summer holidays. Bar work would mean late nights. Unless it was just a summer job. But before she could ask, her mother had ushered everyone out of the kitchen and into the sitting room for an aperitif. Sandrine pushed the conversation with Antoine out of her mind.
Later, as they ate their dinner of fish, mashed potatoes and ratatouille, Sandrine looked around the table at everyone’s contented faces and knew they mirrored her own. She wished they could stay longer. The sea air and climate in Brittany would be far kinder than the stifling atmosphere in and around Lyon. An intense heatwave had been predicted for the rest of July and all of August.
The rest of the week went by quickly – too quickly. Sandrine was still reluctant to leave as they loaded their suitcases into the boot of Sam’s car the following day. It would be considerably hotter in Lyon – thirty-eight degrees, according to the forecast – and she was dreading it. Instead of heading home, she felt as though they were driving away from it.
Chapter 7
2 DAYS BEFORE
Laura
‘Where the hell is Claire?’ Sarah asked for the fourth time in five minutes.
They were sitting in the waiting area at Europa Bus Centre, looking out through the dirty windows for their coach. Sarah jabbed at her mobile, then, holding it to her ear, she grimaced at Ava and Laura, muttering, ‘It’s gone to voicemail again. I’ll leave a message this time.’ Into her phone she said, ‘Claire, our bus leaves from stand fourteen in …’ she held her mobile out in front of her, examining the screen ‘… three minutes. You’re not going to make it.’
As Sarah ended the call, their coach pulled into the bay. They stood up and headed for the automatic doors.
‘Damn it! Where is she?’ Sarah said, as she stepped outside, wheeling her suitcase.
Laura followed, suddenly feeling nauseous at the idea of going ahead with the trip without Claire. At the door she faltered, causing Ava to bump into her. Turning to apologize, she saw Ava shiver.
‘It’s like brass monkeys out here,’ Ava said. ‘It’s supposed to be August, for feck’s sake.’
Laura took in the pink T-shirt, short denim skirt and high wedge sandals. She could make out the goose bumps on Ava’s arms and wondered why she didn’t put on the light cardigan tied around her waist.
‘Baltic,’ Sarah agreed. ‘The forecast is for thirty-eight degrees in Lyon today.’
How could they talk about the weather when Claire was about to miss the bus?
‘Sounds lovely,’ Ava said.
‘I think that’s pretty hot,’ Sarah said. ‘As in heatwave-hot. A heatwave here is like nineteen, twenty degrees,’ she continued. ‘I think we’re in for a climate shock.’
Laura had checked the weather in Lyon every day for the last week. She’d never known temperatures anywhere near that high and had been hoping it would get cooler the week they were there. But that wasn’t what the forecast said.
Ava seemed unfazed, though. ‘Bring it on!’ she said.
‘Hiya, girls, what’s the craic?’ came a voice from behind Ava. It was Claire. Laura’s face broke into a relieved smile.
‘Better late than never,’ Sarah muttered under her breath. Laura remembered Claire once remarking that Sarah had a saying for every situation.
‘What are yous talking about?’
‘The weather,’ Ava and Sarah said in unison.
‘As you do,’ Claire said.
The bus driver, a small young man in his thirties, loaded their suitcases into the hold of the coach. Laura caught him admiring Claire’s bare legs when he straightened up again.
