Page 14 of The Altar Girls

‘I heard the news,’ Amy said. ‘I knew you’d be up.’

‘You don’t know how good it is to hear your voice.’

‘I can FaceTime if you want to see me too,’ she said with a laugh.

‘Ah, but I don’t want you to see me. I look like something the cat would drag in.’

‘Busy day so.’

‘What news did you hear?’ He straightened up.

‘Just a breaking story on the news app. The body of a child found behind the cathedral. Not much else.’

‘We haven’t even released a statement yet.’

‘So it’s true then? A child? God, Larry, what’s going on?’

Kirby loved that Amy was the only person who called him by his given name. ‘I really don’t know. I wish I did. Plus we have another little girl missing since early morning. It’s going to be hectic tomorrow.’

‘I’ll let you get off to sleep then.’

‘No, I want to talk. Tell me what exercises they have lined up for you.’

As Amy related the complex physio regime she’d have to undergo over the next few days, Kirby relaxed into the lyrical sound of her voice. And all the evil of the world was kept firmly outside his door. He hoped that was where it would stay.

12

The Atlantic Ocean was louder and rougher than the Mediterranean. The sound was ferocious.

In the mobile home – that was what Mama called their caravan – the snow banked against the windows and the ice refused to melt. He curled up on the narrow cot bed and wondered why Mama had not come back. She’d driven off at first light to get food for them. She usually got enough to last a few weeks. They’d run out of most basic supplies and she’d told him she had to risk it and he wasn’t to leave for any reason. Not that he could leave. He knew she’d locked him in. He’d heard the key turn in the door as she left him there alone.

It must be after midnight and she still hadn’t come back. He was a little bit scared, but not too much. She’d be back soon, he was sure of it. And not for the first time, he wondered why she’d cut off her lovely hair and coloured it black. She’d even stopped wearing make-up, and Mama always wore lots of make-up.

He tried not to think of their life before they’d come to live here. Mama said it was best to make new memories. He tried and tried, but the old memories were much happier.

He curled up tighter against the cold, and wondered if this time she’d buy him some Lego. Maybe even a new book.

TUESDAY

13

Garda Martina Brennan boiled the kettle and poured water over tea bags in two lumpy pottery mugs that looked hand-made. The job of temporary family liaison officer amounted to nothing more than making cups of tea. Not that she was officially assigned as such, but Zara Devine, mother of missing Willow, had said she wanted company last night.

At least she’d got a few hours’ sleep on Zara’s fabric-covered sofa, which was surprisingly comfortable despite the cold room. Even the blanket of crochet squares couldn’t stop her teeth chattering.

She handed one of the mugs to Zara. Still no word on the whereabouts of her eight-year-old daughter. Martina had learned very little the previous evening other than that Zara was thirty-two and made and sold jewellery and more recently pottery.

‘You should drink that, Zara. You need something to warm you up. Where can I switch on the heat?’

‘You can’t. I have to ration the oil and it’s on a timer. It goes on for an hour at night. Can’t even afford that. I’m depending on Christmas orders to tide me over. I started pottery classes a while ago to see if I could increase my income. As you can see, it’s not much of a success.’ She glanced at the mug on the table. ‘And with Willow missing, I can’t even begin to create a thing for the orders I have. Where is she?’

‘We’re doing everything we can to find her.’

‘It’s not enough, is it? What if she ends up like poor Naomi? What then?’ Tears sprouted but didn’t fall.

‘Zara, don’t think like that. We will find her.’

‘Alive?’