Page 231 of The Missing Sister

‘Do you think you could ask her if she remembers the name of the family she worked for?’

‘I will. If I remember rightly, ’twas some foreign couple,’ said Katie. ‘I’ll give her a bell when I’m home tonight.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, as she gave me a smile and walked off. As I stood in reception waiting for Ambrose, I thought about the six sisters’ strange surname, which I’d already worked out was an anagram of ‘Pleiades’.

D’Aplièse...I pulled a pen out of my handbag, asked the receptionist for a piece of paper and wrote the word down.

As Ambrose appeared with Katie, there was a definite spring in his step that hadn’t been there in Dublin.

‘Good day?’ I asked him.

‘Apart from the less than private surroundings, it’s been most pleasant. Thank you, Katie, it’s been a delight to make your acquaintance again, and rest assured, I’ll be back soon,’ he said to her.

‘Can you check with Nora that this wasn’t the name of the family up at Argideen House?’ I said to her, handing her the slip of paper.

‘Of course,’ she said as she tucked it into her uniform pocket. ‘Bye now.’ She gave me a smile and walked off.

‘I don’t know how James copes with living there,’ said Ambrose as I helped him into the car and we drove off. ‘And yet somehow he bears it. I’d rather be with my maker.’

‘I didn’t think you believed in God?’

‘I said “my maker”, dear girl, which could technically be my parents, and therefore, at the very least, my earthly remains will lie with theirs.’

‘You’re splitting hairs, Ambrose.’

‘Maybe so, but... Merry dear, would you be available for a chat once we get back to the hotel? I’ve drunk more tea today than I think I’ve drunk in a week, and I may treat myself to a glass of whiskey.’

‘I’ll go and collect Mary-Kate when she calls,’ said Jack as we parked in front of the hotel. ‘See you later at dinner.’

‘Your children are utterly delightful, by the way. Now then,’ he said, as Jack moved off to find a parking space, ‘how about we sit outside on the café terrace, whilst the sun is gracing us with an appearance?’

Over a pot of tea for me and a whiskey for Ambrose, we sat enjoying the sound of the huge waves breaking on the shore below us.

‘What is it you wanted to talk to me about?’ I asked him.

‘It’s about James, of course. I mean, I know he is in a wheelchair and needs help with his daily ablutions, but I don’t feel he should see his golden years out in that home. So I was thinking...’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, I’m hardly getting any younger, am I? And even though I hate to admit it, I’m beginning to struggle with the stairs down to my bedroom and bathroom. I’ve been thinking for a while that I should sell the flat and move to a modern apartment block with a lift, and everything I need – including a walk-in shower – all on one floor. Let me tell you, there are plenty of those types of places available in Dublin these days.’

‘I see. And?’

‘You can imagine that selling the home I’ve lived in for so very long will be something of a trauma. But seeing James’s current situation has given me the spur I needed. So when I get back to Dublin, I intend to put my little half of a house on the market and buy something more sensible with three bedrooms. One for myself, one for a live-in carer and, well, one for James.’

‘Goodness!’

‘What do you think, Mary dear?’

‘I think it’s a wonderful idea in theory, Ambrose. However, it would be a huge wrench for Father O’Brien. He’s lived down here for most of his adult life, and even if his living circumstances are not quite what they should be, he has many of his old parishioners popping in to see him.’

‘Parishioners who he’s seen every day for the past sixty odd years. He might be glad of a change.’

‘Have you actually asked him?’

‘I have, yes, as a matter of fact. Or, putting it another way, I’ve hinted at the idea to him. My plan is that I make the move, and then have James up to visit me when I have found a carer who can live in with us. And perhaps—’

‘He will never want to return to West Cork,’ I finished for him.