Page 35 of Her Last Walk Home

‘It’s cooked. It’s fine. And there’s nothing left on it now.’

‘Don’t come crying to me if you’re vomiting in the morning.’ She turned on her heel and went back to bed.

He felt like crying all right. Grace had sounded so like his dead mother. He realised how much he missed having that strong west of Ireland matriarch in his life. Then he did cry.

The wind woke Lottie at two in the morning. She shot up in the bed as another smash and crash happened outside.

She noticed she’d forgotten to close the curtains such was her anger with Boyd and his attitude to her family. Had she overreacted? Possibly. She knew what he’d meant, but didn’t want to hear it. Yes, her girls were young adults, but she was their mother and she would care for them as long as they needed her.

Another crash outside.

At the window, she peered into the ebony night. There were no stars or moon now. Wind and rain pelted the glass. Pulling on a hoodie, she made her way down the unlit stairs. In the kitchen, she switched on the outside light and unlocked the back door. She stuck her head outside. A storm was blowing in from the lake, and rain fell in torrents. She peered at the ground, where she found the source of the noise. Broken slates lay onthe concrete path. Hearing a creak from above, she ducked back inside just in time as another slate smashed to earth.

Shit.

She locked the door and made her way upstairs and into Katie’s room, where they’d had the leak over Christmas. Sure enough, she heard the drip of water from the ceiling. Katie was sound asleep, so she didn’t put on the light but waited for her vision to accommodate the light from the landing. Then, in the corner, she noticed the ceiling bulging with water.

Leaning against the wall, she hugged her body, shivering. Maybe Boyd was right. It was time to bite the bullet and find a decent home to live in.

She fetched a bucket from the kitchen and brought it back upstairs. Placing it beneath the drip, she went back to bed. There was nothing she could do at this hour; only hope for the best and pray the worst stayed well away from her home and her family.

31

Shewas still up at 2.30 a.m. when he parked out front and switched off the ignition. The light shining through the gap in the front-room curtains was a warning. He knew what awaited him. He’d failed her, but there was an extra bounce in his step as he let himself in the front door. He could take what she meted out, because in his cold heart he knew he had not failed himself.

‘Well, any luck?’ She was staring over his shoulder as if something or someone was looming behind his back.

‘It’s too soon. Guards are everywhere. Outside pubs and on street corners. Patrolling in squad cars.’

‘That’s all your fault, moron. Why are you so late? Why didn’t you just turn around and come home?’

This was the tricky bit. He could lie to the whores, but he found it difficult to lie to the woman standing in front of him.

‘I wanted to scout around. To see if there was any area of town the cops had forgotten to patrol.’

‘And?’

‘A few places, but nothing good for my mission.’

‘Ourmission, you lug. Ours.’

‘Sure. You’re right. I think I’ll turn in.’

‘That one needs to go soon.’ Her tone was sharp and stopped him leaving the room.

‘I thought she was doing okay.’

‘Okay? Are you blind? She’s a disaster waiting to happen. She has proved impossible to bend to my will. Just when I think I have a breakthrough, she goes and does something stupid.’

‘Maybe you need to give her more time to adjust to her circumstances.’

‘She’s been here long enough.’ She paused. Dangerous, he thought. ‘And what circumstances would you be referring to?’

She continually confused him when she talked like this. Why couldn’t she just say what she meant? Why couldn’t he tell her what he thought? What he felt?

‘I see you have no answer, because you are a stupid, stupid man. God knows what I did in a previous life to be lumbered with the likes of you and?—’

She was cut off by the sound of a muffled shriek from upstairs. She lashed out and clipped him on the ear. ‘I’d need the patience of a saint with you lot. The patience of a saint…’

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