Page 162 of Hidden Daughters

With Boyd and Sergio on one side and Bryan on the other, Grace sailed past Lottie, her head held high in the air.

She could not bring herself to go into the chapel. Instead, she sat on the little wall that surrounded the old building, wishing she’d stayed in bed and kept her head under the duvet.

Another car crawled up the narrow road. She saw Kirby’s bushy hair before she saw him. He always made her smile.

He helped Amy out of the car. She gave Lottie a hug. Kirby beamed beside her.

‘Nice to see you, boss,’ he said. ‘Are we late?’

‘They’ve just arrived.’ She pointed to the old wooden door in the thick stone wall.

‘And you’re not going in?’

‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘In a while. Maybe.’

‘You look sad,’ Amy said.

‘Don’t mind me.’ Lottie attempted a laugh, but failed. ‘Things are a bit shite at the moment.’

‘Hey, we’ve got news that will cheer you up,’ Kirby said.

‘McKeown is leaving?’ she said hopefully.

‘No, but we’re engaged, and we are pregnant! Me and Amy. Well, Amy is, I’m not…’

Lottie hugged him, then Amy. ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard in ages. Congratulations to you both. I’m thrilled.’

‘Thanks, boss. Come on, Amy. We’d better hurry.’

As the glowing pair went inside, leaving her alone again, Lottie felt her heart swell with happiness for them. It was good to see love and joy come to two people who absolutely deserved it. Things didn’t always work out that way, so when they did, it was extra special. Then a crest of loneliness settled on her shoulders. Did she not deserve some happiness in her life?

‘Penny for them.’ The voice came from behind her. She’d been deep in thought and hadn’t heard the car approach.

‘Matt.’ She stood. ‘What brings you here?’

‘I have another guest for the wedding party, but she’s a bit shy. Could you talk to her?’

‘I’m not sure I’m the best person to talk to anyone today.’ A cool breeze swept around the side of the church, fluttering the leaves in the trees, swirling Lottie’s dress around her legs, and she clutched her arms tighter to her body.

The young woman approached, head low, arms also hugging herself. She was dressed in a flowered cross-over cotton dress with flat leather sandals. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and it shone in the morning sun.

‘Imelda,’ Lottie said, unwinding her own arms.

‘I’m so sorry for all the sorrow I’ve caused. If I’d never started my documentary, those people would still be alive.’

‘You can’t blame yourself.’

‘But it was a catalyst for all that happened.’

‘Maybe so, but the only one to blame is Denis Wilson – his past, his ego and the evil in his heart.’

‘Maybe.’

‘That’s what I told you,’ Mooney said. ‘You are still a vital witness for us.’

‘Any confession forthcoming from Wilson?’ Lottie enquired.

‘One interview in and I’m delighted to say he is beginning to panic. The jewellery belonging to Edie Butler in the boot of his car and forensic evidence at his house and the other crime scenes will all help to convict him. Plus, Robert Hayes is singing like the proverbial canary. His testimony corroborates Assumpta’s words written in her notebooks.’

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