Page 81 of Hidden Daughters

‘I don’t think so. But he was in Knockraw back in the day. He also got his girlfriend of the time pregnant. He believes she ended up in the laundry. His sister did too. He asked me to see if I could find them.’ That wasn’t strictly true. Bryan had only asked her to see if his girlfriend and the baby had survived and could be found.

‘Any luck with that?’

‘Not a bit.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Bryan O’Shaughnessy. He’s a sheep farmer out in Connemara.’ Lottie turned from the sink to see Brigid bless herself again. ‘Are you okay?’

‘May the Lord grant you strength.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘The mission this O’Shaughnessy man has given you. It will be like searching through a den of iniquity.’

Lottie sat in Bryan’s Range Rover for a good five minutes mulling over Brigid’s words before she could bring herself to turn on the engine. Did she know more than she’d revealed? Would she be the type of woman to help a man who had been a priest? Not by the way she’d spoken of him, but then again, the power of the Catholic religion ran deep, especially in the older members of the community. Lottie sensed that no matter howBrigid had been harmed by those in religious orders, she would not turn away a man of God.

She’d tell Mooney what the woman had said, then she needed to concentrate on the task Bryan had set her. To discover what had happened to Mary Elizabeth and the child she’d been carrying.

The records from the laundry were a good starting point, but it would be impossible to get her hands on them, even if they still existed. She had a feeling Imelda Conroy would have sourced them. So where were all Imelda’s documents and recordings that she’d have used for her documentary? Nothing had been found in the holiday cottage as far as she knew. Had the person who’d killed Assumpta taken them, or had Imelda hidden them somewhere? And why was Assumpta in the cottage and not Imelda? Did Imelda kill her?

Then she realised that she’d never asked Brigid if she remembered a man being burned or scalded at the convent. Shit. She didn’t fancy further disturbing the woman today. She’d call in again tomorrow.

A curtain twitched in the large bay window.

A soft mist started to fall. The windscreen clouded over and the parish house, shaded by the leafy trees, faded into the background as the curtain fell back in place.

51

By the time Lottie had navigated her way through the miserable misty rain over bog roads and arrived back at the house, Bryan was home.

‘Mooney let you go, then?’ She joined him in the living room with Boyd. No sign of Grace. ‘Did he have any evidence at all? He arrested you, so there must have been something…’ Her voice trailed off. Wait for him to talk, she told herself. He will tell you in his own time.

Bryan stoked the fire in the open grate and sparks flew out onto the wooden floor. He stamped them down with more force than was needed. Did they even need to have a fire lit? It wasn’t her house. Not her call.

‘He showed me some DNA results. Said they needed further analysis because of…’ He laid down the poker and fell back into the well-worn leather armchair. ‘What’s the word?’

‘An anomaly?’

‘Could be that.’

He appeared to have aged in the few days since Lottie had arrived. The strain of being hauled in by Mooney? Or was it because of something he’d done? She didn’t know what to think.

‘Can you tell me about it?’ she asked.

‘It will probably be talked about as far away as Clifden by now, so you might as well know. Sit down.’

She took up a space beside Boyd on the couch. He sat ramrod straight and she figured he already knew what was about to be revealed to her. Bryan lit a cigarette. She hadn’t seen him smoke before now and wondered if Grace knew about it. Probably not, or he wouldn’t be blowing the smoke up the chimney in his own house.

‘Mooney tried to tell me that this Imelda Conroy is related to me.’

‘What?’ Lottie hadn’t expected that. ‘Related how?’

‘He wouldn’t clarify. Said the lab needs to do more of whatever it is they do with DNA. Anyhow, he said it could be brother and sister, or father and daughter. I can’t believe I actually might have spoken with my daughter.’

‘Oh.’ She sat back, a flurry of dust motes flying into the air. She wondered if Grace ever came into this room. It was probably Bryan’s domain, otherwise she would have it sparkling clean like the rest of the house. Why these idle thoughts? Deflecting from the DNA bombshell?

‘Bryan,’ she said, ‘did you know Imelda Conroy?’

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