Page 116 of The Missing Sister
The bill paid, the two of us left the hotel.
‘Did you bring a bag with you?’ I asked my son as we walked round the corner towards Merrion Square.
‘Yes, it’s stored with the porter for now and they have a room for me, but I just wanted to make sure you were actually here before I checked in. This man who you think is after you, was he part of some kind of extremist group?’
‘Not when I first knew him, but he was definitely involved towards the end. Jack, I swear, I’m not exaggerating. I know the organisation he was with had a network. He said he was quite high up, so one order from him and things... well, they happened. Now,’ I said as I paused outside Ambrose’s building, ‘remember, my godfather is very old, but don’t let that fool you into thinking he’s lost one ounce of his enormous brain. Ambrose was, and still is, the cleverest man I know.’
‘Well,’ Jack said as he looked up at the tall, elegant redbricked building with its old-fashioned square-paned windows, ‘he must be very rich to own one of these on such a beautiful garden square.’
‘He only owns the ground and basement apartment, but you’re right. Even that would sell for a lot these days. He bought it a long time ago. And Jack...?’
‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Jack shrugged affably, ‘I’ll remember my manners.’
‘I know you will, love. Right, let’s go inside, shall we?’
I unlocked the door and stood in the entrance hall, with its original black and white patterned tiles.
‘Ambrose? It’s Mary here,’ I announced as I opened the interior door that led into the sitting room.
‘Good evening,’ he said, already standing up from his favourite chair to greet me. I watched his eyes sweep over Jack, who was in his usual casual attire of shorts, T-shirt and not-so-white trainers.
‘And who might this be?’ said Ambrose.
‘Jack McDougal, Merry’s son.’ He held out his hand. ‘How d’you do?’ he said and I could have kissed him for using such a formal expression, which I knew would endear him to Ambrose.
‘I do very well, thank you, young man. Well, as there are three of us, I suggest you two sit down on the sofa. Mary, you didn’t tell me your son was with you.’
‘He wasn’t when I saw you earlier, but he turned up in search of me.’
‘I see. Now,’ he said, ‘would anyone like a drink? I’m afraid I have little to offer but the two staples of my life: whiskey and water.’ Ambrose looked at the clock on the mantelpiece over the fireplace. ‘It’s almost five o’clock, therefore I’ll take a whiskey. Your mother knows where the bottle and glasses are kept,’ he added as Jack rose.
‘I’ll take some water for now, Jack, thank you,’ I added. ‘The kitchen is at the end of the corridor, and tap is fine.’
Jack nodded and left the room as I went to retrieve the whiskey bottle and a glass.
‘A fine young man, who looks very like his mama,’ Ambrose said. ‘And not a bad bone in his body, I’d wager.’
‘There really isn’t, Ambrose, though he’s not so young anymore. I worry that he’ll get set in his ways as a bachelor and never settle down.’
‘Would any woman ever be good enough for him? Or more accurately, for his mother?’ Ambrose gave me a raise of an eyebrow as I handed him his whiskey.
‘Probably not. He’s so completely without guile,’ I sighed. ‘He’s had his heart broken a few times because of it.’
‘I must ask you before he returns: are you happy for us to talk openly in front of him?’
‘I have to be, Ambrose. I told him what I think has been happening recently and it’s all because of the past. It’s time there were no more secrets. I’ve lived with them for too long.’
Jack returned with two glasses of water, handed one to me and sat down.
‘Sláinte!’Ambrose raised his glass. ‘That’s “cheers” in Gaelic,’ he added for Jack’s benefit.
‘Sláinte!’ Jack and I toasted back.
‘Are you Irish yourself, sir?’ Jack asked.
‘Please, call me Ambrose. And indeed, I am Irish. In fact, if I was a stick of traditional seaside rock, it would read “Made in Ireland” down the centre of it.’
‘You don’t have an Irish accent, though. And nor does Mum.’
