Page 113 of The Secret We Keep
“We are. My problem isn’t with you, Siobhan,” Pete claims. “I pulled up and saw Morgan in need of help.”
“In need ofhelp?” Mum counters questioningly. “From who, Pete?”
He points a finger at me. “From your son.”
“Myson?” She squares her body towards his. Jesus Christ. “Are you telling me you think my son would hurt that poor girl?”
Pete doesn’t say anything, clearly not liking the challenge in Mum’s eyes.
“Because I might not know a lot of things in this life, but I know without a shred of doubt that mysonwould never intentionally hurt Morgan, or anyone for that matter.”
Pete grinds his teeth together, hands landing on his hips. “He said or did something that upset her.”
Mum’s lips part ready to jump to my defence, but I rest a hand on her shoulder. “Let him take her home.”
“What?” she fires at me. “But you’ve only ever looked out for her, Paddy.”
“I know, Mum.” Fuck do I know. “But we have to respect her wishes. If she feels safer going home with them, we need to let her.”
I watch Mum look at the back seat of what is presumably Christine’s car.
Morgan’s watching us talk about her like she isn’t even here.
Mum sucks in a sharp breath of air, her eyes filling with tears. “Paddy?”
Yeah, I know. It fucking sucks.
Pulling Mum closer to me, I train my eyes on Morgan. I know she’ll hear me even though the window’s closed. “Shall I text you later?”
Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.
She eventually nods, giving me what I need as Christine gets into the driver’s seat.
“Will you grab Pete his keys, Mum? I’ll go find Pops.”
Flustered and still visibly shaking, Mum nods her head, pulling out from under my hold. “This way,” she says to him, sniffing as she wipes under her eye sharply.
Making it up to the top end of the yard, Pops is waiting for me by the main gate.
“You alright? Enjoy your nap?” I ask, wondering what he needs my help with.
“I’m grand, son. Got a recovery coming in. Open this gate for me will ya’, lad?”
Pursing my lips, I wonder how this man survives. “Certainly,” I mutter under my breath, wondering why he couldn’t do it himself.
“There’s a delivery here for you.”
“Delivery?” I push the gate open before making my way over.
“Delivery chap didn’t want to leave it. Had me sign for it.”
Feeling the weight of it as he hands it to me, I know what it is. “Finally.” I let out a breath, looking at my old man. “I need to take this up to the house before I come back down. Do you mind?”
He shakes his head, eyeing the package in my hands. “Not at all. What is it?”
Reading the sender’s address on the box, I turn, adjusting my grip on the thing. “It’s too little, too late,” I imagine.
“You what?” he asks, straining to hear me.
