Page 88 of The Secret We Keep
My cheeks pull, but not in humour. “She’s going to need it, isn’t she?”
Mum inclines her head. “You’re a good man, Paddy O’Keefe.”
Hearing my name like that, I can’t hold back my smile.
“What is it now?” she asks, seeing me thinking.
“Nothing, Mum,” I tell her, wanting to figure out the right thing to do.
It’s not awkward, but a silence descends in the kitchen as we each take a swig of our drinks.
“So will you ever tell me why you were drinking the whisky?”
I gape at her. “Did you not listen to what I was just talking about?”
“You eejit,” she says, her thick, north Dublin accent packing a punch as strong as her hand. “You already got your flat sorted and spoke to Tom. That’s not what’s keeping you awake.”
Fuck my fucking life with this place. “Jesus.” I stand and take my mug from the table, dropping it into the sink. Both of my palms rest against the counter. “If you must know, it’s Morgan.”
“I thought it might be, son.” She mirrors my movements, coming to stand beside me but leaning her back against the counter. She wraps her gown, which has loosened, around her. “Anything I can help with?”
I wish there was. I really do.
“Not this time. No.”
Giving my back a rub, she sighs before she pushes away from the counter. “Good. I don’t think I can handle any more tonight. But ifyou need anything from me, you know I’m always here for you. And your father is.”
Her words flow gently over the cracks in me. “I know.”
She nods before walking to the door, taking herself up to bed.
Images of Morgan not being able to talk to her father, and knowing how isolating that must be for her, hit me hard.
And before I can stop myself, I whip around to face her, knowing if I don’t say it now, I never will. “Morgan’s sick,” I blurt out. “I don’t know what to do.”
Mum’s eyes flick back and forth, searching for answers. “What do you mean, sick?” She glares at me with worry in her eyes.
I shake my head. “I don’t know how to explain it. But I have to help her. I have to find a clinic. A doctor. Someone or something that can help.” My throat cracks.
Mum’s in front of me in a heartbeat. Assessing me, she seems oddly calm when I can feel myself beginning to sweat. “If there’s one person in Stoney Grange that girl has needed in the past three years more than anyone, it’s you, son.”
“You think so?”
“Iknowso,” she counters confidently. “I know you’ll find a way to help. You always do.”
After six, this place is a dogging hotspot
Morgan
WhenIstepoutof work, I’m surprised to see the familiar white BMW parked up outside the building. I know we said we’d see each other tomorrow, but this is not what I had in mind.
I slowly pace towards it, having seen Paddy lift a hand off the wheel to get my attention. The windows aren’t tinted, so I can see he’s wearing one of his hoodies and shades, appearing much older than twenty-four.
Approaching the car, I cautiously duck towards the passenger window.
Paddy lowers it for me, leaning his elbow on his side of the car. “Curly fries,” he says, grinning.
“What are you doing?”
