I recognise one of the ladies from the Spar store down the street. She glances up but doesn’t acknowledge me.
Maybe if I sit at a table next to them, take out my phone and just eavesdrop, I’ll overhear something of interest, or they might ask me to join them. With determination in my blood, I head for the door. There are two tall people entering in front of me. They push open the door and walk to the counter. They don’t belong here. I can tell by their stern faces and suited clothing. When I glance through the window again, I see the three women looking ominously at each other, nudging one another when they see who is walking in. They must be the detectives.
My courage evaporates, replaced by a sickening feeling. That poor girl. They’re here for one reason only: to find out who killed Vicky Murphy. They’re not the regular police. The village only has the one detective, Fintan Ryan, a friend of Conor’s. He’s been to the house once or twice, nice guy, married with two kids. I wonder what Fintan Ryan would think if he knew about the card I received.
Having decided against going into the coffee shop while the detectives are in there, I walk on down the road and arrive at the main Spar store. It’s the closest thing to city life in this place. The shop is modern, open two years, according to Conor. He said it replaced Murphy’s grocery store which had served the community for over sixty years. Grabbing a basket, I decide to saunter around. Hopefully I’ll bump into someone I know.
Six tomatoes and a head of lettuce in, I see Ciara… I can’t remember her surname, and decide I have bait for my fish.
‘Ciara!’ I call out, waving as I walk over to where she’s standing reading the ingredients on the back of a packet of sauce mix. ‘Thank you so much for the card. Conor and I really appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome. Congratulations. How’s the baby doing?’ She puts the packet back on the shelf.
‘He’s great, really good: sleeps, eats, does what babies do.’ I think about his continuous crying for hours this morning but I’m not going to rat him out on his first tantrum.
‘That’s great and you look wonderful yourself.’ Ciara casts her eye up and down my body as if inspecting it.
‘Oh, bit of a way to go.’ I say, holding my belly.
‘No, you look great.’
I’m mindful that I’m looking for information. The compliments are very welcome but they’re not getting me anywhere. In the distance I see the older lady who lives in the house further down the road from us. She doesn’t see me.
‘I just saw two detectives going into the coffee shop, have you heard anything yet?’ I hear my words and realise I did that with the grace of a rhino. I need to be more discreet, slip it into the conversation or I’ll just sound nosy. Thankfully Ciara is nosy too. She shuffles closer to me.
‘Not much, they haven’t got a suspect yet, but I did hear there was blood everywhere. No sign of sexual assault, thank God.’ Ciara blesses herself when she mentions God. ‘And nothing was taken from the pub. Detective Ryan said she was lying there for hours before she was found, poor thing.’
I’m listening intently, my mouth half open, when Ciara looks at her watch. ‘Got to go, the mother-in-law,’ she says, flashing her eyes upwards before moving on towards the checkout. I continue down the aisle. When I get to the butcher’s counter, I decide to buy some sausages and rashers. Maggie will go on about the fat content, but I think I deserve a treat. Behind the rows of meat, Mick the butcher stands with his hands resting on the counter.
‘Can’t make your mind up, hah? Don’t know whether ye want the cow or the pig, hah?’
I smile back at him. ‘I’ll take the pig.’
‘What’ll it be, so?’
* * *
When I have everything in the bag, I leave the shop. I stand outside for a minute and look up the street at the setting. A row of small businesses, each with their own unique fronting, line each side of the road. How could someone have committed such a terrible crime here? And why? If there was no sign of sexual assault and nothing was taken, it wasn’t a burglary. Someone must have been trying to shut her up. But why? What did Vicky Murphy know?
In the city, murders happen so often people are used to them. They’re shocked for a minute before turning on Netflix. But it’s different here. Everyone knew Vicky, she was one of their own. It’s like the village itself was targeted. The death of Vicky will be remembered here for years to come. She was well liked. Other than that, and the fact that she was a barmaid, I don’t know much more about her.
Happy to have some news for Amanda, I stroll back to the car. Amanda’s reaction had puzzled me a bit. I didn’t expect her to be so concerned, so adamant I pursue the culprit behind Conor’s back. I hope she doesn’t think Conor is the murderer. Or that I’m in danger. Whichever it is, I’m glad to have her by my side.
I pass by Georgina’s Hair Salon. I’ve never actually had my hair done here before. Up until a few weeks before Shay arrived, I had made the trip to Dublin to The Hair Shop in the arcade where I always got my hair done. I’ll have to stop that. I need to start trusting and supporting the locals more if I want to fit in. I could buy the odd piece to wear in Harriet’s Closet. Allow Bernie the beautician to remove my excess hair. But first, I’ll make an appointment in Georgina’s. Something I can easily undo if needs be.
Pushing on the gleaming pink handle, I enter the premises. A woman in her fifties beckons me over to where she is sitting behind a large glass table. It’s pretty chic in here. The spotless mirror on the wall opposite tells me I’m doing the right thing. My hair is a mess.
‘Laura, isn’t it?’
‘Yes… yes…’ I’m a bit taken aback that she knows who I am but I had probably been pointed out to everyone and anyone when I first arrived. There she is… his new girlfriend… her name is Laura.
‘I’d like to make an appointment to have my hair blow-dried. Sorry, I don’t know your name.’
‘Georgina. I’m the owner of this establishment.’ Her exaggerated smile is accompanied by a nod of the head.
‘Hi Georgina, pleased to meet you.’ I put my hand out to shake hers but she’s pulling out a book from under the counter and hasn’t seen it.
‘So you decided to give us a shot.’
I’m slightly confused by this comment – is she pleased or being sarcastic? I don’t know what to say, so I just nod. Lifting her face from the book she asks me when I was thinking of having it done. She tells me she has an appointment at ten thirty tomorrow morning. I take it, hoping that, come ten thirty in the morning, Shay won’t be screaming for his mammy.
Thanking her, I head for the door only to hear her call after me.
‘And don’t worry love, we’re fully qualified.’
Why did she say that? Making out I think I’m some big shot from the city who wouldn’t be bothered with their little salon. The cheek of her! I’ve a good mind not to show up in the morning. But that would only give her more reason to dislike me. No, I’ll go, build bridges. If people around here think the city girl believes she’s too good for the place, I need to let them see that’s not the case. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. The truth is, I feel lucky to be here at all, to be getting a second chance.