Gail’s face hardened. She gave an apologetic glance as she made her way upstairs to collect her daughter. Only then did Sinéad notice Anthony waiting in the hallway, a pushchair parked behind him. He was as surprised to see her as she was to see him. She felt the temperature between them drop.
‘Nice to see you again,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘Likewise.’
‘Taylor hasn’t been upstairs the whole night alone, has she?’ he asked when mother and child appeared.
‘Don’t worry, we’ve all been checking up on her,’ Doon interjected.
‘I doubt she’s had much sleep then if you’ve all been waking her up,’ he muttered, and strapped her into the pushchair. ‘That’s a great night we have ahead of us then.’
He glared at a red-faced Gail who gave a half-wave to everyone as Anthony left first. She turned to thank Doon. ‘And I’ll take you up on the offer of help if you’re serious?’ she asked Sinéad.
‘Gail?’ Anthony beckoned, now at the end of the path with his daughter. ‘Will you be joining us?’
She mouthed ‘sorry’ before closing the door.
‘I wouldn’t have put them together either,’ Doon said diplomatically, as if reading her mind. ‘But there’s no accounting for taste, is there?’
Sinéad wanted to ask more but held back. Instead, she placed the wine bottle back inside the fridge. A framed photograph on the wall caught her attention. It was of Doon with a younger woman who shared the same-shaped mouth and steely blue eyes. Sinéad’s heart raced – she instantly recognised her but stopped short of saying as much.
‘Is this your daughter?’ she asked, feigning ignorance.
‘Isla,’ Doon replied, her voice quietening.
Sinéad knew she should change the subject. However, she pressed on, albeit carefully. ‘Does she still live in town?’
‘No, she passed away eight years ago.’
‘How awful. What happened?’ Sinéad picked up on Doon’s hesitation. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘No, it’s okay. She was at university in London studying for her finals when the stress became too much and … she took her own life.’
‘Oh, Doon.’
‘She took an overdose of her depression medication. She’d suffered from it for years, but her dad and I thought it was under control. It’s hard losing a child in any circumstances, but when they want to go before their time … the pain is that little bit sharper. And as a parent, it’s a guilt you have to learn to live with …’ She stopped herself. ‘Sorry, it’s the wine talking. You don’t want to hear all this.’
Sinéad shook her head sympathetically and patted Doon’s arm; she offered a half-smile in return. As Doon made her way back to her other guests, Sinéad held back. She focused on the photograph of the bright, pretty young student again as two reports from the same pathologist came to mind. The first detailed how Isla had died, thesecond was an alternative version of events. It was that one which had been submitted to, and accepted by, the coroner as the truth.
But Sinéad knew why Isla’s brutal murder had been covered up and she couldn’t say a thing.
Chapter 24
EMILIA
Emilia remained in silence for much of the journey from the hospital to the house.
Ted had instigated conversation on several occasions, but more often than not, he was greeted with her reticence to communicate. He’d set his vehicle to autonomous mode and tried to encourage a tense Emilia to relax by holding her hand. It offered little reassurance. En route, he pointed out pubs and restaurants that they’d frequented before her career dominated her every waking moment.
But her mind was elsewhere. As she stared out from the passenger window, she kept her left hand out of sight and held on to the object a stranger had slipped her in the grounds of the hospital.
‘Do not trust your husband,’ the pregnant woman had warned, much to Emilia’s confusion.
‘Who … what … I don’t understand?’ Emilia asked. The woman had a nondescript appearance. Her mousey-brown hair hung in a loose ponytail, she wore little make-up and her protruding stomach backed up her claim that she was far into her pregnancy.
‘It doesn’t matter who I am,’ she’d responded coolly. ‘All you need to know is that Ted means no more to you than I do. I’m not expecting you to believe me at thismoment, but you will. Use this when you’re ready. We’ll be waiting for you.’ She pressed a glossy business card with a phone number embossed upon it into Emilia’s palm.
‘We? Who is “We”?’
