Sinead would be closed to them soon—a total collapse looked imminent—so Helen pressed on, wanting to get as much information out of her as she could.
After a long silence, Sinead finally replied:
“It wasn’t easy. She was still so young. None of her mates had kids. She just wanted to party, y’know? Don’t get me wrong. She loved Kenton to bits, but she wasn’t ready for him.”
“So when she went missing, you didn’t report it at first?”
Sinead shook her head and took another long drag on her cigarette. “She’d been finding it tough. Kenton was never a good sleeper and Roisin always hated mornings,” she continued, smiling briefly at the memory of her grumpy daughter. “She tweeted saying she had to get away for a while, so it wasn’t that surprising...”
“But?”
“But it still didn’t feel right. Kenton was here alone in the flat.All night. If she really wanted to get away, I felt sure she would have brought him to me. I would have kicked up a fuss—I’ve got problems of my own—but she knows I would never have turned him away. I would have done what I could.”
Helen didn’t doubt it—Sinead’s love for her grandson shone through—the one bright spot in this whole story. “So you were worried?”
Sinead nodded, then went on:
“But I didn’t want to contact the authorities, didn’t want to get Roisin into any trouble. She didn’t have much and relied on benefits to feed the boy.”
Bryan shifted uneasily in his seat—Sinead’s judgment of him was coming through loud and clear.
“What didyouthink, Bryan?” Helen said, shifting the focus to him. “When you heard Roisin was missing?”
Bryan shrugged—he clearly wanted this to be over as quickly as possible.
“Were you surprised?”
“Guess so.”
“Why?”
“Because... because this was all she had. The flat, the kid.”
“Your son?”
“Sure.”
Helen looked at him. She felt there was more here. That his surliness was more than just awkwardness. “You weren’t living with her when she went missing?”
“Nah, we’d split.”
“How long was this before...?”
“About six months.”
“And where were you living at the time?”
“With friends.”
Helen was starting to get irritated by his determined nonengagement, but she swallowed her frustration and persevered. “Did she ever mention anything to you that subsequently you’ve thought was suspicious? Was she scared of anyone? Was she in trouble?”
“No,” he replied, shrugging.
Helen took this in, then:
“So, when Roisin went missing, who had keys to the flat?” Helen said it lightly, but it was this that interested her most of all.
“I did, of course,” Sinead confirmed.
