He appears to think it over, his round, pink head wobbling from one side to the other, then he smiles. It’s an empty smile.
“I’ll be there presently.”
“Alma Ryan, Father. Do you know the house? I must go to work or I’d take you.”
“Alma Ryan. Aye. Aye, I know the house.”
He pauses, paying attention to me for the first time, and I know what he’s looking for. I dig in my purse then drop coins in his palm.
“I’ll see to her soon, then, Roisin Ryan. Off you go.”
The whole way to work, I fight tears. I cannot accept that Granny is preparing to die, and the very thought of it happening rips my heart to shreds. I cannot be certain if Father William will even go to her, which makes me sick to my stomach. But I do not want swollen, red eyes when I show up late for work, so I do my best to be calm.
I go to the chambermaid room to change. No one else is in here, because they are all working. As I am buttoning my uniform, Mrs. Evans walks in.
“I am not accustomed to you being tardy, Miss Ryan.”
Ah well. Bianca has forgotten to tell her. Thanks for nothing, old friend.
“No, ma’am. I’m very sorry.”
She leans in, inspecting my face. I’m certain it is blotchy despite my attempts not to cry. My head is pounding, and I cannot breathe through my nose.
“You’ve been crying. Is it your granny?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Are you all right to work?”
“Yes, please, Mrs. Evans. She told me I must.”
All day, I keep my head down and work hard, trying not to think of Granny. At half five, I go to Mr. Carboni’s suite for a second cleaning, since he asked for that again. I’m weak with relief when I see he is not there. I clean every inch of that room as quickly as I can, then I pack up and head to the door.
It swings open just as I’m reaching for the knob.
“Rosie Ryan.”
For the love of God. “Good evening, Mr. Carboni. I’ve just finished. I’ll get out of your way, if you don’t mind.” I need to squeeze past him, but he takes up the whole doorway.
“I saw your friend, Miss Fiore, earlier. She said you were at home, tending your sicknonna.”
I see. Bianca is all right telling Mr. Carboni about Granny, but not telling Mrs. Evans? What nerve she has. I am starting to question our friendship.
“Yes, sir, but she was well enough that she told me to go to work,” I say, managing a tiny smile.
Mr. Carboni reaches inside his shirt pocket and pulls out his billfold. He peers inside, then picks out a piece of paper. Well, you know what now, it’s not regular paper he’s handing to me. It’s money. In the middle of the bill that he holds out, it saysTEN DOLLARS.
“Allow me to help with her medical expenses.”
“Holy God above! I’m fair sure my eyes are bugging out. Oh, sir. Thank you, but no! I couldn’t take that. ’Twouldn’t be right.”
“I insist. Think of it as a tip, if that sits better. A really nice tip.”
I don’t know what to do. Clearly this is not permitted, and if I take his money, what will he want in return?
In the back of my mind there is another, much darker thought. It’s too late. Even with his money, there’s not much any doctor could do for Granny now.
“It’s far too much. I’d not sleep a wink—”
