“And you had never met before?”
“No.”
“So why did you swap rooms?”
I open my mouth to explain but Derek materializes in front of me. “She a suspect?”
“Excuse me?” The guard looks pretty peed off at the interruption.
“Miss Hughes here, she a suspect?”
“These are routine questions, sir.”
“I don’t mind. . .” I start, but Derek, to my immense surprise, cuts me off.
“Don’t say anything else,” he warns me, before turning back to the officer. “She ain’t answering nothing without a lawyer present, all right?”
The officer flushes “They’re really just routine, sir.” He squirms a little and I realize Derek is right. I’m a suspect.
“Routine my eye,” says Derek. “You wanna question her, then take her down the station and give her a lawyer. Otherwise, leave her be. Poor girl’s had a massive shock and she’s a minor, too.” The officer consults his notes and frowns. “That not in your notes? She’s sixteen and I’min loco parentisfor the present moment. Everything goes through me, right? No need to worry her parents with this yet.” He puffs his chest out. “You’ll need my permission to question her any further.”
I think my eyes are in danger of falling out of my head.
“Is this true?” The guard directs the question at me, though I can tell Derek’s rattled him. I nod, not really understanding half of what’s just been said. Derek, the dark horse. “Fine,” says the officer. “We’ll be in touch.”
He marches out of the foyer and I gawp at Derek. He winks at me.
“Close your mouth and drink your tea, Irish, or you’ll be catching flies.”
“Mammy, I’m fine, honestly.” I hold the payphone slightly away from my ear and gaze dully out of the dirt-streaked window as she rants about the dangers of the Big City and threatens to get on the next flight over. Derek had done his best to be reassuring, he didn’t tell her too much, especially about me finding Sara, but he underestimated the neurosis of the average Irish mammy.
“Niamh, I want you home. One night away and someone has died. Been killed, no less. Holy Mother of God, we’re lucky it wasn’t you, girl.”
“I know,” I mutter. I’ve been trying not to think about it. “But I want to stay. If anything, it’s safer, now. They’ve moved us to a different halls. There’s a guard on patrol, like.”
“No way, absolutely not. . .” I hold the phone away again and study the graffiti that decorates the phone booth. It stinks in here. How did people use these before mobiles? They’re claustrophobic and disgusting. But the charge on my phone didn’t last two minutes this morning. I push the door ajar with my foot and search for my hand sanitizer with my free hand.
“Mammy,” I interrupt as the phone beeps a warning, “my money’s about to go. I’m staying. I’ve worked too hard to give up before I even start.”
“Niamh. . .”
“Please?”
She huffs down the phone and I know I’ve won, for now.
“Fine, but I’m telling you now, girl, if it wasn’t for Granny H being ill again. . .”
“I know. How is she?”
She sighs. “Much the same. She didn’t recognize your daddy the other day.”
“Oh, mammy. I miss her.”
“I’m sorry, love. I know you do. Listen, now. You will get your mobile fixed immediately and ring home every day. I’ll get your daddy to transfer the money for repairs right now, OK?”
“OK.”
“I mean it. Every single day, Niamh Marie. And get in touch with your sister once and a while, would you? She’s driving us all crazy, climbing the walls without you. Promise?”
