‘I suppose we should get on with this,’ I tell her.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Heidi

Now

I’m back at Aberfoyle Crescent, picking through a house that has been picked through by the police a number of times now. There is dust from where fingerprints have been taken. Things have been placed back on the chest of drawers, or on shelves but just not quite in the right order. Kathleen wanted me to pick up some things for the wake. A framed picture of Joe at the library, one of his silk hankies to place in the pocket of the suit jacket he is to be laid out in. His prayer book, so that she can help Father Brennan choose some of Joe’s favourite readings from the Bible or prayers for the funeral service.

I’ve been looking for the book for twenty minutes now, in all the usual spots, but it can’t be found. I don’t actually recall the last time I saw it, but then it had become such a part of him, I’d almost stopped noticing it at all.

‘I’m really sorry,’ I tell her over the phone. ‘But I haven’t seen it and I’m not sure where else to look. Unless maybe the police put it somewhere?’

‘Why would they do that?’ she asks, an accusing tone in her voice.

‘I don’t know,’ I answer. All I know is that I can’t find it and I don’t want to be here for any longer than I need to be.

I hear Kathleen have a muffled conversation with someone in the background before her voice comes back on the line.

‘Ciara seems to think she saw you with it, but sure, maybe she’s mistaken? These things happen.’

There’s a tone in her voice that lets me know she doesn’t quite believe me.

I have pulled open every drawer in his room and in the living room. Opened every cupboard and wardrobe looking for it. As the clock moves closer and closer to the time Joe’s remains will be brought back to Marie’s house, Kathleen is becoming more frantic. I’m tempted to tell her it’s okay to use whatever prayers she sees fit. It’s not like Joe will be able to hear them anyway.

‘I didn’t see his prayer book,’ I tell her truthfully. I’ve not seen it days, come to think of it. ‘I’m not sure what Ciara saw me with, but it wasn’t that.’

Kathleen sighs. ‘Why is nothing going right?’ she says, and I’m not sure for a moment or two if she expects an answer. ‘Look, I think maybe just get here to Marie’s. Joe’s remains will be back soon and we really do need to give a united front. Things are bad enough as it is.’

Her negativity weighs heavy on my mind as I drive to Marie’s. Not even picking Alex up from work and having him sit beside me can calm my nerves. I notice that I’m gripping the steering wheel tightly. The rhythmic swiping of the windscreen wipers, battling the sleety rain, gives me something to try to concentrate on, to time my breathing with. Neither Alex nor I talk.