‘Every time you feel this velvet ribbon against your skin, it is my touch, and I am there with you.’ Tears ran down her face. Lavinia Marcus, evil woman that she was, had stolen her velvet ribbon, had taken from her the most precious gift Nicholas had given her. As she lay there, bound and gagged, her heart filled with a hate and rage that threatened to choke her, a hate stronger than that which she felt for her kidnapper. She no longer cared if she died. What did it matter? She had nothing left, not even the one thing that most reminded her of him, her velvet ribbon.

She heard a noise and turned her head. Here was another smell too, the smell of something dead, of rotting flesh, of fear. She couldn’t see her kidnapper, but she could hear his voice.

‘You awake now, are you?’ the man said.

She blinked, tried to move her tongue, to make her mouth work, but nothing happened.

‘I can tell you are – I’ve done this before,’ the man said. ‘I’m your granddaddy.’ There was a yelp of pain and then silence.

Eventually her voice obeyed her. She managed to push the tape away from her top lip, using her tongue and stretching her mouth, and she croaked in a thick rasp, ‘Hello? Hello? Who is there, please? Who is it? What do you want me for?’

She began to weep as her emotions pushed through the barrier of fear. Her granddaddy was Seamus. That man was not Seamus.

She stopped breathing as she heard the sound of the waves beating against the rocks and the screech of the birds overhead. She knew those sounds; she was close to home, she had to be. ‘Hello,’ she croaked again. But there was no reply, only the stench of putrid flesh.

Chapter 19

Michael arrived at Bee’s and found her and Bridget boiling herbs on the stove. ‘Is Mary Kate with you?’ he shouted from the doorway.

Bee dried her hands on a tea towel and walked towards him. ‘No. Is she not with you?’

Michael looked confused. ‘Not at all. The arrangement was for me to pick her up first and then collect Cat and Mrs O’Keefe before taking them all to Ellen Carey’s for a visit.’

‘I went for her earlier to see if she wanted to have her breakfast with us, but the cottage door was already open and she was gone. I thought she must be with you.’

Michael took off his cap and rubbed his head. ‘Well, there is only one place she could be. She must have taken herself off up the hill to Mammy’s. She probably decided to have breakfast with the ladies.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘You know, don’t you, that thanks to Dana Brogan, everyone in the entire village thinks she was married in Liverpool and has come home a widow.’

Bee hadn’t known that, but it didn’t surprise her. Stories took on a life of their own in Tarabeg, they were all aware of that.