Can Anybody Help Me? (32 page)

Claire closed her eyes. Miriam Twohy had thought she was meeting her friends. Instead, she had been lured to her death. Claire didn't know why, and she hadn't time to figure it out right now. She was convinced that LondonMum was in similar danger. She couldn't risk ringing Flynn though, or anyone else in the station. Her visit to the Netmammy HQ had been completely unauthorised and they wouldn't be able to act on the information without, at the very least, an official reinvestigation. She'd have to do something herself.

Yvonne buckled her seat belt and felt the usual stab of guilt as she drove out of the car park. She hated leaving her daughter behind. Which was ridiculous. Róisín loved staying with Hannah. The woman mightn't be the most affectionate mother-in-law in the world, but she doted on her granddaughter and the little girl adored her. She would be fine. They would both be fine. Everyone kept telling her that she needed some time alone; maybe it was time to start listening to them.

She braked and looked back at the apartment block. The three of them stood at the window, Hannah flapping the baby's arm in an imitation of ‘goodbye'. Hannah, Róisín and Bill. Yvonne shivered. It looked like they were the family, standing there, and she merely the visitor. As she watched them, Bill leaned over and blew a raspberry on his niece's cheek. Watching her daughter's body shake with hearty giggles, Yvonne had to fight the impulse to turn off the engine, run back and snatch her from his arms.

But that would be madness. Bill was her friend. Probably the best friend she had in Ireland, she thought to herself as she indicated right and pulled out onto the main road. As always, his presence in the apartment that morning had made everything
so much easier. She had called around as arranged at eleven, a scrap of paper in her pocket listing the times Róisín would need to nap and eat. Hannah, as usual, had addressed all of her comments to the baby, informing her with a wide, fake grin that she was sure her mammy had a big page of instructions for her as if she hadn't ever reared a baby herself. But before either of them could say anything they'd regret later, Bill had bounded into the room, plucked the baby from her car seat and swung her in the air, making her squeal with such delight that it was impossible for the other two adults not to crack a smile.

‘Mam was just saying how it's great you have her in such a good routine, you could set your watch by her, isn't that right, Mam?'

The two women had stared at him, Hannah clearly having said nothing of the sort, but Bill had continued to talk, smiling widely.

‘Sure, you probably have a bit of paper in your pocket with the times she needs feeding and everything, doesn't that make everything very easy for us? Isn't that right, Mam?'

Unable to think of a response, Hannah had simply nodded and silently accepted the offending list. Bill had winked at Yvonne then, behind his mother's back, and suddenly handing over the baby to them felt like a natural thing to do.

God bless him, Yvonne thought. He wanted her to have a good day, and she would have a good day. It wouldn't do her any harm to leave Róisín behind.

Besides, keeping the lunch Adults Only had actually been MyBabba's idea. Yvonne had initially thought that a bit strange; after all it was their babies who had brought them all together
in the first place. But the more she thought about it, the more she could see where her friend was coming from. The whole point of the meeting was to cheer up MammyNo1 – Yvonne still found it impossible to refer to the women by anything other than their Netmammy names – and to give her space and time to talk about what was happening to her. According to her last post, she was currently sharing her mother's spare bedroom with her two children. The last thing she needed was someone else's offspring squawking around the place.

Only problem was, Yvonne couldn't help feeling a bit lost without her baby safety blanket. She glanced into the rear-view mirror and looked at the space where the car seat should be. You always had something to talk about with a baby in your arms, or somewhere to look if conversation faltered. Well, maybe it was time she learned to communicate with adults again.

Following the signs for the N11 she depressed the accelerator, enjoying the feeling as the car picked up speed. She had never really driven outside Dublin. Gerry usually had the car during the week unless she needed it for a special occasion like a hospital appointment or (shudder) baby yoga. And on weekends he tended to take the wheel, that's if they managed to leave the house in the first place. He was technically off on Saturdays and Sundays, but it was a rare day when he didn't have to take a phone call or make a ‘quick trip' into the office to deal with some emergency that couldn't possibly be sorted out in his absence. He was a great man for making plans. But on more than one occasion Yvonne had found herself in the park with Róisín on a Sunday afternoon, smiling vaguely at other mothers and wishing the baby was old enough to amuse
herself on the swings. She had thought she was happy with those solitary outings. But, as the dual carriageway opened up and fresh air was pumped in through the open window, she realised she missed the sense of freedom that went with a long drive.

She leant forward and switched the car radio to a classical station. She listened to Radio 1 mostly, at home. But Yvonne had a vague idea that Róisín needed to be exposed to something other than pop music, so she'd started playing Lyric FM in the car every time they were out together, and now listening to classical music had become a habit.

Home. Funny. She meant London, of course. And that wasn't home, not anymore. Home was Dublin now. She hadn't thought of London like that in months. It was strange, the tricks your mind played on you when you least expected it.

MyBabba's directions had been precise, and easy to follow. Fair play to her, as the Irish said. Yvonne didn't know Wicklow well, but she felt confident today. She smiled as the air from the outside brushed against her face. Confident, and awake. She hadn't felt this awake in ages.

The lights remained green as she drove on past a large hotel, a couple of huge apartment blocks and a hospital, nestling in its own green grounds. She'd really have to get to know more of her adopted city. Her husband was right: she was spending far too much time in her own little comfort zone. Róisín wasn't a newborn anymore; it was time to start living again.

She reduced her speed, came off the main road, turning at the sign for a village whose unpronounceable name began with a K. This stretch of road was almost completely in the shadow of overhanging trees, and she shivered as the sunlight
disappeared. There was something quite eerie about the way the canopy blocked out the sunlight. She slowed even further and then jumped as a car behind beeped and overtook on the inside lane. Sorry. She blinked, and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal. She hadn't been like this when she drove in the UK. Had travelled up and down the country without a care, weaving in and out of traffic, performing the odd manoeuvre and thrilling at the feeling of being at the edge of illegality. Speedy Gonzales, Gerry had called her. And admitted he found her driving a turn-on. But that had been then. She was far more cautious now.

God, she hoped she hadn't misread the directions. Craning her head, she looked at the notes she'd scribbled down on the back of an envelope and then out at the road again. The road was in a dip, houses dotted along the slopes at each side. Houses were watching her and trees were blocking her view.

Houses were watching her. She bit her lip, embarrassed at the thought, then just as she was starting to seriously contemplate turning around and heading for home, the canopy unfurled and she found herself driving through the daylight again. Still on the N11, still heading in the right direction. All was well.

She picked up a bottle of water she'd purchased from the petrol station. Took a sip and then realised she needed to go to the toilet. Nerves. What was she like? You'd think she was on a blind date, or something. Ridiculous. But that's exactly how it felt. She'd even taken extra care over her wardrobe that morning – more care than she'd taken in months. She had spent the best part of an hour making a final decision on her outfit, settling on her best jeans and the flowing blue top from
Primark that covered a multitude of sins. Penneys. Primark, she called it, but it was Penneys over here. And every woman in the country seemed to shop there. It was a national joke. Oh, your jacket is lovely! Penney's, five euro. The automatic response. Even if you'd spent a fortune on it.

She hadn't thought it was possible to gabble internally, but that was exactly what she was doing. Yvonne gripped the steering wheel tightly and slowed the car, ostensibly because the road had narrowed, mostly because she was trying to delay her arrival. What in God's name was she doing here? She should be at home with her baby, arranging the new toy she'd bought her on the bouncy chair and DVR-ing old episodes of
Casualty
so she could watch them during naptime with a cup of tea. That was life; that was reality. This wasn't real, this journey to nowhere on a winding twisty country road. Surely this couldn't be the place? She turned off the engine and pulled out her phone again, checking her Netmammy messages. The Gambolling Lamb. This was it, alright. The place MyBabba had named. But there was no other car. No sign of another, equally nervous woman waiting to lead her to safety.

Safety? Strange, how that was the first word that came into her mind. Yvonne swallowed, aware of how unsettled she was feeling. She'd love to hear a friendly voice now. Suddenly, achingly lonely, she picked up her phone, scrolled down to the Gs and dialled. But her husband's phone went directly to voicemail. She went back into the contacts, found the Ireland 24 office number and pressed ‘call' before she could change her mind. The receptionist, managing to sound both bored and efficient, told her to hold for a moment. But when the
call was finally answered a young woman's voice came on the line.

‘Hello? I was … I was looking for Gerry? Gerry Mulhern?'

Yvonne hated how her voice sounded, weak and tentative. The woman on the other end sounded vibrant in comparison.

‘I'm sorry, he's not here right now. Can I take a message?'

‘Yes. I mean … just tell him his wife called.'

Yvonne was about to hang up when the woman spoke again, her tone warmer this time.

‘Hey – is that Yvonne? I mean sorry, of course it is! It's Mary! How are you?'

‘Oh … fine.'

Although she was alone in the car, Yvonne could feel the blush flowing up from her collarbone. She hadn't spoken to the young researcher since the disastrous night at the television awards, and in fact still couldn't remember how the evening had ended, or when. But the researcher sounded as bubbly and as friendly as she had previously been.

‘He's in a meeting – but let me see if I can grab him, okay? There's nothing wrong, is there? Is the baby okay?'

‘Yeah … yeah, she's fine.'

Yvonne was feeling more foolish by the second. The last thing she wanted was for Gerry to be dragged away from something important, just to speak to her.

‘Look, it doesn't matter …'

But she was speaking to thin air. She heard the thud of a receiver being carelessly put down on a desk and then the light distant buzz of office noise began circulating around it. Mary's voice in the distance, ‘Hey, Gerry! The missus is on the phone!'

She winced. He would not be happy. Stupid of her, to interrupt him like that. Completely unnecessary. Maybe she should hang up …

‘Yvonne? You okay?'

Gerry's voice was tighter than usual, focused. His work voice, she called it when she heard him using it on the phone at home.

‘I'm fine. Honestly, she shouldn't have bothered you …'

‘Hey, it's no trouble.'

The ‘Hey' was cheerful, and Yvonne could feel herself starting to relax.

‘I just wanted to say hi, that's all.'

‘Well, it's lovely to hear from you!'

In the background, a television blared the latest headlines and he had to shout to be heard over the office din. But he didn't sound like he was too busy to talk to her.

‘How did the drop-off go, okay?'

‘Yeah, great. Well, you know your mum …'

She smiled in response to his chuckle.

‘But great. I'm on my way to lunch now. Just … just checking in, really.'

‘That's great. Look …'

His voice dropped, and she could hear him breathing softly.

‘I'm really glad you're getting away, you know. You need a bit of time to yourself.'

‘I know.'

She stared straight ahead, out of the car windscreen, to the car park which only minutes before had looked ugly and intimidating, but now looked quaint, rural, a place of peace.

‘Maybe we can get a night out ourselves in a little while, yeah? Just the two of us.'

‘That sounds fantastic.'

‘Gerry! Gerry, man, I'm sorry to hassle you but we're on a deadline here …'

An unfamiliar voice boomed in the distance, and her husband sighed.

‘Listen, I gotta go, okay? Have a blast, and I'll see you tonight. I'll try not to be too late.'

‘Absolutely.'

She paused.

‘Love you, babe.'

‘Love you too, honey. Bye now.'

The last had been said at a volume the entire office must have heard.

Suddenly giddy, Yvonne wondered if Mary had been within earshot, and hoped she had. Right, time to see where MyBabba had got to. She replaced the phone in her bag, pulled down the sun visor to check her make-up. And started, when the door suddenly opened.

‘Hey! What are you doing here?'

‘I don't want to drink it.'

‘You have to, Yvonne. It'll all be so much easier if you do.'