Chapter 4
It sounded like a banshee had taken root in the rafters, such was the noise of the wind howling through the roof of Farranstown House.
The windowpanes shook in their frames and threatened to smash into smithereens.
Lottie hoped the wind wouldn’t wake her mother.
It had taken Rose hours to settle, and trying to get her to sleep was such an ordeal.
Louis, Lottie’s four-year-old grandson, was snuggled against her back, his little arm around hers as she lay on her side.
Her daughter Katie, Louis’ mam, had been out last night.
Again. And in a storm. There was no reining the girl in.
At twenty-four years old, you’d think she’d have more sense.
But no, Katie had drifted off the rails once her sister had headed for Garda training college.
That had been the proverbial straw that broke Lottie’s relationship with Boyd.
Chloe had privately discussed her dream to become a guard with him, and he had helped her while keeping Lottie in the dark.
How could she forgive that? Still, she was lonely. She missed him.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside cabinet. She reached for it, glancing at the time before answering in a whisper.
‘Sorry, boss, I know, but we need you to come in. Something terrible has happened.’
‘Can’t you handle it? I’m bringing my grandson to the swimming pool today.’
‘I honestly think you’ll have to cancel those plans.’
‘Tell me what’s going on.’
She listened intently. When she hung up, she shuddered. It felt like a demon spirit had slipped under her skin.
Sergio had football training after school and Boyd had forgotten to wash his son’s kit over the weekend.
That was why early on Monday morning he was leaning over the dryer, watching the green and white go round and round.
He’d ignored the many calls and texts on his phone.
There was no way he could face work today.
No matter what was going on there. He was taking time out for himself. Time out for his son.
His heart was a little bit broken, but he stood by everything he’d said to Lottie. She did not have her priorities right. That was the way she was wired. He was unable to slot into her world on her terms, so he’d walked. And it hurt. Deeply.
The machine beeped three times. Short and sharp. Cutting through his head like a bloody knife. As he unloaded the boy’s shorts and shirt, he was at a loss about how to move forward. There was no way he could continue in this stupefied state. He needed to get a grip of his feelings, his life.
Shaking out the creases, he decided that once Sergio had them on, they would be grand. He supposed his life was one long crease that refused to iron out.