Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
DECLAN
Maisie had flaked out just after eight, so Jess sent Declan a text to tell him so.
She looked in on Maisie in her bed, mouth open sleeping soundly after all her running around in the park and felt a rush of love. She could imagine a time when Maisie would not be a small child and idly wondered whether she would ever have any more children.
Jess instinctively plumped up the cushions on the sofa, when she heard the doorbell ring ten minutes later.
‘Hi.’ Declan stood on the doorstep, and looked almost nervous, compared to how he had appeared earlier.
‘Come in, then,’ said Jess, opening the door wide.
‘Fancy a drink?’ she asked once they were seated in the neat lounge.
Declan felt like downing a stiff whisky but thought he had better keep a cool head.
‘I am afraid I only have white wine, or maybe you would like a coffee?’ she asked brightly.
‘Coffee is fine.’ He smiled as he felt the nerves in his stomach roll. Was there anything to be achieved by telling Jess why he had been shaken by the appearance of those guys? He could invent a story about not feeling well at the end of the evening, he thought, as he steadied his breathing.
Once more, he told himself that the events of the past had nothing to do with his present, or his future. And with each day that passed, he realised that he wanted his future to be with Jess.
‘So,’ said Jess, sitting at the end of the sofa after she had made his coffee and got herself a white wine. ‘You said you wanted to talk.’
‘That’s why I am here,’ he said as he took a sip of his coffee. ‘The thing is I had a great evening, as I have already told you,’ he said, placing his cup down onto the nearby table.
‘But?’
‘But you were right, I thought I recognised the two guys near the train station.’
‘Right,’ said Jess as she took a sip of white wine. ‘I knew something was up.’
She met his eyes. ‘So who were they?’
‘I’m not sure they were who I thought they were.’ He sighed. ‘But let’s just say that if they were someone from my past, I would not have wanted them to know I lived around these parts.’
‘Surely if they recognised you they would have said something?’ She frowned.
‘That’s what I had been thinking,’ he admitted. ‘So I arranged to meet my cousin in Southport to ask her a few questions.’
The lady entering the restaurant with him, thought Jess.
‘She kind of put my mind at rest, reminding me that allegiances change, and in fact the guys I thought I saw had moved away from the area.’
‘What guys?’ Jess frowned.
‘They used to be drug dealers, bottom feeders for a drug lord in my old neighbourhood,’ Declan explained, his heart hammering.
‘And what does that have to do with you?’ she asked uncertainly.
‘Have you ever heard the name Tony Callaghan?’
‘I have, yes. It was all over the local news when he died. Hit-and-run, I believe,’ she said, recalling the incident.
‘I heard it was an accident,’ said Declan. It had been an accident, there was no doubting that.
‘Well, whatever, I hate to say it, but he was no loss to society,’ said Jess. ‘I think whoever did it probably did the police a favour.’ She shook her head. ‘Would you believe I ended up at his wake,’ she told him, recalling the day she and a friend had met for lunch, and finished up in the pub.
‘You knew him personally?’ asked Declan, shocked.
‘No of course I didn’t know him.’ She shook her head.
‘We had no idea the wake was going to be taking place at the pub. We headed off as soon as it filled up with his cronies,’ she explained.
‘We thought the mourners would not be the most savoury group to be around, especially after the drinks started flowing.’
There was a pause.
‘So why exactly are we talking about Tony Callaghan?’ she asked him, as he stared into space and wondered why on earth he had ever started this conversation.
‘Declan?’ she repeated, a frown crossing her face.
‘Because I killed him,’ he replied, not daring to meet her eyes.