Chapter 19 Classic Paddy #3
“Another investigation? Are you in trouble?” she asks, worry lining her words as she swings her head in my direction.
“It was an accident,” I let out, for the first time ever, trying to reassure her. Aaron and I both messed up that night. Not just one of us. I’ve never fully seen it this way, but after tonight, even though terror still claws at my throat, something in me has settled.
Like I’ve finally stopped drowning.
“Please don’t worry. I’m not in trouble with the law. Tom assures me they’re just checking their procedures and policies more than anything.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” she says, trying to sound bright. “I know how hard you work. It can’t be easy.”
Having to wait isn’t what I wanted to hear, but I can’t dwell on it. “Only thing is, I’ll have to commute.”
She jerks back like she’s been stung. “Why? What happened to your flat?”
“Hannah’s moving in with her brother’s children.”
My mother shakes her head aggressively. “I bet she told you she wanted you back as well?”
She must have the same superpower as Fi. She doesn’t even know Hannah. Has only met her on a few occasions. “How did you know?”
Settling in her chair, she calms her breathing, cheeks still a little flamed. “Because, as well as being your mother, I’m also a woman. I can bet the poor girl’s scared. You said once before that the kids’ mother isn’t around?”
I nod and pick up my mug off the table. “That’s right.”
“So the girl has a lot of responsibility all of a sudden. She wants a roof over her head. You know, security.”
I contemplate her words, already seeing the similarities between their situation and Evie’s. A child in need of a home and loving family. “Don’t we all.”
She breathes heavily. “And what will you do?”
While the rhythm of my heart slowly returns to normal, the fact still remains that my plan doesn’t sound like much of a plan at all. “I was thinking I could stay here for a while, in Stoney Grange?”
Mum’s round, solemn eyes brim with emotion.
“Don’t do that,” I tell her, smiling. “You daft thing.”
“I’m sorry, son.” She shakes her head. “Of course you can stay here. What will you do about the flat though?”
My shoulders raise. “I’ll sign it over to Hannah. She can have it.”
“What?” she asks, sounding confused.
Perspective.
I don’t need it. There are bigger things to worry about. “I’ve started proceedings already.”
Mum gawps at me. Mute.
I explain, “When I went to see Andy, he wasn’t finished with the repairs. I ducked into the solicitors and got all the necessary paperwork.”
“And you’re happy to just hand it over like that? No money or anything for it?”
My cheeks pull, but not in humour. “She’s going to need it, isn’t she?”
Mum inclines her head. “You’re a good man, Paddy O’Keefe.”
Hearing my name like that, I can’t hold back my smile.
“What is it now?” she asks, seeing me thinking.
“Nothing, Mum,” I tell her, wanting to figure out the right thing to do.
It’s not awkward, but a silence descends in the kitchen as we each take a swig of our drinks.
“So will you ever tell me why you were drinking the whisky?”
I gape at her. “Did you not listen to what I was just talking about?”
“You eejit,” she says, her thick, north Dublin accent packing a punch as strong as her hand. “You already got your flat sorted and spoke to Tom. That’s not what’s keeping you awake.”
Fuck my fucking life with this place. “Jesus.” I stand and take my mug from the table, dropping it into the sink. Both of my palms rest against the counter. “If you must know, it’s Morgan.”
“I thought it might be, son.” She mirrors my movements, coming to stand beside me but leaning her back against the counter. She wraps her gown, which has loosened, around her. “Anything I can help with?”
I wish there was. I really do.
“Not this time. No.”
Giving my back a rub, she sighs before she pushes away from the counter. “Good. I don’t think I can handle any more tonight. But if you need anything from me, you know I’m always here for you. And your father is.”
Her words flow gently over the cracks in me. “I know.”
She nods before walking to the door, taking herself up to bed.
Images of Morgan not being able to talk to her father, and knowing how isolating that must be for her, hit me hard.
And before I can stop myself, I whip around to face her, knowing if I don’t say it now, I never will. “Morgan’s sick,” I blurt out. “I don’t know what to do.”
Mum’s eyes flick back and forth, searching for answers. “What do you mean, sick?” She glares at me with worry in her eyes.
I shake my head. “I don’t know how to explain it. But I have to help her. I have to find a clinic. A doctor. Someone or something that can help.” My throat cracks.
Mum’s in front of me in a heartbeat. Assessing me, she seems oddly calm when I can feel myself beginning to sweat. “If there’s one person in Stoney Grange that girl has needed in the past three years more than anyone, it’s you, son.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” she counters confidently. “I know you’ll find a way to help. You always do.”