6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Maeve
“Gallagher! Where are you?!”
The angry voice bellowing down the hallway towards the reception is loud enough to resemble an alarm, and I straighten in my seat.
I rush through the room and do my best to ignore the stares from my colleagues as I leave the office and head to where the ruckus is coming from.
Even though I don’t recognise the voice, I have an idea about who my visitor is, and I’m ready to face his outburst.
“Maeve, dear, I’m…”
I hold a hand up to Franny. “Don’t be sorry. I knew this was coming.”
In front of the glass pane separating the reception area from the main entrance is a pissed-off, white-haired mountain of an older man.
Mr. Murdoch. The owner of the town menace, aka Harry the Bull.
“Please settle down, Mr. Murdoch.”
“Settle down?! Settle down? You want to kill Harry, and you ask me to settle down?!”
Franny’s gasp behind me makes me shake my head.
“That is not what I…”
“Here!” He waves a piece of paper in front of my eyes and then points a meaty finger down on the middle of the page, crumpling it in the process. “It says right here in black and white, doesn’t it?” He clears his throat and opens his mouth as if he’s getting ready to read the letter aloud.
“There’s no need to entertain the Gardai,” I interrupt.
His eyes snap up to mine.
“You can’t kill Harry.”
“I have no intention of killing Harry, sir.” I reach out my hands as if he’s a wild horse that needs to be settled down.
“But something must be done about his wandering off to ruin your fellow villagers’ gardens.
I can’t keep fetching him from Mrs. McCarthy’s home, and you know it as well as I do.
I’m surprised you don’t mind him ruining her beautiful flowerbeds. ”
Mr. Murdoch crosses his arms and sniffs, his red nose high in the air. “The Cloonmara villagers and I have an understanding,” he grouses.
I open my mouth in disbelief. “Say that again?”
“Since Harry doesn’t hurt a fly, he may go wherever he wants, girl!”
I’m at the end of my rope and grit my teeth at the condescending villager who clearly has no respect for authorities.
“We can’t have bulls running around the village, sir. No matter how placid one of them might be, bulls are dangerous, and the rules are the same for everyone, including Harry and you.”
“Um, Maeve…”
I whip my head in Franny’s direction.
“Tom’s actually right.” She wrings her hands. “We’ve gotten used to seeing Harry on one of his walkabouts, and we don’t really mind him when he sticks to the roads, so…” Her voice trails off, probably from seeing the deep frown that seems to be perpetually etched into my forehead since I came here.
“But that’s the problem, Franny. He doesn’t stick to the roads. He ruins the gardens of one of your neighbours, and that’s not acceptable, is it?”
I don’t want to risk biting her head off, so I turn back to the old man instead.
“Keep him inside your gate, Mr. Murdoch. That’s an order.”
Without giving anyone the chance to say another word, I turn and head back to my desk.
I sit down, annoyance running through my system.
I sit down on the office chair and open my laptop, jiggling the mouse to wake it up.
I pretend to read through the report I was working on before I was interrupted, but the words keep jumping around in front of my eyes, making it impossible to concentrate.
I shut the laptop again and pick up a pen and paper, thrumming my pen to a beat audible only to my ears, uncaring that the sound could be annoying to my coworkers.
The bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach has been overcoming me lately, even when I try to do all that I can to push it away.
I rest my other hand on my chin and stare into thin air.
I have a sinking feeling that coming here was a mistake.
That taking control and leaving the hustle and bustle of the big city wasn’t the right thing to do.
“Are you okay, Gallagher?”
I tilt my face a fraction and blink the cobwebs from my eyes to see my boss standing next to my desk. He stares down, a deep frown in place under bushy eyebrows.
I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “Yes, Sir. I’m fine. Just…” I move my shoulders in a light shrug. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
He leans against my desk and crosses his arms, peering down at me. “I see.”
I doubt he believes me, but I meet his calculated gaze and don’t flinch.
“Murdoch was here a while ago. The old man giving you trouble?”
“None that I can’t handle, Sir.”
“Good, good. Well…” He pushes away from my desk and glances at his watch. “I think you should go home for the day.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the stern and steady gaze he aims my way brooks no argument.
I snap it shut immediately. While I’m not a pushover, I can’t disobey what is clearly a direct order.
It’s frustrating as well as annoying, and I can’t resist showing him a little bit of my temper as I push the chair back harder than I normally would. I grab a stack of files and nod at him.
“Very well, Sir. I’ll finish up these reports from the cottage, then.”
“Fine, fine. Just make sure to let Franny know before you go so that she can make a record of it.”
“Of course.”
“Right, well…see you tomorrow.”
“Sir.”
I make quick work of packing the files and the laptop in my bag, and then I head out of the office, away from prying eyes.
“I’m sorry, Maeve,” Franny whispers and hands me the pen to sign off the files.
“It’s no big deal.” I scratch my name and hand it back with a crooked smile. “Just one of those days.”
Franny reaches for my hand. “I meant no disrespect, dear. But, well, Tom was right. We don’t mind Harry running around the village. He’s like our very own mascot.”
I blink, surprised. “Bulls are not pets, Franny. They can be erratic and wild. Besides,” I heft the bag up in my arms, “poor Mrs. McCarthy’s garden is being trampled to death every couple of weeks, and I can’t let that happen.
” I blow away a lock of my hair from my eyes.
“It’s illegal to ruin people’s flowerbeds on purpose, and if Murdoch keeps ignoring that, there has to be consequences.
Frankly, I’m surprised this wasn’t dealt with ages ago.
The bull needs to stay behind a fence, and Murdoch just has to accept that. Have a good evening.”
I don’t wait for her answer. I turn to leave the station.
I move through the sliding doors, walk through the car park, and cross the street, taking the path through the churchyard to get to the shortcut that will take me home.
The breeze kissing my skin is warmer today, or perhaps it’s my rising temper that makes me think that’s the case.
A sinking feeling settles in my heart.
I hate feeling like this. Like I have no purpose here.
Being here has only solidified that I’m alone, with no family or loved ones to phone or go out and spend an evening with.
I take in a shaky breath, hoping that I’ll reach the cottage before anyone can see the tears in my eyes.
Perhaps all I need is a good cry to let go of all the pressure that’s built up inside me for the past few weeks.
I only wish I had a shoulder to cry on.
Being alone and being lonely are two very different things, but these days, I’m both.
I glance around as I walk through a lane hidden mostly by trees on one side and a large wooden fence on the other.
So distracted by my own melancholic thoughts, I must have taken a different turn than usual, because I don’t recall having been here before.
I curse inwardly and squint into the distance when my ears pick up the steady sound of a hammer followed by a mild curse.
The wind carries the low voice with it, but I’m still so far away from whoever it is working out here in the field that I can’t make out if it’s a man or a woman.
The closer I get, the quicker I get to reveal who it is, and the moment my eyes fall on a mop of sandy-coloured hair, my belly dips.
I’m far from ready to meet the single dad and farmer again, but it seems I can’t escape him. My luck is as non-existent today as any other day, because my right foot gets caught in a hole in the gravel pathway, making me stumble. I let out a small gasp and grab onto the wood next to me.
Aidan’s head snaps up, his glasses adorably askew, and my heart skips a beat.
Be still, my heart.
His lips pull up in a crooked grin, and for the first time since I met him a few days ago, I notice something.
Dimples. Oh, no.
He’s killing me slowly.
Smiling like that at me is lethal to my rusty, underused, and frustrated lady bits.
“Hello, Detective,” he calls out softly. “Fancy meeting you here.”
The teasing glint in his eyes makes my brain cells rattle around, and I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water.
Aidan wipes his forehead, and I gulp when I notice the sweat stains on his white T-shirt.
A soft, long pull in my tummy sends heat to my cheeks, and I work my lower lip with my teeth. This can’t be happening.
I’m in lust with the single dad farmer.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” My voice comes out squeaky, and I wince. “Bad day at the office.” I clear my throat and avert my eyes, afraid to let on how unsettled I am. I raise my eyes to the sky, then down, and let them roam across the fields in front of me.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s just one of those days, I guess.” Even I recognise the unease coating my words as I try to play it off, but I’m getting tired of repeating the same words over and over again. They don’t even offer an explanation. They’re just words, and hollow ones at that.
Aidan nods, his smile slowly disappearing. “We all have them. Annoying, but we can’t escape them.”
“Yup.” I look anywhere but at him as the traitorous tears rush back and my eyes well up. I squeeze them shut, breathing deeply through my prickling nose before I open them again. I scan the fields, but I don’t see their beauty. All I see is my own misery and insecurity.
“Maeve.”