Can Anybody Help Me? (6 page)

‘I saw her brother on the television saying they have no clue what happened to her. My eye they don't! She's picked up some fella and gone off with him; sure isn't that always the way?'

Yvonne could feel the skin at the base of her hairline tighten and her cheeks flame. From out in the hall, a stair gate rattled and a loud banging began.

‘I don't think that's very fair, Hannah …'

‘Ah, fair my eye. What business had she going out anyway and her child at home. These unmarried mothers' – Hannah spat out the old-fashioned phrase – ‘gallivanting around the town instead of at home looking after their mistakes.'

Yvonne tried to keep her voice calm.

‘I don't think any of us knows …'

But her mother-in-law was on a roll.

‘I'll tell you something: she only got what was coming to her.'

A small voice told Yvonne to leave it. But a louder one, bolstered by three cups of coffee and no sleep won the argument.

‘That's a fucking awful thing to say!'

One carefully painted eyebrow rose to Hannah's hairline.

‘Excuse me?'

The baby was silent. Even the banging from the hall had faded. Yvonne knew she was heading towards a dangerous destination. But she was too angry to care.

‘She was a lovely person. She's not the type that would just abandon her baby!'

Hannah took a long, slow sip from her coffee, and then placed the cup back down on the counter.

‘My dear woman. It's not like you knew the girl. I've been around a lot longer than you and I know the type …'

‘I do know her!'

Yvonne's rage had spilled over and she pushed back her stool.

‘I do know her! She's a wonderful person, she loves her baby and there's no way she'd just go off like that! She's been a fantastic friend to me and …' She was weeping now, her breath coming in gasps and her shoulders shuddering. ‘Don't you talk about her like that, don't you dare …'

Róisín was crying now too, frightened by the sudden change in atmosphere.

‘Just leave, okay? Just go … I don't want to see you …'

She sank back against the kitchen counter and buried her face in the baby's neck. The scent of ammonia mixed with something far stronger wafted up towards her. Hannah had smelled it too and snatched Róisín out of her arms, striding towards the kitchen door without a backwards glance. She didn't need to speak, the set of her grey silken shoulders told Yvonne all she needed to know about her mother-in-law's opinion of her parenting skills. Alone, Yvonne buried her
face in her hands. Tears were almost a relief against her gritty eyelids.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Bill jabbing a piece of kitchen roll awkwardly in her direction.

‘Don't mind that one,' he muttered, a blush creeping up his cheekbones.

Yvonne gave a watery smile. ‘I've really gone and done it now, haven't I? Jesus, I'm sorry, Bill. Your mother … she just pressed the wrong buttons this morning.'

‘Ah, it wouldn't be the first time.' Bill smiled, and then looked at her more closely. ‘There's something else though, isn't there? It's not just the oul wan is annoying you?'

‘No.' Yvonne blew her nose noisily and then dissolved into tears again. ‘I've been really stupid.'

She thought for a moment, and then sighed. The humiliation of earlier was still too raw, she had been hoping not to think about it again. But given her extreme reaction to Hannah's comments, it was clearly still close to the surface. She took a deep breath. ‘You know the woman who's gone missing? From Ballyawlann?'

Her brother-in-law shook his head, slowly.

‘Sorry, no. Is she a friend of yours?'

Yvonne gave a watery smile. She'd forgotten Bill didn't listen to the news. As quickly as possible, she told him about the story she'd seen on television and in the newspaper. The woman had been missing now for over a week, and her family said they had no idea what had happened to her. Her baby was still with her grandparents and according to the latest reports neither her credit cards nor her passport had been used.

‘I kind of think I know her …'

‘Oh, yeah?'

‘You know I go on this website? Netmammy? I might have mentioned it before …' Keeping it as simple as she could, Yvonne explained the concept of parenting forums. Unlike his brother, Bill was too polite to slag the concept off, but she could see he didn't really understand it.

‘So have you met this one, then? Or …'

‘You post messages … and people answer them. And you do kind of get to know them in a way. It's silly really … but they're all mothers. They give advice and stuff. It's friendly …'

‘Sounds nice.'

Cooing sounds were coming from upstairs and Yvonne took a deep breath before continuing.

‘Well, I'm mates with this woman, MyBabba is her name, I mean it's not her real name; I don't know what she's actually called. I know little bits about her. You pick stuff up, from what people say. I mean I know she's from Dublin and she has a little girl who's twenty months old. Réaltín. She adores her. She's separated from the little girl's dad … anyway basically I had this stupid idea that she might be her. The woman who's missing. She hasn't been online in days and both their daughters are called Réaltín … Anyway.'

She bit her lip and could feel the flush spreading across her cheekbones. ‘I rang the police earlier when Ro was asleep. To tell them …'

‘Ah.' Bill smiled. ‘I'm only half following ya. And I'm guessing the guard was the same.'

‘Mmm.' Yvonne took another gulp from her rapidly cooling coffee, her hairline prickling with embarrassment as she
remembered the tone of incredulity in the young guard's voice.

‘They said it on the TV … anyone with information should contact … well you know yourself. They gave a number and that. And I thought it might be useful for them to know she hadn't been online, if it was her I mean, you know, just to say that that was out of character for her … Anyway.'

‘They thought you were off your rocker.'

‘Kinda, yeah.' Yvonne gave a weak smile. It was sort of funny when you thought about it. She'd spent ten minutes on the phone to the policeman trying to explain the concept of thread titles and personal messages. She might as well have been speaking fluent Greek. And although the officer had been polite, she knew he was dying to get her off the phone and probably make a joke of her to his mates as well.

‘Well, sure, you did what you felt was right. No harm done. No need to get upset anyway.'

‘No …'

But the kindness in his voice brought the tears to the surface again. It had just been such a shitty day. Róisín had roared half the night and Gerry had slept in the spare room. At 5 a.m., staring blearily into the darkness, ringing the police, or the guards as they called them here, had seemed like the right thing to do.

But when she had actually made the call, it was as if she were standing outside herself, listening to a silly hysterical woman who was manufacturing drama.

‘Ah, here. Yvonne.' She hadn't realised until Bill pushed another tissue into her hand that the tears were flowing freely again.

She could hear his mother's steps on the stairs accompanied by the happy burbling of a freshly changed and sleepy baby.

Hannah entered the kitchen and saw that Yvonne was weeping.

‘I'm guessing Madam here didn't sleep much last night.'

Yvonne blew her nose and shook her head.

‘Not a wink. I think she's teething. I gave her some homeopathic granules, but they didn't do any good.'

Her mother-in-law sniffed.

‘A good dose of Calpol, that's what the child needs.'

Her tone was softer than before and Yvonne grabbed the lifeline.

‘You're right, Hannah. I should have got some yesterday. I'll remember the next time.'

Hannah's face brightened.

‘I could pick you up a bottle, if you like? In fact, why don't we bring the baby for a walk, let you get your head down?'

For a moment, Yvonne considered arguing. If the baby were teething, the last thing she needed was a blast of cold air. But she was so very tired.

‘Yes, please.'

‘Lovely. You can come with me, Bill; we'll call to the shop on the way back.'

Bill gave his hammer a rueful glance, but didn't argue. With Hannah, that was often the safest thing to do.

Drifting …

Ignoring the housework, Yvonne had headed straight to bed as soon as they had left. Too tired even to get undressed, she had simply climbed straight under the covers. She hadn't watched the three of them walk away. That would have been
too difficult. People were always telling her she spent too much time with Róisín. Hannah, Gerry, even Veronica the public health nurse – who called around once a week – seemed to delight in telling her she needed to ‘get out more'.

Almost everyone seemed to think there was something unnatural about the amount of time she and her baby spent together. Hannah continually offered to babysit and the nurse wanted her to join a mother and baby group in the local community hall.

But she wasn't a joining kind of person.

Her muscles jolted as she sank deeper, deeper into the soft sheets. She was so tired. So very tired. Loved her baby. Just hadn't expected it all to be so … overwhelming. Being on call all the time. Alone. It was true; no one could describe how it felt. Motherhood. Having someone so dependent on you.

The policeman. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to edge the thought away but it was in under the gate and niggling at her. The sneer in his voice as he said, ‘I'll keep your call on file, Mrs …?' Suddenly realising how incoherent she sounded, she had given her maiden name and hung up before he could ask for a phone number. The last thing she wanted was for Gerry to find out how foolish she had been.

The sneer in his voice. Just like the nurse. The rise at the end of the sentence and the eyebrow lift every time Yvonne admitted she didn't like leaving Róisín, not even for an hour.

She didn't want to join a group, to meet other mothers and babies. It sounded horrific, sitting around, taking notes, comparing children, judging each other. That's why she loved Netmammy. It was just so much easier, using the website. You
could say what you wanted, ask a question, have an opinion. Speak your mind. No one knew who you were.

All she needed was a little more sleep and she'd be fine. Then she'd be ready for Réaltín again.

Róisín.

Her limbs grew heavier. The thoughts receded. The sheets were cool and calm.

‘Yvonne! Where's the baby?'

She sat bolt upright in the bed, her heart racing.

‘Yvonne!!! Róisín's not in the cot! She's not downstairs!'

Gerry burst into the bedroom, his hair dishevelled.

Her mind spun.

The baby?

‘Oh, Jesus.'

She looked around the room.

‘Where's the baby …?'

Gerry grabbed her shoulder.

‘Jesus, Yvonne, no messing okay? Where is she?'

The baby …

The front door bell rang just as the answer seeped into her frazzled, fuzzy brain.

‘Hannah took her …'

But Gerry was already halfway down the stairs.

Her eyes ached as the unshed tears built up again. The guard, the nurse, Hannah, they were all right. She knew nothing. She was just a silly stupid girl.

The curtains had been carelessly drawn and a shaft of light pierced the gloom of the small, sparsely furnished room. Dust mites streamed onto an empty glass, a pill box, the carpeted floor. The drone of a lawnmower could be heard through the open window. He walked over and tugged it closed with a bang. The figure in the bed moaned, but didn't move
.

‘
Water?' The word was said in a whisper. Parting her lips slightly, she ran the tip of her tongue across parched, cracked lips. The skin had fallen back from her cheekbones leaving her face deceptively smooth, her hair incongruously dark against the pillow
.

‘
Water?
'

With consciousness came distress. Her eyes flickered open and met his. But her thirst was greater than her fear and she moved her hand feebly on the blanket, her fingers flickering in the direction of the bedside locker
.

The glass was smeared with fingerprints and felt lukewarm to the touch, but it was the only one in the room. He held it to her lips
.

‘
Thank. You
.'

She raised her head for a moment and then let it fall back again. Her voice stronger now, she spoke again. ‘So, are you going to help me?
'

‘
Yes
.'

He replaced the glass on the bedside table and sat delicately on the side of the bed, careful to keep a distance from the emaciated body
.

‘
How is she?
'

He said nothing, just looked at her and the pale blue eyes opened wider and fixed on his
.

‘
Please, tell me that she's well?
'

‘
She's fine
.'

‘
Ah
.'

The answer seemed to give her strength and she made a ball of her fist, grabbing a handful of blanket before continuing
.

‘
Can I see her? Will she come here?
'

‘
I don't think that's a very good idea
.'

The blue eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady
.

‘
Please
.'

‘
Have you had a chance to think about things?
'

A dry, cracked laugh
.

‘
Not much else to do in here
.'

‘
No
.'

He didn't return the smile, but placed one hand on top of hers, cupping the claw. Outside the window, a siren wailed, increased in volume and then retreated
.