

Untold Rage

By Ger Conlan

Copyright 2012 Ger Conlan

First Edition

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover art by Ivy Howard

Chapter 1. Dying Words

The hum of the bustling nurses' station faded into the background as she made her way haltingly along the brightly lit but malodorous corridor. There was something nauseating about the combined smell of disinfectant and boiled food which hung consistently in the air of every hospital she ever had the bad luck to enter. Not that she had entered that many, just one other, in Dublin a few years earlier, but it had had the exact same smell. 'Must be a building code requirement' she muttered to herself then imagined busy engineers peering over blueprints while saying "the boiled food smell will come through this duct, the disinfectant from the other."

The reluctance she felt in getting to her destination was due not only to the offensive olfactory invasion, but to a complex combination of emotions. The truth be told Lucy Courtney felt very jittery and nervous in this particular environment, but apart from having solidly clenched jaws, managed to hide it well.

She was in a special isolation area of the palliative care unit for patients with infectious diseases, contagious viruses and other bacteria of the super-bug variety. All visitors were unceremoniously greeted with an anti-microbe lei of sorts which was a sterile kit consisting of a disposable gown, gloves, shoe covers and a special face mask that had to be worn at all times. Failure to do so meant having giant cotton buds shoved up one's nose to remove mucus for analysis after each visit. They called it a nasal swab, but from Lucy's experience it was more like a nasal stab because a nose bleed always ensued. But that was not the reason for her anxious state. She had now reached stage three of a four stage internal neurotic emotional process that occurred with every visit. It started with a panic attack in the parking lot, the sweats at the nurse's station and now the dental clamp in the corridor – mild to not-so-mild tremors culminated the final phase on the anxiety roller coaster. But anywhere along the path of these stages, one reaction could be more severe than the other and she'd have to wait in a state of semi-paralysis until the feeling passed.

So far, this morning it hadn't been too bad, which was nothing short of a miracle considering that the few hours' sleep from the night before were wrought with nightmares about being eternally confined in the corridor. Many people fear spiders, snakes, elevators, or the circus clown, for Lucy it was hospitals, clinics, and most things medical. This resulted in her never having had a gynecological exam, which at twenty years of age was not cause for concern really because she would have plenty of time to have her plumbing inspected, eventually......after giving birth... in forty years' time...or thereabouts.

Like most fears hers had started with a frightening childhood experience. She had been eight years old she had come to this same place with her mother and grandmother during her father's last weeks in his fight against cancer and never recovered from the shock of seeing an emaciated old man with death in his eyes instead of the broad strapping smiling daddy she knew. When he passed away it seemed like ages before anybody laughed again. Lucy didn't know it then, but her mother had already been diagnosed with colon cancer and within a year her battle ended in the same way as her father's. And now Hannah Moore, her grandmother and only remaining relative who had raised her since becoming an orphan was experiencing a similar fate. So, it was perfectly logical that Lucy was a bit bonkers when it came to hospitals, more especially this corridor because it represented only one thing: loss.

After seeing her loved ones slowly waste away into a morphine induced death, Lucy promised herself that she would never finish her days as they had, although given the kind of gene pool she was coming from, the chances of that were extremely remote.

Above the protective mask Lucy's eyes traveled to the decorative hangings on the walls where inspirational quotes about hope, survival and the journey of life were framed onto various images of sunsets, mountain tops and other heavenly similes. They were supposed to help both patients and visitors cope with the inevitability of death, but they were the equivalent to Santa Claus stories: nice to believe in, but a load of crock.

Her grandmother's health had been deteriorating rapidly now, and Lucy knew they were estimating her approaching death in terms of days, not weeks. While some thought that dying at aged ninety was good with the well-she-lived-a-long-life attitude, for Lucy being without her Nana was unimaginable no matter how little time remained. Yes, she was a grown, independent woman but the thought of being completely without family was proving difficult to absorb.

Taking in a deep breath for courage, she went to press down the door handle, but her hand suddenly trembled violently. She recoiled in shock as panic gripped her body. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, her throat felt like sand-paper and her breathing came in short gasps. She pulled down the face mask and quickly reached in under the yellow paper gown, opened the clasp of the satchel slung low across her shoulder and fumbled blindly around the contents until she grabbed the bottle of water. After pushing back the long red hair from her face, she took a several gulps, wiped her mouth, paused for air then drank again far beyond her thirst.

When the moment of terror had passed she tightened the cap on the bottle returned it to the bag and thought "coward!" Then plucking some tissues from the bag along with a small compact mirror she dabbed her forehead checked her reflection and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Humph" she admonished "I'd qualify as the lead role in zombie bride of the night." Her green eyes looked dull from lack of sleep, and her already pale skin appeared a deathly white. She had lost some weight too, which on a five foot seven frame reflected the level of stress she was currently experiencing. Her eating habits of the past few weeks had become deplorable; cheesecake was now the main source of nutrition, which provided nothing from the four main food groups, and everything from the comfort group. No wonder her skin lacked luster, she was probably deficient in every vitamin and mineral out there. Discouraged at what she saw, she snapped the compact closed, put it back into her satchel and took several deep long breaths before replacing the face mask and discreetly entering the sparsely furnished private room.

A distinct odor of sterile rubber and disinfectant filled the room making her already queasy stomach lurch. It was only 6.30 in the morning and she foregone breakfast in the off-chance that any of the four stages would cause vomiting, as had happened once before, right in front of a gorgeous Middle-Eastern doctor. Her sleeping grandmother looked even frailer than yesterday, if that was possible. The cheeks that were once chubby and rosy had now turned a deathly pale and her skin was so thin it seemed to stretch tautly over her high cheek bones. The silk-like silver hair appeared matted and unkempt, and the gaunt face, which was partially covered with an oxygen mask, did not look peaceful at all. Lucy placed a chair by the weak woman's bedside removed the face mask, which she knew was strictly prohibited, but how could she remain distant and isolated from Hannah in her current state?

"Hey Nana" she said in an audible whisper while taking a frail hand in hers "what have you been up to while I was gone?" No reply came, none was expected either. Lucy moved the extra blanket from the bottom of the bed and placed it carefully over Hannah's feet. Suddenly the old woman's legs jerked and she moaned loudly. Her brow furrowed deeply and a moment later tears began streaming from her eyes. Perplexed at this sign of distress, Lucy quickly removed the cover then plucked a tissue from the box on the bedside table and gently dabbed Hannah's face as she spoke soothingly.

"Nana, everything's okay. It's me, Luce". Not that Hannah recognized her anymore. That had been the single most difficult aspect of the illness to accept. Pain could be medicated, but there was no remedy for whatever was robbing Hannah's mind of their last few days together. "I'm with you Nana, I'm with you". The distressed expression remained.

The doctors had informed Lucy that besides the anti-biotic resistant infection sweeping through the aging woman's body, her perception of reality had undergone more change. The hospital was now a hotel with great service and for the decent price of 1 shilling and 6 pence a day. This reference to the old monetary system meant she was probably reliving events from a considerable number of years ago, and these lapses back in time could change significantly from one moment to the next. Lucy was told that Hannah could even come back to the present day within the same sentence, but for now, it would seem she remained in a much earlier period of her life.

Lucy very gently massaged the frail arm and continued cheerily "you and I are well overdue a trip to Hanny's Tea House for an afternoon of tea and chatting and Nora's cakes, of course. They're all complaining that business isn't the same since you've been......" it didn't seem appropriate to say "away", maybe that would confuse her more, especially if she was back in her youth.

"Well" Lucy continued lightly "I have brought you something that I think you will really like" then removing an old worn book from her bag continued "it's called 'A Room with A View', and I heard it's very interesting......and by the way, there could be a few fellas traipsing around starkers in it, so don't be shocked""

The frown seemed to disappear from her grandmother's face, which was no surprise, as this had been her favorite book; the yellowed pages, along with a disintegrating spine, was testimony to the many times she had read it throughout her life. Lucy began reading aloud and soon entered into Forster's pre-World War One Italy. Towards the end of the first chapter the attending physician came in to perform a last check-up on the patient before finishing his shift. Lucy, who had quickly returned the mask to her face, waited as he worked silently then signaled a quick goodbye as he left the room.

About an hour later when Hannah appeared less tense Lucy closed the book and rubbed her eyes in an effort to fight the need to sleep. In just a few hours, she was to travel to Templemore in Tipperary to sit a series of exams as part of the selection process for the Garda Siochanna – the Irish police force. With her excellent A Level results from two years ago, her high level of fitness, good physical and mental health – well, apart from the neurotic reaction to the hospital and her recent weight loss from stress - she considered herself a prime candidate. The two years she had spent as a voluntary coast guard had been enjoyable, but Lucy finally decided she preferred the land to the sea and that her true calling was to be a police officer. However, she was also a realist and had to contemplate an alternative route should that not materialize. Hannah had taught her that in life it was always wise to have a solid plan "B", just in case. And, true to her upbringing, she had applied and was accepted to Limerick University where she would major in Modern Languages and Psychology. All the European language classes were full, so it was a toss-up between Mandarin and Arabic. Anyway, deep in her heart she could not envisage being anything but a police officer, so resorting to this academic plan was not something that would transpire.

Hannah seemed at peace now and Lucy felt more relaxed. The heat in the room was comforting in a strange way, like a warm blanket enveloping her snuggly, which combined with lack of sleep from the night before, made her feel very drowsy. Soon her eyes started to droop, her head felt heavy, and she thought it would do no harm to doze off for just a moment.

"Quickly! Oh God!" The voice screamed " Move!!!! Move it!!! Come on - move now!"

Lucy bolted from her chair with shock. There was a panicked voice, someone was in trouble! She immediately dashed out of the room and into the corridor, but didn't see any commotion, everything was silent.

"They're burning them alive!!!! Move!!!!!!!"

Lucy spun around in shock realizing that the panicked voice was coming from her grandmother. The oxygen mask had been thrown aside and even though Hannah was gasping for air she still managed to wail "Over on the hill.... they're being burned alive! Move now!! Move, or more will die! Save the children"!

Lucy quickly raced to the bedside and replaced the mask over her grandmother's face but it was thrown aside amid more shrieks of "they're dead; they're all burned!! Move!!!!"

Lucy pressed hard on the red panic button next to the bedside table then leaned over Hannah's thrashing body.

"Nana, Nana" she whispered urgently "it's okay, nobody's hurt, it's just a bad dream".

She held on tighter to the writhing body as it trashed about in deep distress. Tears rolled down Lucy's cheeks as she called aloud for help, but nobody came and the thrashing became even more violent. Struggling to restrain Hannah, who had slid halfway down the bed, Lucy held on tight to the emaciated wrist with one hand as she stretched across towards the panic button with the other hand, calling loudly again for help as she did so. Just then her grandmother stopped moving, seized Lucy's hands in a death grip while pulling her close to her face then looked hard into her eyes and said through gasping breaths and gritted teeth "I'll slit his bloody throat".

Lucy stared down at her grandmother hardly believing the expression of hate etched into the old woman's face. This neither looked nor sounded like the loving Hannah she knew. Realizing she had better ease her out of whatever place she was in, Lucy gently cradled the frail body while saying softly "Hannah, it's okay, he's gone. Don't you worry, everything will be fine now. He's gone, he's gone."

The words seemed to help but Hannah kept the death grip she had on Lucy's hand. Just as the medical team burst into the room, Hannah turned her gaze away and slipped into unconsciousness releasing her hold as she went.

"What happened?" one nurse asked hurriedly while placing a mask on her face and setting up the medication she was about to administer.

"What took you so bloody long!!!?" Lucy cried in exasperation.

"What happened? The nurse repeated coldly.

"I'm...I'm not sure" she replied in bewilderment while still staring at her grandmother. "She seemed to be having some sort of nightmare, but it was as if she was actually there. It was not like a dream. I don't know what the hell happened!!!!"

The doctor who was speaking a litany of medical jargon ignored Lucy and relayed information of the ailing lady's vital signs to the nurse. Charts were checked and information was exchanged without either of them looking at Lucy.

After what seemed like an eternity Lucy shouted "Will someone tell me please what is going on!!!"

It was the doctor who spoke "this happens frequently you know. They believe they're reliving an event from the past, but you can't know if it's real or not."

Do you think it's real? Lucy asked wide eyed.

Neither one replied. The doctor was busily moving his stethoscope around her heart area, and the nurse checked the patient's chart. Nobody, appeared to have heard her, or perhaps they did not want to. Observing them both, Lucy realized they were attending to was just another patient, just another old lady who had lived a long life, and who was nearing the end now. They didn't know that for Lucy, this old lady was Hannah Moore, the most wonderful, loving person in the world, the only person she could call family; the only person who made the loss of her parents bearable and the only one who stepped in to take care of her. They could not see this Hannah; all they could see was just another plastic identity bracelet.

A monotonous beeping sound resonated the end of her grandmother's journey.

"I'm sorry" the doctor said turning to Lucy "Hannah has just passed away". A moment passed before Lucy walked slowly over and sat on the side of the bed; she leaned in and hugged her Nana lovingly. "Thank you Nana", she whispered as she kissed her cheek gently. "Thank you for being there when I needed you most; I love you and will always, always miss you. Then with that she took her bag and left running as fast as she could.

*

Limerick, the third largest city in the Republic of Ireland, lies on the River Shannon in the southwest region of the country. Steeped in history dating back to well before the time of the Vikings, Limerick was, until the mid-eighteenth century, a fortress enclosed within medieval walls. While the face of the city has slowly altered over time, there still remains a visible medieval core. The older district of English Town is to the north at the junction of the Shannon and Abbey Rivers, the two districts to the south of the Abbey River are Irish Town and Newtown Perry. On the eastern end of Irish town is Lower Gerald Griffin Street, so named for the Limerick poet, playwright and novelist, Gerald Griffin; it was here that Lucy found herself two days later standing beside her grandmother's coffin in Crosse's Funeral home.

The small, but appropriately somber room provided a warm and intimate atmosphere which allowed those who knew and loved Hannah to pay their last respects while offering condolences to Lucy, who stood in muted awe at the amount of people filing through the place. Hannah's friends and neighbor's from where she lived on Ahtlunkard Street all came by for a brief farewell. Many of the customers from her Tea House showed up too, along with Nora the corpulent baker extraordinaire. Nobody could resist her cakes and breads, and she was the sole supplier of fixes for Lucy's addiction to cheesecake. Despite the solemnity of their surroundings, Nora had piled a load of food in neatly wrapped tin-foil packages into Lucy's arms claiming that she was starving herself to a slow death if she didn't eat more then left after paying her respects and inviting Lucy to a private ceremony at the Tea House on Saturday she left.

After placing the food on a table by the wall Lucy glanced over at the perfectly embalmed body laying in the silk lined oak box, the peaceful face reflecting nothing of those final tumultuous moments which had forever altered the image of her loving Nana. Was impossible that Hannah had done something so atrocious? Hardly likely! But hypothetically speaking, if she had, what was her motive? And who was the victim? It took Lucy enormous control not to just shout out and ask the crowd "can anyone here tell me if Hannah committed a crime of the throat-cutting kind in her youth?" But that was no way to go about finding the truth; she would have to find someone who knew Hannah all their lives.

But of the many faces present, she recognized less than half. However she managed to discreetly ask a few unidentified mourners slowly parading by, how they knew her grandmother. Their vague responses only succeeded in further piquing her curiosity. One elderly man had replied that he came from the village where Hannah grew up, but admitted that he didn't know her very well, he had come to represent the Slattery family who would always be in her debt. Lucy wanted nothing more but to sit the man down and extract every last ounce of information from him, but a wake was not the place to take such action. So instead of pursuing persons unknown through the funeral home, she just stood there politely going through the motions, graciously accepting the many hands proffered, but inside was feeling like the last vestige of a genetically deficient group of atoms being displayed for all to see.

The people offering their sympathies could not see the gargantuan effort it was taking to hold things together. For two days now she had thought of nothing only Hannah's last words and the Garda exam she never took. After getting to Tipperary ninety minutes late she ended up having a "special" interview with the person responsible for admissions. Lucy explained her situation, but was told that unfortunately all lab technicians and medical personnel assigned to do testing on potential recruits were long packed up and gone home. The candidates currently taking exams were almost finished, so she wouldn't have time to participate. Sympathies were offered and her candidature was postponed until the next time. The exact date had not been established, but it could be a three or four year wait. So, it looked like plan "B" would be coming into effect after all. "University" she thought to herself "don't think that's for me; I'm not the type".

She sighed at the thoughts of what lay ahead, but figured she was more fortunate than many other people. After all, she was a financially independent woman, who had the freedom to choose what she wanted to do with her life. Hannah's words of counsel echoed in her head "your grandfather made sure you had a good start in life, use that money well." And she had...sort of.....no, really she had.

"So sorry about your loss" an elderly man was saying to Lucy, but she hadn't heard him at first because she was miles away in thought.

"Oh sorry, I was miles away" she said observing the small stooped man with a wooden cane and tweed cap in hand. His wispy hair protruded from the sides of an otherwise bald head and he wore a warm impish smile on a small thin weather-beaten face.

"I could see that, young lady" he said kindly "not everyone's cup of tea these places. I prefer cremation to a coffin myself, but then again, to each his own". He went to turn away and Lucy gushed "Did you know Hannah well?

He smiled roguishly "I knew Hannah Moore when I worked for her father at their creamery."

Lucy nodded remembering her grandmother talking about the creamery they had owned.

"But I was only there for a short while" he went on "after that my family left the area and I only met Hannah again once or twice by chance." He paused, as if thinking back to that particular time and sadness crossed his face. Then looking at Lucy he forced a smile and said "now that's going back a very long time ago, and young people these days don't want to be listening to scéals of the past, especially not the ramblin's of an auld fella like me."

"But I would love to have a chance to talk to you again" Lucy said whole heartedly. "What's your name?"

This seemed to please him greatly "I'm Pa Doohan from Kilrush" he said extending a hand with fingers curbed from arthritis.

They shook hands "Pleased to meet you Mr. Doohan".

"Just Pa, is grand enough for me" he said "I have a butchers shop in the town square. My sons manage the place now, but they haven't run me out of it altogether yet. I'm still allowed to go in and help every now and again, so come by and you'll find me there." Then with a slight wave of his hand he turned to walk away but stopped, turned and said "you'll recognize me when you get there 'cause I'll be the only one doin' the real work." He laughed heartedly at this and left the room. Lucy noticed him limp heavily as he walked away and knew she couldn't wait to get chatting with Pa again.

*

After the end of a sad day, it was with a heavy heart that Lucy pulled into the compact parking space to the left of the house and turned off the engine. With no lights on and only solitude waiting inside, the place seemed uninviting, eerie even. Although it was still quite empty, it had, despite her original plans, become a temporary home. For two months now she was the proprietor of a small three bedroom, terraced house in Raheen, a once rural community that was growing rapidly to meet the demands of the expanding city of Limerick. Hers was the last of five houses, in a small cul-de-sac called Ridgewood crescent. On the left side of the house was a small garden contoured with a high hedge that officially separated her plot of land from a small fairy fort, or wooded area, which doubled as a useful shortcut to the hospital. To the right of the house was the highly manicured garden and home of a retired couple who enjoyed weekly visits from their children and grandchildren. So far, they were fine as neighbors go, not invasive, just nosey, but they had a wonderful dog that had taken a shine to Lucy and who came by regularly to have his ears rubbed.

But even though her house was nice, she regretted the purchase; it had been her first time using part of the inheritance her grandfather had bequeathed them many years earlier, and the original plan to rent it in order to generate an income never materialized. After Hannah's hospitalization she decided to move in, as it was close to the hospital and allowed her to visit her grandmother anytime day or night. She never bothered to put in any furniture because it could never feel like home, unlike Hannah's house, which was situated on the other side of the city. Hers was a turn of the century, two storey modest cottage on Athlunkard street with a beautiful back garden so big, it could have fit at least three other cottages within its conifer hedged confines. A majestic lilac tree stood tall above the wooden gate; its branches bowing low and providing a heavenly summer scent, almost as a preview to the wonderful floral show about to be seen. With the Clare hills in the distance, the multitude of colors and aromas lifted the heart and the senses.

As the cold sound of her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, she was brought back to the reality of dreary solitude. Standing in the dark barren kitchen Lucy contemplated returning to Hannah's, but found, for the moment, that emptiness was easier to handle than a place full of memories. Immediate consolation was needed so she went to the fridge for a therapeutic serving of Nora's fresh lemon cheese cake. While brewing a strong cup of tea, she had listened to the messages on her phone and a wide smile broke across her face as her best friend Mags, who was in sunny Marseille along with four other of her close friends, talked loudly above a cacophony of voices in the back ground. "Hi Lucy Loo! I suppose you're at the hospital with Hannah. Hope everything is okay. Send her our love. How did your exam go? Knowing you, I'll bet you'll get full marks all around. Well, we're all fine – too bad you missed Paris, you would have loved it. Anyway, we arrived in Marseille this morning as planned. \- shush Tim, I know. I'll tell her!!! Tim wants me to tell you that this country is a cheese paradise, so you had better get your arse over here quickly! The food is delicious, makes a break from the curry and chips. Ha! Anyway next week we plan to be in Paris again, but for one night only, I'll email you the exact address and phone number, as I don't have the info on me at the mo. Now don't worry if you can't make it to Paris because we can meet up in Brussels. Hope to see you soon. Bye Luce. Take care.....Fiona says the French men are all hunks. So that and the cheese should be incentive enough for you to come over! Ciao! Oh, by the way the two apostles Mark and John are in a café getting drunk, but they asked me to send you their love, so I'm sending it - better have it tested!

Lucy was still smiling when she hung up the phone. Part of her really wanted to be with her friends on the six week Euro-rail trip across the continent. But Lucy's travel plans changed with the notice to attend the Templemore Police Academy to sit her exams. It was not something that could be postponed, so she decided to simply go as far as London come back and then arrange to meet her friends in Paris a week later. However, she spent all of twenty four hours in London when Nora called to say her grandmother had suddenly taken ill. Lucy left immediately, and despite the general sentiment of disappointment the agreement was to keep in contact in order to set up a possible rendezvous point.

Now though Lucy could not envisage trotting off on holidays, her heart just did not feel up to it no matter how much she longed for sun-filled days touring the wonders of Europe. With a heavy sigh, she put down her cup of tea. The caffeine and sugar cravings had dwindled away quenched by sadness and disappointment. Her eyes burned from abating tears, her inner core screamed from the sense of frustration and injustice at losing Hannah. She had been robbed; death had stolen the last of her treasures. Defeated and at a loss, she let herself sink down onto the kitchen floor and lay there coiled up in the darkness as tears dripped silently onto the tiles. The doorbell rang. She ignored it. Minutes later it rang again.

"Go away" she whimpered not feeling like talking to another soul!

A couple more rings later Lucy grumpily got up, turned on the lights and made her way down the hall to the door, but when she opened it nobody was there. "Feckin brats have nothing better to do." The street was deserted. The wind had picked up and the clouds had cleared, but it felt bitterly cold. She was about to close the door when something caught her eye. On the ground was a small white envelope, delivered in person, not posted; there was no stamp. She found this odd, and checked the street once more, but seeing nobody picked it up and quickly returned to the warmth of her house. She opened the envelope, removed the contents and found a hand written note that said;

Hannah Moore, wife, mother, murderer.

Chapter 2. Past Pains

The West Clare peninsula sits along the wild, rugged Irish coastline where the Shannon River Estuary meets the beautiful, but harsh Atlantic Ocean. Kilometers of high, imposing cliffs stand defiant against the relentless onslaught of powerful crashing waves which slowly sculpt the land at an imperceptible pace. Despite the unforgettable beauty of the seascape - which would make a convert of any land lover - the often turbulent weather, mostly infertile land and geographic isolation rendered the peninsula a sparsely populated one. However, on the river side, which stretches about fifty nautical miles inland, sits the small maritime community of Kilrush. The town was once a significant trading post where the deep water estuary allowed large and small vessels easy access to the port and made the town a primary source of commerce for the entire peninsula and surrounding areas. Now, it had become a popular tourists' spot, with many coming to admire the natural beauty of its environs.

As she parked her car between two barely visible yellow lines, Lucy had no trouble spotting Doohan's butchers; it's red and white striped canvas canapé stood out amongst a sea of blue tarp covered market stalls, as the Town Square bustled with Saturday morning shoppers eager to get their fresh produce for the all-important Sunday Lunch.

The frosty start to the day had dissipated into a much warmer, sunny morning and Lucy regretted wearing her heavy lined jacket. Her blue jeans and white long-sleeved t-shirt would have been enough, but she had dressed like one going on an Artic expedition. Adding to her general feeling of discomfort were the woolen socks she had worn inside her Ecco loafers. She removed the jacket and socks, tossed them on the passenger seat then slipped her shoes back on. After checking that her driver's license and bank card were tucked well into the back pocket of her jeans, she got out, locked the car, and crossed the street.

The weekly market had been a long standing tradition dating back centuries, and despite many political setbacks managed to survive, and eventually thrive. Over the cacophony of various noises were the voices of vendors, eagerly calling out prices for their various produce. She smiled to herself when one man loudly told an interested client that his eggs were so fresh they were still warm from having just been laid- "the hen is knackered Ma'am, they're so big".

Dominating the entire scene was the Market House, a bold two storey building with a large clock centered above a balustrade balcony. Now the local Town Hall, the Market House was built in 1806 at the private expense of the town's then wealthy owner, Mr. Vandeleur. A name once synonymous with benevolence, he later came to be associated with a very disturbing chapter in Irish history, when in the aftermath of the famine years, which had a cataclysmic effect on the local population, mass evictions in Kilrush surpassed those of any other town. The destitute were dispossessed of their meager holdings as they were unable to pay exorbitant rent increases of sometimes two hundred percent. The person orchestrating the evictions was the town owner. Only the fortunate were able to buy themselves passage to America and a fresh start in a land where men were free.

Lucy looked around at the quaint picturesque village, with the breathtaking view of the surrounding sea and found it hard to imagine that Kilrush was once a place people fled from. Meandering through the stalls, she came upon a double-sided black board in the form of a large, smiling butcher complete with a full-size apron standing on the narrow pavement outside the butcher's shop. The day's specials to be availed of were neatly written in white chalk, and at the bottom they had added "come on inside. We'll be pleased to meet you and have meat to please you." Peering through the large shop front windows she squinted several times but caught no sight of Pa. The place was bustling with customers and the two men behind the counter were busy tending to their work; she decided to go on in and join the crowd.

Two large, portly men, identical twins in their mid- forties, wearing long white aprons and red paper hats stood at a more elevated level than their customers behind two wide, high glass fridges neatly displaying a variety of meats and cuts. A huge stainless steel double-door fridge was kept to the rear of the area and beside that was a white sink with shining steel taps. White tiles covered the walls of the entire shop giving the place an incredibly sterile effect.

One of the twins was serving the many customers crammed into the small entrance area the other remained in the background expertly cutting up meat at a rapid pace.

"Now, Mrs. O' Brien, there you go" the ruddy faced butcher said in a very strong Clare accent as he slapped a large piece of parceled meat onto the narrow metal counter above the fridge "Mickey will be sayin' 'tis the best rump roast in Clare when he eats that".

Lucy glanced over at the person he had spoken to and saw a petite middle-aged woman smile and roll her eyes "tha' fella" she said "wouldn't know a good cut of meat if it jumped up and bit him."

Lucy thought everybody must know her husband because they all laughed at this.

"As long as the telly is on, the Guinness is good and the meat is hot, he's happy!" More laughter followed as she thanked the butcher and made her way through the small crowd, jovially greeting all those she knew.

Lucy watched in amusement at the butcher and his rapport with the customers; it was stand-up comedy in its purest form. The other butcher continued to quietly prepare meat, keeping his back to the customers as he worked away. He did serve one customer who asked him for a particular cut, then after politely performing his job with much less interaction, returned to his work. An introvert and an extrovert, Lucy thought to herself - interesting dynamic.

Each customer shuffled along patiently waiting to buy their chosen cut. Saw-dust generously scattered on the tiled floor gathered in clumps under her feet and every now and then she would shake it off by tapping the tip of her shoe on the terracotta tiled floor. When it was finally her turn to be served, the more out-going one called to her

"Mornin' to ya Ma'am. Is it a roast you'd like?" Lucy didn't get a chance to decline because he continued as if she had answered yes. "I've a fine one here for you" and proceeded to pick up a piece of beef that had been perfectly stringed. He stood there, proudly showing a large lean rump, which would have been more than adequate to feed a large family, waiting for her reply.

"No thank you" she answered kindly "Actually, I've come..."

But the man interrupted again "best there is, you know; it came from Mulchair's Farm over, so you can be sure 'tis the best you can buy."

Lucy thought of all the food she had in her fridge and knew that even if she did buy the meat, it would just go to waste. "Thanks, but no, honestly....." she tried to communicate that she was not here to buy meat, but for him, there could be no other reason for her being there. In fact he probably thought her indecisiveness was due to doubts about the quality of the meat in this mad-cow era.

"Grain fed...all of them. I'm tellin' ya, Ma Mulchair could come in here herself...."he continued with conviction "and swear to ya..."

"Actually" she interrupted more loudly than intended, afraid she'd never get a word in over the strong testaments to Mulchair's matriarchal quality control "I'm here to speak with Pa Doohan, please, if that's possible?"

A roguish glint appeared in the butcher's eye as he slowly lowered the piece of meat in his hands and returned it to the tray. Then turning his head slightly while keeping his eyes fixed on her, he called out with a booming voice "Da! Your presence is required out here with a young lady."

A few of the customers gave her curious glances, and one of them called out jokingly "Pa should be ashamed of himself, sure isn't he ancient".

More laughter followed and the butcher's acerbic replies to his customer's comments produced a full blown slagging session.

Unable to explain the error over the din of sarcastic comments, rich wit and veiled insults which constitute a slag, Lucy smiled as she looked on at the hilarity of the banter volleying over and back between butcher customers. A younger man who had been standing in the crowd suddenly joined in, and hearing his voice, the quieter brother stopped cutting meat, turned around and walked over to serve him. As the more extroverted twin continued to serve customers, Lucy observed his brother's interaction with the client and sensed some unresolved issue between both men as their exchange of words was muttered, and tense. The extroverted twin gave a furtive glance at his brother which clearly relayed his thoughts, and the quieter man returned to chopping meat. This left the younger man who was being served without a completed transaction and he was not content. His temper flared which had some of the older ladies tutting their disapproval at the bad language. The extrovert retorted with some of his own and warned him to watch himself or he's be out on his effin ear. All of a sudden a door off to the left beside the sink burst open, and Pa Doohan hobbled out. The discontented client immediately halted as Pa made his way over towards his son and stared directly at him.

"What's going on?" He asked leaning heavily on his cane. His son said nothing.

"You're running the place! There's no excuse for accepting that kind of carry on Tony".

Lucy was amazed to see the stooped elderly man reprimand his son so sharply.

"At your age you should know better. And you Terry" he said turning to the quieter man "shame on you for not helping him out. Your Mother," he said straining his stiff neck to look them in the eyes, "God rest her soul, would be ashamed of youse."

Lucy thought the sight of this tiny wizened old man confronting a towering being was a sight to behold. Despite his sons large stature, they reacted as young children trying to explain that it wasn't their fault it was the other fella who started it. His father cut them off swiftly. These last words seemed to have been the worst blow for both men and the guilt they felt became obvious when they apologized to their father."

"Not me" he said rolling his eyes and gesturing at the waiting customers "them! Apologize to them." The men turned to their customers and in unison apologized for upsetting anyone to which collective mumblings of "it's okay and "think no more of it" came from the crowd. The young customer who had been involved suddenly sniggered at the twins admonishing, but Pa Doohan spotted him and eyed him with a stern glare. "Breen Mac, do you have something to say to the people present?"

"I do in my arse" he replied defiantly "I've done nothin' wrong."

"Is that right? Pa said calmly "so, you won't mind me tellin' everyone what you were up to last Saturday night."

Some of the customers were curious and asked what he was doing, but Pa did not answer them. Breen Mac, who had turned very pale, immediately apologized to all concerned before darting away.

"Good lad" Pa called to him "I thought that might wipe the smirk off your brazen puss."

After Breen Mac had left, the lull passed and the customers began to chat again.

"Children" Pa senior said smiling to his customers "you're never done rearin' them, are ya? Now, who's next?"

He spotted Lucy and said "well, well, well, who do we have here?

"Hello Pa", she said smiling "if this is a bad time, I'll come by another day" she proposed without really meaning it. Since receiving that strange note, every fiber of her being wanted to find out about Hannah's past.

"It's good to see you again child" Pa said hobbling over to an opening in the counter and raising it "come on through and don't take any notice of my lads. There isn't a day goes by when I don't have to talk to them about one thing or another. But all in all they're good boys" he said looking at them proudly "a bit wild since their mother died, but good lads all the same." Passing the waiting customers, she walked through to the other side of the counter, and Pa turned to the now subdued twins and said "boys I'd like you to meet Lucy Courtney, the granddaughter of an old friend of mine, who unfortunately passed away just the other day." As the boys offered their condolences, Pa turned to her and said "Lucy, these are my boys Terry and Tony."

Offering her hand Lucy got a wide smile and a firm handshake from Tony, who was the more outgoing of the two and Terry, the shyer one, mumbled hello, briefly shook her hand then returned to chopping meat. Pa had already started to make his way over towards the door from where he had appeared, and Lucy quickly followed behind.

They entered a kitchen area that was bright and clean, albeit disorganized. To the right of the room, was another large, but older model fridge, which was covered with an assortment of magnets holding many invoices, order forms and a large calendar in place. To the left of the room there stood two old kitchen cabinets with a preparation counter in the center. Like the fridge, the counter was cluttered with stacks of papers that resembled more invoices, and order forms. As she closed the door behind her, she spotted a tall sealed barrel that was labeled "saw dust", beside which was a long shovel whose tip was dotted with the remnants of its last dip in the barrel.

There was something very cold about the place, but Lucy couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. The solitary light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling, the bare white walls and the clutter were not particularly inviting as décor goes, but the coldness she felt was not visual, it was atmospheric. Something in the climate of the butcher's kitchen was off, and it had nothing to do with the meat.

She walked towards Pa who was awkwardly preparing to sit down on one of the four vinyl chairs that matched the slightly cluttered Formica table. He fell heavily onto the chair, perhaps more heavily than expected because the impact caused him to muffle a gasp of pain and he immediately shifted his weight to the edge of the chair where his leg remained outstretched. Even in this odd position she could see he was making a great effort to veil the level of pain he was in.

"Are you okay Pa?" she asked with concern "can I get you something?"

He declined silently, but signaled gently for her to have a seat, and when she did he closed his eyes for a moment. Lucy looked away while his discomfort lingered, her gaze diverted out the large window directly behind, which gave onto a wide, well maintained back yard. A low concrete wall established the boundary of Doohan's property and within those parameters another division was emphasized. A little more than half of the yard was paved with fresh looking tarmac allowing ample space for delivery trucks to maneuver in and out. Lucy could see a car parked to the rear of the driveway along with an Econoline van with the words "Doohan and Sons, we deliver daily" stenciled in black lettering on the side. Clearly, her knowledge on the workings of a butcher's was limited, which was fine in her book because she wasn't big into the slaughtering of animals for their tasty rumps. Nor was she a vegetarian either, just not a big meat eater. The other section of the yard was a fertile garden, and it seemed that vegetables and herbs were well liked by whoever was doing the planting.

Lucy turned to Pa who was still trying to conceal the spasm that had now made him turn very pale; the torment written on his face became alarming and she feared he was going to pass out, or throw up, or have some sort of a fit.

"You really don't look well" she said quickly rising up from her chair "I'm getting help, now."

"NO!" Pa gasped as he opened his eyes. "Wait..." he whispered weakly, just one more minute, please."

Realizing how difficult it was for him to talk, Lucy decided to wait as he had asked, and to her great surprise, about one minute later, Pa's expression changed from one of wincing to one of being far more relaxed. He looked up at Lucy who was standing nearby ready to run for help. With a nonchalant wave of his hand he called to her "a chroi, a chroi!" he said referring to the Irish way of saying sweetheart, literally though it meant heart, heart.

"Sit down there child" he went on breathlessly. "It's only the leg letting me know I'm an old man. I mean it still gets me around from A to B, and I'm glad for that. But when I make a wrong movement well it takes the breath from me for a moment. That's all it is".

His tone was one of an exhausted teacher trying to explain something complex to a particularly slow student. "I had it looked at a few months ago in a hospital, but sure they didn't tell me anything that I didn't already know. The leg is bad and that's that. Getting help won't do me any good because it won't make my leg any younger." He chuckled to himself and at this remark and Lucy was relieved to see the colour returning to his cheeks.

The noise of the water boiling rose loudly in the silent room. Pa looked out the window, but his stare seemed to go miles beyond the wall to places only he could see. When the kettle switch automatically shut off to indicate the water had boiled, Pa looked at Lucy and offered her tea.

"Thank-you. I would love some" she said.

He took two mugs from the tray on the table and put a tea bag in each one then poured the boiling water on top until each one was three quarter way full. He muttered something about milk and went to get up, but Lucy said "please, I'll get it".

When their orange pekoe tea was brewed Lucy spoke. "They're fine boys you have running the shop for you" she said cheerfully.

"The best" Pa answered proudly. "They're hard working lads, and they've had their own troubles, but I still have to give a talking to them every now and then. It wasn't easy after 'Trish died, especially when those boys were so young." Pa opened a tin of Cadbury's biscuits and passed it to her. After she took one, he left the tin open between them.

"I'm sorry for your loss" Lucy said "how did you manage?"

It was very hard on all of us. The boys had just turned twenty-one and hadn't a clue about looking after themselves.

"Oh, I see" Lucy said trying to hide her surprise. She thought the boys being young had meant they were toddlers, not men.

"We weren't what you would call the domestic type" he informed her "and couldn't make head nor tail of washing and cooking and all the things that 'Trish did without us even noticing".

Lucy thought she detected a note of guilt in his tone about how it took his wife's death to realize the extent of her contribution to the household.

"I was always in the shop and 'Trish in the house, and that's the way things were back then. She was such a great woman; always around just when you needed her.....and....when she wasn't looking after things here she was off helping others in the community." Talking about his deceased wife seemed difficult for him, but like his leg he tried to hide the pain associated with the lingering emotions that occur when one is left behind by a loved one.

"Anyway, after 'Trish died" he continued "I couldn't manage the business and the house, so for a finish I had to get in Mrs. Cleary to do the housekeeping. A good job too, because there wasn't a clean sock to be had between the three of us!" Pa chuckled again to himself then went to get up to fill the kettle for more tea. Lucy immediately rose up saying she'd take care of the tea this time, and within a few minutes they were sipping on the refills. She thought that maybe it would be best to veer towards the subject of Hannah, which hopefully would be easier on the old man's emotions. As they silently sipped away Lucy took the opportunity to ask the questions burning in her heart.

"How well did you know Hannah?"

"Hannah" he said after a long contemplative pause "as I mentioned at the funeral home, I worked in her father's creamery for a short time. We lived nearby and my father, who was an accountant, thought I should learn what manual labour was like, just in case I had any notions of not furthering my studies. I didn't protest his decision at all, not out of a sense of duty to my father, but because of Hannah. She was the only reason I worked there. And the truth be told, I was in love with her." He shot a glance at Lucy, as if expecting some sort of disapproving reaction, and when none came he continued.

"Well one day, I told her how I felt and she let me know, in that very gentle way of hers, that she didn't love me. Well, needless to say I felt like a prize eegit after that, but being the lady she was, never changed in any way towards me. It was as if I had never made any foolish declaration whatsoever. But working at the creamery was very hard afterwards, and to be honest I felt downright embarrassed staying there. Now my father was not an easy man to stand up to. When he decided something it was as if it was written in stone. Still, I was ready to tell him I wanted to quit working at the creamery rather than see Hannah every day knowing she did not love me. I had built up the courage to announce my decision and accept the consequences, whatever they may be....a thrashing with his belt most likely, but before I got the chance my father announces to me that we were moving to Limerick. And a good job we did too" he said tapping his hand lightly on the table "or I would have never known my 'Trish. A fine woman she was when I saw her for the first time down in Poor Man's Kilkee, below there on the banks of the River Shannon, just beside the Sarsfield Bridge in Limerick.....well....I fell in love...again. Now I may be an old man, but I won't forget that lovely day in May.....and a few years later we got married. The blessings of God on her departed soul" he said making the sign of the cross on his chest as his eyes watered up. Removing a cloth handkerchief from his pocket he wiped his face dry. "You'll meet your love too someday Lucy, if you haven't already done so."

She laughed at this and said that, she hadn't as yet met anybody special, but didn't add that settling down did not appeal to her at all for now.

While you were living in Limerick," Lucy said returning to the subject of her grandmother "did you ever go back to Kilrush afterwards to see Hannah, I mean, before you met your wife that is?"

Pa gave a long sigh "Lucy, you have to understand that shortly after we moved to Limerick, the Black and Tans invaded Ireland, times became very difficult and many, many people's lives were changed forever."

Although Lucy knew her Irish history, it was a well-known fact that few people ever wanted to talk about that particularly turbulent period, even the schools only lightly touched on the subject.

"Do you know what it was like back then?" He asked with a probing look.

"I've heard different things" Lucy replied "but I'd have to say that the whole episode is a bit vague."

"The Black and Tans" Pa explained patiently, "were ex-British soldiers sent over to help the Royal Irish Constabulary officers, or police officers – the R.I.C they were known as back then. Well now, many people disliked them because they were considered to be the eyes and ears of the British in Ireland."

As Pa continued, Lucy learned that The R.I.C. was not prepared for the resistance they encountered from those opposing their presence. Tensions had been rising for some time about Britain's reluctance to allow Home Rule...for the Irish to govern themselves. The Sinn Fein movement which was the driving force for Home Rule and members were known as Sinn Feinners, or Shinners. Tensions continued to escalate, and the day that triggered the war was on the 21st of January 1919, when in Tipperary, two Sinn Feinners killed two RIC officers when they refused to surrender a box of gelignite. Martial law was declared and violence spread. Many RIC officers had to get provisions by holding shopkeepers at gun point because nobody wanted anything to do with them. The RIC were violent and so were the retaliations by the Irish. Under the guidance of Michael Collins the Irish fought fiercely for their independence. Soon RIC officers were resigning their positions owning to the state of things and that's when reinforcements were sent over.

Auxiliaries, or Auxies as they were called, became known as the Black and Tans because of their khaki shirts and dark navy trousers. They invaded Ireland in 1919. Many were World War 1 veterans who had been unable to find regular work after returning from the war. However when the British government offered 10 shillings a day for men to do a dangerous job in Ireland, many signed up.

The Auxies aided the dwindling RIC recruits, but their behaviour was deemed worse than that of the police. Many Irish thought that Britain's army was so stretched it had emptied her jails of hardened criminals, put them in uniform and set them loose. Despite that belief still being held as truth, even today – England did not empty its prisons to make up for a lack of available men. That rumour was started by members of the Sinn Fein movement who were expert propagandists. Some Auxies were good men, who managed to befriend and even help the people of their assigned village or town. But other Auxies were known for their brutality, and those who witnessed the rapes, torture and murder of the innocent could not help but think that these men in uniform were ex-convicts.

Explaining about the Tan's seemed to send Pa off into his own thoughts and Lucy didn't want to intrude brusquely into that world. She could see he was struggling with something - memories, of Hannah perhaps? He had confirmed she did not love him, but that information did not reveal if she slit someone's throat. Could she ask if he believed Hannah was capable of doing this without shocking him, or should she exercise prudence? Not many people remained from that period in time and this added a sense of urgency to her quest. Yet his thoughts and memories were his own unseen possessions which could only be divulged if he chose to share them.

"Pa, if you don't feel up to talking about all of this, I'll understand." She waited a moment but he did not reply. It was as if he hadn't heard her. Just as she was about to try another tactic he said in a whisper "Hannah, was particularly hard hit."

"How"? Lucy asked slowly although she felt she could gobble every word he said "what did you hear"?

He became silent again and rubbed his face hard, but Lucy could see moisture around his eyes. His silence prevailed and she felt him closing up against the world.

"Pa, I really need to find the truth about what Hannah experienced".

He slowly pushed away his cup of tea; his regard coming back to the present and his voice strong, as if he had decided something.

"The trouble with the passage of time is that the truth becomes altered and facts become blurred. I'm afraid much of what can be told today about that period in time could be unreliable information."

Lucy felt her hope for information slipping away. "Pa, what happened to Hannah: please tell me. "!

"What good will knowing about her do you?" he asked earnestly. "Will it change how you see her? Will it change what she was to you?"

"Never" Lucy answered quietly "nothing can ever change my feelings about Hannah. That is untouchable, and no matter what I learn of her past, I'll love her always".

"Then you're a good child" Pa answered, his voice trembling. "But tell me what good will it do going after something that's so painful it has long been buried? The time of the Tans was terrible for us and trying to get people to talk about that is not a good idea. Mark my words on that"

"Really, if this is too difficult for you now, maybe I can come back another time when you feel up to talking about it or maybe you can give me the name of someone who could tell me about her."

"No" he replied defiantly.

"Why?" she pleaded.

"Because" he said wearily "it'll dreg up memories of events that you may regret even hearing about. It will cause you to see horrors that we've tried hard to forget."

Lucy looked hard at Pa and said "If you know something about Hannah, not a rumor now, but the truth, I really need to know. You can tell me Pa. I will not utter a word of what you tell me to another soul. I will swear to that".

She felt guilty for reacting so strongly, but she couldn't help feeling like this man had everything she wanted to know in his head; he just couldn't let it go.

"Believe me", she said firmly "I am well able to handle whatever I learn. Just tell me. Please."

He looked away. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Finally he turned to her and shook his head "I really can't help you Lucy. I'm very sorry" Then with some difficulty he got up off the chair, took his cane and headed for the door.

"Well, do you know someone who could?

Pa thought for a moment and said "I heard about a nurse, Babby Murphy, she might be able to help you."

"Where would I find her?"

"Last I heard, she lived in Ennis and had worked for some time at the General Hospital there; but I'm not certain of that, but it's all I can give you."

Lucy got up and walked to where the old stooped man stood.

"Thanks very much Pa; I'll take what I can."

"Lucy" he said grabbing her arm "don't be surprised if you're given the cold shoulder; people don't easily gab about those days. T'was a very dark time for Ireland back then."

Lucy nodded, gave Pa a hug and went to leave.

"Hannah was a beautiful person" Pa choked "but she was very hard headed and there were some that didn't like that in a woman.....not back then anyway. But I wouldn't be telling anybody I said that now. Some people 'round here wouldn't understand that kind of thing." He stood there frowning, as if expecting a denial to this request

She observed his tense stance and knew he needed to be reassured that their conversation would remain private. "My lips are sealed, Pa. I promise you that."

A fleeting look of surprise crossed his wrinkled face and the doubt he had been harboring was erased. "Grand then" he said lightly while fumbling with the knob of the door "now, will you take a bit of meat with you before you go?"

Lucy thought again about her fridge that was still packed with Nora's food "that's very kind of you, but people have been feeding me no end since Hannah passed away, I'll never get through the amount of food I have."

"Sure a small bit won't harm you. Go on".

When she declined gratefully a second time he relented. "Not to worry," he said "I'll have some for you the next time."

She passed through the opening in the counter and said goodbye to Pa. "I'll keep in touch".

She nodded good bye to the twins and as she headed out of the butchers she heard one of the twins ask "are you okay Dad?"

She didn't hear the reply, but could just imagine what was said.

It was only 2.30 in the afternoon when she walked across the Town Square. The Market was finishing up for the day now, and most people were busy packing away their remaining goods, counting their earnings and cleaning up left over rubbish. The sun was somewhat obscured by clouds but the temperature was still warm and with the gentle breeze she was tempted to walk down to the nearby beach. She checked her watch and also contemplated driving to Ennis to find Babby Murphy, but she had promised Nora her presence at the little ceremony for Hannah at the Tea House. Deciding to forego the beach and Ennis today, she unlocked the car got inside and took off her shoes. While enjoying the glorious feeling of air swirling around her toes she thought it would be best to first go home, shower and change clothes. The day had been warm and she had been overdressed which equaled a slightly malodorous body. Plus, she was ravenous.

One hour and ten minutes later, after pulling into the driveway and cutting the engine, she scooped up her jacket and other belongings then headed inside with an urgent need to pee. While trying to put the key in the lock - with one leg tightly twisted around the other as the final barrier against total loss of bladder control - everything slipped out of her hands and fell to the floor. Swearing aloud, she left them and dashed upstairs to answer nature's call. Minutes later, and much relieved, she returned to the porch, picked up her things and froze at the sight of another white envelope lying on the floor. Taking it with trembling fingers, she quickly opened it, removed the note inside and to her horror saw the same handwriting as the last note except the wording was slightly different:

"Hannah Moore, loving grandmother and ruthless killer. May she never rest in peace.

Chapter 3. Shadowed

"And that was the second one you received?" he asked softly, his eyes gently probing the young woman's face. There was nothing in her facial expressions that would denote fear or worry, but her fingers nervously twisting the strap of her handbag belied her true state of mind.

"Yes," she replied almost inaudibly then quickly cleared her throat to readjust the volume of her voice. "Excuse me." She repeated more loudly" Yes, this afternoon was the second time."

Kevin Hartnett of the Henry Street Garda station in Limerick's city center nodded his understanding then glanced briefly at his colleague Jo Williams seated at another desk just beside him. They were in one of several compact, sparsely furnished interview rooms, the configuration of which was meant to give the interviewee the impression their every move was being scrutinized as they were seated at a slight distance between both officers' desks. Two state-of-the-art security cameras operated at opposite ends of the room registering the entire interview.

Although he was in the twelfth and final hour of his five a.m. to five p.m. shift, the fatigue he had been feeling earlier was dissipating rapidly as he studied with an ever growing curiosity both mysterious notes left anonymously for the young woman before him. With gloved hands, he held the notes up to the light and observed how ordinary they appeared. Hand written on cheap vellum, which could be found in any book store, supermarket, or corner shop, the attached script in blue ink was written with what appeared to be a considerably shaky hand. Either that or the person had written on an uneven surface, but to be sure of this he would have to have them analyzed by a graphologist.

Lucy Courtney had been talking for ten minutes now, explaining the circumstances surrounding her receiving the anonymous notes, and although her demeanor did not appear overtly alarmed in any way she appeared uneasy, and was obviously spooked enough to want to report it.

He took the time to scrutinize both notes again, but couldn't interpret anything indicating that her personal safety was in question. Someone obviously had information about her deceased grandmother and was letting her know it. Perhaps this was a prelude to blackmail, although Lucy didn't seem wealthy enough to qualify as an extortion victim.

Intrigued, Hartnett rubbed at the stubble on his chin. At twenty five years of age, Kevin had been a police officer for three years now and most of his work, so far, had involved arrests for everything from robbery to murder. Not that he investigated murders yet, but becoming detective was priority number one on his list of career goals to achieve. His evaluations, so far, had been excellent and the feedback he was hearing was that he was on the right track to being detective Kevin Hartnett.

Jo, who had finished writing her notes on what Miss Courtney had recounted began asking more probing questions that might provide further details of the events leading up to her having received the first note, Kevin listened and observed intently to everything being said.

Jo was great at extracting the minute details, which in the past had often been of enormous significance to a case and led to convictions. Kevin learned a lot from her and would be sorry to see her go. Head Quarters in Dublin would be gaining all the more for her presence there.

After signaling that she had finished questioning the young lady, Kevin sat forward to speak when all of a sudden Lucy stood-up, took her coat and bag in one hand and said with a tone of exasperation "look, I'm sorry I took up your time like this. It was silly of me to come here; these notes are probably nothing at all. It has just been a waste of everybody's time and it's probably no more than a nasty practical joke of some sort."

He was surprised at how flustered she had suddenly become and wondered what had caused her to want to leave. He observed her as she searched for something in her bag and thought she was beautiful in an unpolished, natural way. Her long, straight red hair had fallen into her face and for some reason, she appeared to be blushing. The reddening of her cheeks seemed to accentuate her piercing green eyes and he felt she was a person he would enjoy looking at and spending time with.

"There they are" she said hastily fishing a bunch of keys from the bottom of her handbag.

As she walked past him, he stood up and opened the door. "Nobody's time is wasted here" he said gently. "Please" he gestured to Lucy to have a seat. When she hesitated he continued patiently "this person has given you information twice. I believe he, or she will eventually want to talk with you."

"You do?" she said biting her lip.

"Yes" he said with conviction "I believe this person may be angry about something, and will want to tell you why they are angry." When he gestured once more to the seat, she returned to the chair, albeit on the edge, and was once again sitting between both officers.

"But I don't know of anybody who could be angry with me!"

"Well maybe not with you, but what about your grandmother? Did she have any enemies, or people who owed her a debt perhaps?"

Before she could answer his question the cell phone in his holder vibrated loudly. He raised an index finger to excuse himself. "Hartnett" he answered curtly. "Oh, yes. Hello" he said awkwardly glancing at Jo who just rolled her eyes and went back to checking her notes. "I can't talk now, but I'll call you....that's right I did call you earlier......about tonight... how about... The Windmill?...Look can I call you back....It's not that bad... I dunno. Well, I always thought it was a nice place. Grand then...8.30. it is. Okay, bye." He hung up and cleared his throat for a moment. "Sorry", he said "I was saying...yes..your grandmother, did she have enemies?

"No" Lucy said without hesitation, "nobody had any problem with Hannah because she was a sweet, gentle person who helped others as much as she could. She owned and operated her own little shop, a tea house, for fifty five years."

"Really? He asked. In the city center here?"

"Yes, on Little Catherine Street" Lucy replied.

"Hanny's Tea House?" He enquired surprised "the one with the great fireplace".

"That's the one" she said smiling.

"Great place! And great cakes too! Do you bake them?"

"No" Lucy almost laughed "that would be Nora. She's the expert."

"Myself and the lads often go there on our tea break. It's always packed too. But, I've never seen you there."

Jo shot him a look and he quickly got back to the task at hand. "Right, so you were saying that Hannah never received threats of any kind."

Lucy thought for a moment "I really can't say I have ever known of one person who had any kind of conflict with her. Anyway, Hannah hated confrontations or disputes of any kind and avoided them at all costs."

"Did Hannah have a will?

"Yes, but everything is already sorted out."

There was some finality to the way she had just said that and Hartnett thought this might be a point of entry to this mystery.

"Were there any relatives unhappy or grumbling after the reading of the will? He continued.

She suddenly seemed uncomfortable and shifted in her chair. "No. No problems at all."

He detected she was not telling him the whole truth. "You're sure nobody was discontent because they didn't get a teapot or family heirloom, or property they were expecting?"

She shifted again in her chair and fiddled with a strand of hair but said nothing. He decided to wait it out. After a moment when she said nothing, he asked "did you inherit from Hannah"?

"Yes"

"What exactly did you inherit?"

"Her house and her business. Well technically her business, The Tea House."

"What do you mean technically?"

"Well, Hannah wanted Nora Clancy, her friend and long-time employee to have it, but knew she wouldn't accept it because that's her nature, she's too proud. The only way to get around the problem was for me to inherit it and then convince Nora that I couldn't manage the place and hand it over to her. So that's why legally it's in my name, but it is really Nora's now. She just doesn't know it yet.

"So you haven't handed it over to Nora yet?"

Lucy looked confused. "No. Why are you asking me.....you don't think Nora did this?

"Why not?"

"Well, because she is incapable of doing any such thing!" Lucy's tone was one of shock.

"So, why haven't you handed it over to Nora?" He continued neutrally.

"The papers are being processed as we speak and she will have it imminently". Then with a hint of sarcasm she continued "we've been kind of busy what with the wake, funeral, and reception afterwards."

He ignored her comment and asked "did you inherit anything else?"

"Only what my grandmother had from my late grandfather.

"So nobody else got anything only you! How do the others feel about that?

"I don't understand" she said looking at both officers. "What others?"

Kevin scoffed slightly "what others! C'mon surely someone else besides you and Nora mattered enough to your grandmother for her to add them to her will!!!

There was nobody else!" Her tone was mounting now.

"What! Not one other person? He persisted, his own tone changing somewhat. "How come you're the only one to whom Hannah bequeathed her possessions? That must mean there are some unhappy brothers, sisters, cousins and whatnot out there vying for some of those possessions.

"I'm the bloody last of kin!!!!!!" she said sharply.

A long pregnant silence hung in the air as each person looked at each other in surprise.

"There are no other relatives" she said softly after a moment. "Only me."

"Nobody else?" he asked in slight disbelief.

"Just myself" she repeated sighing heavily.

Kevin Hartnett thought that having no relatives was incredible! He didn't know of anybody who had no aunts or uncles or even cousins twice and three times removed. In his own family, he had five brothers, three sisters, two parents, and both sets of grandparents, not to mention numerous other relatives. Sunday lunch at his house was not for the faint of heart. Jo, his colleague beside him had only one brother, but had countless cousins and was at one of their weddings every other week.

"Not even distant relatives here or abroad?" he continued incredulous.

"No" she said rolling her eyes "I'm a bloody endangered species, on the brink of extinction okay! I was the only hope for my lineage, but from where I stand now, it isn't looking very good thanks to a bloody defective gene pool".

Jo burst out laughing, but stopped suddenly when she caught Kevin's look. He cleared his throat "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to offend."

"I'm not offended" she retorted defensively.

Kevin figured he had hit a major sore spot. "Anyway" he went on awkwardly pointing at the notes "It's best to be cautious about this person's intentions".

"Look," Lucy said rising from the edge of the chair "I'm not afraid of this person, at all" she said with conviction. "Neither my grandmother nor I have harmed anyone."

"Right Miss Courtney, but...I must warn...."

"Really, I'm not afraid" she interrupted "I'm well able to look after myself. I just thought I had better report this to the police because it's strange, that's all. I can tell you now though, I'm sorry I bothered coming down here at all!"

He sat there observing the behavior and reactions she had manifested since the interview began and the only conclusion he could come to was this young woman, who suddenly found herself alone with her problems, was downright scared to bits.

"Right, absolutely" he said deciding to divert the conversation back from what had her upset, to the actual notes. "I'm terribly sorry about this. I think you certainly did the right thing reporting this to us. "Now, if you'll just sign down here on this official statement" he said taking Jo's version of the story and pointing to the bottom of the paper "your full name in block letters, your signature, age address, telephone number and occupation please.

"Occupation? She asked while looking over the statement. Which one should I indicate?"

"Well didn't you say you worked at the tea house?"

"I do, but I spend most of my time with the IRCG. I've been a volunteer for two years now".

"The IRCG?" Jo asked puzzled.

"The Irish Coast Guard" Lucy replied. "We have a ten member team, all voluntary and operating from Limerick. It's a fun job, but it requires you to be on-call twenty four hours a day, seven days a week."

"Not much time for a social life then?" Kevin asked, but immediately regretted it afterwards.

Lucy felt her face turning red and quickly filled in the necessary information then signed the statement.

He took the document, places it in a cream colored folder and closed it. "Well thank you Miss Courtney, and if you feel in any danger whatsoever, please call 999".

This indicated the end of the interview. As Lucy made her way out the door, Kevin remembered something. "Oh, Miss Courtney, should you find any other notes, please, don't touch them just call us immediately.

"Mr. Hartnett", she said quietly "I don't think I will" then she checked her watch and left.

Jo turned to Kevin and said exasperatedly "you've been interviewing too many criminals Kev, you're scaring away the victims!"

Kevin, feeling very frustrated at himself returned to his somewhat cluttered desk in an open office area filled with cubicles all of which were separated with tall, beige canvas covered partitions. He felt bad for the way he interviewed Lucy; it hadn't been his intention to intimidate her, so why had he done exactly what he shouldn't have? Maybe Jo was right; maybe he was interviewing criminals too often and was no longer able to adapt his technique for the victims of crime, or harassment. He felt like a right eegit altogether.

He examined the notes she had received and knew he would love to have the time to delve further into the mystery, but there were more pressing cases than this. He glanced guiltily at the pile of manila colored dossiers on his desk - his current cases, all related to violent crimes committed by local thugs and gang members involved in the drug trade. But intimated witnesses and an impenetrable code of silence were preventing him from making any headway at all, let alone arrests. Still, to prioritize this new case over the pending dossiers would merit him a month of traffic duty.

For the past two months, he and another colleague had been assigned the task of discreetly surveying the thug's activities – not undercover– that was impossible with this crowd, as was infiltration. They were all family members, numerous and tight knit ones at that, but so far he had nothing on them. His surveillance was being conducted from an unmarked car, a vehicle which the Sergeant himself had chosen. Kevin chuckled to himself as he remembered how the Sarge, before presenting the transport in question, explained how it was important to blend into the disadvantaged area he would be working in; it was important not to stand out. Well given the sorry excuse for a car he was now driving, he was standing out for all the wrong reasons. Last week alone, he had to be boosted twice. So, in his wreck of a vehicle he was trying to follow violent thugs around various areas of the city while noting where they stopped, whom they spoke to and the type of contact they made with others. Of course it was all alleged drug dealing and money laundering now, there was nothing solid enough that would survive a court case, even though his notebook was almost full of names, addresses, and drop off points. The thugs were being far too careful and he wondered if they had spotted him, but instinct told him they hadn't, something else was going on and he couldn't let up until he found out what.

Yet, these banal anonymous notes were capturing his attention and pulling him away from the street. The voice of reason inside his head asked him, if it was the girl or the notes which he found captivating. Brushing away such thoughts, he looked over the now plastic covered notes. The words were meant to inform, scare even; the writer appeared to know something about the deceased grandmother, a secret maybe and wanted to divulge the information in this way. Kevin wondered what provoked the writer into revealing this information now and not before the grandmother died. He sighed softly as he passed his hand over his cropped black hair, he would need a graphologist or profiler's expertise to answer some questions, as analyzing the intricacies of the note was something only the Special Branch division in Dublin could do; a pointless act for something like this. He would be waiting many months for a report because there was nothing specifically threatening in them that could warrant further investigation. However, if she received another threat of some sort maybe then he could push for analysis, but given the work load he had now, even at that, he would probably have to put her file at the bottom of the pile and leave it at that.

*

A long time after Lucy left the police station she was still feeling totally stupid for having reported the notes. What had possessed her to go there in the first place? The officer, Hartnett had been nice and sweet....very sweet at first. In fact she couldn't help noticing he had lovely soft pouty lips, broad shoulders, short black hair and lovely blue eyes all perfectly etched into a handsome face...."Knock it off" she admonished herself "he turned out to be an ass." Looking back on it now, it had been foolish going to the police. "Not a smart thing to do" she told herself "not a smart thing to do at all." Of course it didn't help that he thought having no family whatsoever was something totally unheard of. It even took him a long moment to recover from that news. Lucy felt she could have been more tolerant about his reaction. But instead of understanding something like that she had once again over reacted. "You twit Courtney!" she admonished herself. "But he was a twit too!"

She continued to chide herself for part of the drive home, and stopped only when she pulled into the Crescent Shopping Center. Placing a euro into the slot under the trolley handle, she pushed her cart into the shopping complex. After picking up some groceries and cheesecake she thought of treating herself to something nice, so despite having overspent, she stopped off at the sports shop and picked up a pink Fila top that had caught her eye some weeks earlier. Taking her size off the rack, she quickly made her way to the cash and waited her turn to be served. After quickly paying Jane, the sales assistant who knew her from all the times she shopped there, she picked up her purchase and left.

The local kids had set up a soccer game at the entrance to the cul-de-sac, and she waited until they were all on the footpath before continuing on to her house. After turning off the engine, a twinge of fear crossed through her. The thoughts of receiving another note terrified her, so she peered cautiously out of the car window to see if there were any more white envelopes lying on the ground. Seeing none, she got out of the car, picked up her bags and struggled to the small porch. The phone rang just as she was turning the key in the door, and thinking it might be Mags and the gang, abandoned everything on the doorstep rushed to the living room to take the call.

"Hello" she said slightly out of breath.

"Lucy!" Nora said worriedly. "Are you all right? Did something happen to you?

"No" Lucy said oblivious to the reason Nora was asking this.

"Then could you tell me" came the disappointed voice over the phone "why didn't you come to your Nana's ceremony?"

"Oh Nora!" Lucy said realizing she had completely forgotten her promise to be there. "I'm so sorry. I...I..I just couldn't get there. I am really sorry Nora". Lucy didn't want to mention the notes, or the fact that she had been to the police.

"Well a lot of people were expecting you to be here" Nora said crossly.

Lucy could tell that Nora was disappointed, but they knew each other far too long now to be worried that this would affect their friendship. Still, she would have to come up with something to justify her absence.

"I just couldn't make it" Lucy said guiltily.

Nora began speaking, but Lucy stopped listening, some noise in the hallway had caught her attention. She removed the phone from her ear and listened intently. There it was again, a thumping noise! Lucy suddenly felt scared.

"Am....Nora I'm going to have to call you back. I'm sorry." She hung up to Nora's protests and made her way to the living room door. With her heartbeat loudly thumping, she craned her neck to peer down the hallway, but there was nothing there only the pile of groceries left on the doorstep and an open door, reminders of her haste to answer the phone. Feeling silly for having been spooked, she walked down the hall, brought in her bags, closed the front door and locked it just to ease her palpitating heart. Walking back to the kitchen, Lucy decided she would have to start copping on and stop being so bloody jumpy. After putting away her groceries and tidying the kitchen she decided to have a quick shower and change her clothes before consoling her soul with some fresh strawberry cheesecake; a heavy supper didn't appeal to her, so cake along with the remainder of the whipped cream would do very nicely indeed. Afterwards she would call Nora back and apologize for missing the ceremony and head over to the tea house tomorrow for a chat.

A little later on she made her way from the kitchen with a DVD propped under her arm, a tray filled with an oversized piece of cake, and a big mug brimming with tea in her hands. She awkwardly pushed against the living room door with one foot to open it when suddenly something brushed up hard against her leg and she screamed as she dropped the tray in fright. Terrified, she looked behind her and saw a big chocolate Labrador dog wagging its tail at her.

"Podger!!!!!" she shrieked. "You menace! How in God's name did you get in here"?

Oblivious to the scare, her neighbor's dog proceeded to wag his tail vigorously now that Lucy had noticed him.

"You, silly, silly mutt" she said rubbing him gently behind the ears. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

His tail thudded rhythmically on the door and he barked once to make his state of contentment known. "Look at this mess, Mister?" Podger momentarily observed the cake and cream on the tiled floor, sniffed it and immediately started to lick it all up.

She went to the kitchen and brought back a roll of kitchen paper. "I suppose you sneaked in when the door was open" Lucy continued admonishing him gently. The dog momentarily interrupted his slurping fest to glance at Lucy wagging his tail all the while.

After cleaning up what was left of the cheesecake and tea, she escorted him to the house next door.

"The prodigal dog has returned, Mr. Short" she said smiling at her neighbor who, like his wife, always looked like he was permanently dressed to play golf. His expensive clothes suited his silver hair, tanned skin and relaxed expression.

"Oh no, not again Lucy" he said slapping his cheek in mock dismay.

"Yes! And, I'm afraid there's no need to slay the fattened calf, he's already had a supper of cheesecake and whipped cream which will probably wreak havoc on his digestive system."

Mrs. Short came out to see what was happening. "Lewcy", she called in her forced British accent "how lovelay to see yew. Won't you come in; it's starting to get chillay again."

Lucy thanked her but declined the offer; she didn't feel like going over, in excruciating detail, the Short's latest golf game in whatever place was "in" this year. Instead she remained outside and conversed about their respective gardens, which was only slightly less painful than the golf analysis. There wasn't much to discuss about Lucy's garden, it was all cropped grass and weeds, nothing more; whereas the Shorts' was akin to the Botanical gardens. They had just planted some unpronounceable thing in the sunniest corner of the back garden, and Lucy was invited to come through to see it in all its glory. When they all stood before it Mr. Short proudly exclaimed

"I give you Planta Plantare".

Lucy could not help noticing how it looked very much like a cannabis plant! She didn't say as much, but remarked at how nice it will look in a couple of months' time. They spent another ten minutes going over planting stories of some of the other less dubious items in the back garden before returning to the front garden. The topics of conversation soon became laborious, covering even the farmer's predictions of the up-coming summer and that's where Lucy felt it was time to go back to her own house.

"I'm so sorry again about the dog" Mr. Short said as he slapped his thigh for Podger to come "he just seems to consider your house an extension of his own!"

"Well" Lucy said as she rubbed Podgers ears when he approached "he's lucky he's not only cute, but usually well behaved or I wouldn't have him over at all." Mr. Short laughed at this, called his dog in and bade Lucy good evening.

She returned to her house realizing she had, once again, left the front door wide open. "Memo to self: Be more safety conscious." Once inside she bolted the door behind her and went straight to the kitchen to get something else to eat, but as she put her hand on the fridge door a sudden spasm of fear cascaded over her. There taped to the smaller door of the freezer section was a familiar white envelope and written in a deep red liquid were the words

"Hannah Moore's spawn will die".

Blood drained from her face as she stared disbelievingly at the words of hate. The note hadn't been there just a while ago, of that she was sure. Milliseconds later it dawned on her that someone had gotten inside her house. Someone entered her house to deliver it this time. Her breathing began to accelerate, "oh God!" she thought "they could still be in the house! Looking around in alarm, she felt at a loss as to where to turn first. Eyeing the phone, she remembered the guard's words to call her if anything about the notes changed. She didn't want to wait around to make the call. Her eyes darted to the back door in the kitchen but she decided against going out that way. Instead she grabbed her car keys on the kitchen counter ran down the hall, unbolted the door with trembling hands, slammed it behind her, and after fumbling to open her car door, took off speeding down the road.

*

Kevin Hartnett looked at his watch and guessed he was being stood up. Now that he thought about it the girl he had arranged to meet hadn't sounded keen about going to a pub at all.

'Blast it,' he thought to himself, 'she could have told him that she wasn't interested'. There was nothing wrong with the Windmill; it was great as pubs go. He should know, his best friend Mick Barnes, owned it and Kevin had been his very first customer; that was a few years ago. The place had a homely feel about it and the atmosphere was always great. He had even helped make the semi circled mahogany counter he was leaning on right now, as well as helping to lay the matching floors that gave the place a clean and fresh look; the dowdy, used carpet that had been in place when Mick had bought it off its previous owner had made the place feel old and unwelcoming. The seating areas were a mixture of mahogany and plush beige upholstery that added to the relaxed, inviting ambiance which made the Windmill pub such a great place to socialize. Located on Shannon Street, the pub was at a very central point for people coming from either end of the city. Like most pubs though, it had its own regulars and new clientele were usually to be found in there on a weekend night.

He took another sip of the creamy Guinness he was nursing and glanced at the door for the fortieth time. There wasn't going to be much socializing tonight if the new recruit at the Barracks wasn't even going to show up. Maybe he had mixed up the signal she had sent him. Looking at his watch one more time he decided he had waited long enough, took a long swill of his drink, and finished it off. "Good luck Mick" he called to his friend who was busy serving a round of pints to a group enjoying an extended happy hour, "I'll see you for the match tomorrow" he called as he headed for the door.

Once outside, he zipped up his thick leather jacket against the cold damp night air and was just about to head home when he found himself looking at a face he recognized from earlier that day, but something about it seemed very wrong.

"Mr. Hartnett" she said trembling considerably "I'm sorry to disturb, I know I said...I wouldn't tell you if I got another one.. b..but I knew you were going to be here....I overheard you saying you'd be here tonight. I hope I'm not intruding. I don't....I don't know if you remember me. I...spoke...

"Yes, of course, he said, gently interrupting; she seemed to be having some difficulty articulating "you're Lucy Courtney, I remember your statement from earlier today."

He didn't say he remembered being a right bastard towards her as well. She looked too shook up for that. Her face was extremely pale, her eyes were red as if she had been crying, and on such a cold night, she stood there shivering, wearing only a short sleeved pale blue blouse and jeans – nothing else.

"What happened Lucy? He asked, hoping it was nothing too serious. "Did you receive another note?" He saw her eyes close momentarily and she whispered "yes" as tears ran down her face and fell from her chin.

"Do you want to go down to the station and tell me what happened?"

She nodded no, causing her sleek red hair to fall in her face. He couldn't blame her not wanting a repeat of the afternoon she had had with him.

"I came.. Mr. Hartnett... to talk to you" she said wiping away the tears and hair from her face. "....you told me to tell you if another.....I remember...you told me......"

He realized she was in a state of mild shock; something had obviously changed about the notes. Against all regulations he said "look, do you want to go inside, you need something to warm you up." She looked at the pub door and nodded. Kevin pulled open the door and they headed straight for the bar. "Mick, a special hot toddy please" he called to his friend "and a pint". Mick looked surprised for a moment when he saw Kevin return having just left then he noticed Lucy, gave a thumb's up to his friend and began preparing the "cure".

"Mick here's a friend of mine" Kevin said lightly "makes the best cures in the country. He certainly has cured me of my ailments on more than one occasion; I'm convinced he's a descendant of Biddy Early." Mick heard this and chuckled lightly saying that Kevin needed to have his head examined then he placed the steaming hot drink on the counter in front of her. Kevin watched as Lucy sipped the hot beverage and thought he would probably be fired on the spot for violating numerous regulations, but he could hardly have just left her out there in shock. She remained silent for about five minutes, continuing to sip the whiskey, boiling water and sugar mix, topped with a lemon wedge and fresh cloves.

"Thank you Mr. Hartnett" she said, the color finally returning to her cheeks.

"It's Kevin, please" he said softly.

"I'm so sorry about coming here. I just lost it. I became so scared, that I didn't know what to do."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I had to find you and tell you that I not only got another note, but this time, whoever it is, managed to put it in my kitchen inside my house. To top it all some words appeared to have been written in blood."

Kevin saw tears well up in her eyes again and all of a sudden he just wanted to hold her and protect her. He wanted to tell her that nobody would ever lay a finger on her because he wouldn't let them. Then he told himself to get a grip this was a police matter not a date!

He asked her specific questions, more gently this time and Lucy managed to explain everything that happened from the time she came home from Kilrush until she had dropped off Podger. Kevin didn't write anything down; he didn't need to, he wouldn't forget. They talked for a long time unaware of the comings and goings around them. Kevin explained how they could proceed now that there was a change not only in the wording of the notes, but also in the way they were being delivered. He told her he would go and check the house and the note, and get back to her about it.

By the time she had finished her second Hot Toddy, Lucy's cheeks were rosy and she stifled a yawn. Kevin realized she must be feeling tired after the effect of the shock wore off.

"It's been a rough evening" he said "do you have someone you could stay with tonight?" she hesitated for a moment then replied yes, but Kevin wasn't sure she was telling the truth.

"Well can I take you to where you will be staying?" he asked.

"I'm fine really" she said getting off the bar stool. "I'll manage by myself."

Kevin sighed after remembering once again that she was alone. "You're going back to the house aren't you? You're not going to stay with anybody."

"I'll get the neighbor's dog in for the night. At least I'll feel safer that way, but thank you so much for your help. I am very grateful to you."

"Well I'll feel better once I've checked the house for you and I'll take the note in for analysis too.

They went outside together and Lucy immediately began to shiver from the cold. He removed his jacket and went to place it around her shoulders. But she declined his chivalrous gesture.

"I'm fine thanks, honestly."

He felt really silly because he had not wanted her to think he fancied her, which he did. But now wasn't the time nor the place for that. "Are you parked far?" he asked placing his jacket across his arm.

"Just across the street, there. Mine's the silver Opal."

They hurried to her car. Lucy paused as she unlocked her car door, "where's your car?

"I'm afraid I don't drink and drive, so technically I'm without wheels."

"Then we'll take my car, although, I didn't even bring my license with me, so technically I shouldn't be driving."

"I won't give you a fine this time" he smiled. "But I'll note that you have been warned, so I'll do the driving, if you don't mind?"

"It's safer that way" she replied shivering.

He placed his jacket over her shoulders and this time she accepted it when he advised "keep this on you until you get home, or you'll be hypothermic".

After adjusting the seat and mirrors to his height Kevin drove away from the pub towards Raheen. Lucy asked if he was disappointed that the person he was to meet hadn't turned up.

"No" he answered directly without elaborating. He didn't want to discuss that he had been stood up.

With hardly any traffic on the roads they turned onto the street less than ten minutes later, but by-passed the cul-de-sac.

"What are we doing?" Lucy asked quietly.

"I don't think it's a good idea to just land on the doorstep. I'd prefer to check the place first. Give me your house keys and wait here until I give you the all clear."

Lucy watched as Kevin crossed the small field beside the fairy fort and disappeared around the back of the house. If he was going to check the place, she hoped to God she had picked up her knickers off the bathroom floor.

Kevin was surprised by the emptiness of her home –the bare necessities were all she had. The living room had one patio chair and a TV, while her bedroom looked like a small camp area, without the tent. Was this the way she lived permanently? The bathroom contained one towel, a bathrobe and a black thong, which did nothing only fuel his desire to see her wearing it. As he descended the stairs and headed out to the garden, he warned himself that he was heading for trouble with this girl because she was affecting him like no other had done before. Ignoring his inner voice he returned to the front door and found Lucy waiting nervously on the porch. She had not stayed in the car, as he had asked, but had driven to the house, parked the car in the driveway and was waiting for the all clear.

"I thought you were to stay in the car" he said checking the street.

She did not reply, but just shrugged her shoulders and followed him into the house.

"Do you have a few plastic sandwich bags?" he asked standing in front of the fridge door and observing the note with his head angled slightly.

"I'm sure I have" Lucy answered, walking over to the drawer near the sink and retrieving a box of them.

"Here" she said handing them to him. He took two, four by four inch bags, placed his hand inside one, gently removed the note without touching anything then placed it inside the other plastic bag. He observed the postcard next to the note and wondered where, or whom it had come from. It showed a beautiful white sandy beach, a clear blue sky and endless ocean. "Nice place" he said turning to Lucy and pointing at the image.

"That's San Antonio in Ibiza" she answered "my friend Sue is working there at the moment."

"And why did you not go?"

"Not my kind of place really."

He nodded at this and said "Well, Lucy, I'll have this note checked for fingerprints and any other substances that could help us to identify the culprit. Your phone number is on the statement, so you'll be hearing from us, but these things do take time. If there's anything in the meantime, call me.

"I will" she said locking the door to the back yard.

"Right then" he said "I had had better go now"

She walked him to the front door then took off his jacket and returned it to him.

"Thank you, I would have froze without it".

"Will you be okay alone?" he asked with concern.

"I'll be fine" she said smiling weakly. "Podger will be out in the garden shortly, so I'll just haul him in here and promote him to night watchdog. But thank you again for your understanding and your help."

"For nothing" he said and turned to walk away.

"I just need to ask you one thing" she called as he reached the front door. "Why did you react that way earlier on today when I said I had no family?"

He smiled and said "I really want to apologize about that. You see I come from a family that's as numerous as the Waltons. Having no relatives is something I didn't think young people could experience, and I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

Lucy found herself standing closer to him now looking up into his deep blue eyes. There was serenity in them that washed over her like a gentle ocean wave breaking on the shore. She could never feel uncomfortable around him, and a part of her wanted to hold him and kiss his lips on the spot. Instead she suddenly blushed a deep red.

"You don't have a way to get home" she gushed, feeling relieved to have something to say instead of standing there turning shades of scarlet. "Let me call a taxi for you, or take my car if you'd like".

He laughed heartily. "You'd let me drive off in your car, just like that?"

"Yes, I would" she replied truthfully.

"Then I should really be worried for your safety if you're that trusting."

"Well it's not like I don't know where you work or anything, Kevin. I could find you fairly quickly if need be. But I don't believe you'd be the type to make off with a person's car"

He stopped after opening the front door and as Lucy looked up at him, he felt compelled to lean over and kiss her, but that would not be appropriate at all. They looked at each other for a long moment and whatever chemistry was developing between them, it did not feel like the right moment for anything to happen.

"So, what's it to be, my car or a taxi?" she asked rubbing her arms against the cold.

"Ah no, I'm grand Lucy. I'll make my own way home. Well, goodnight then" he said to her and waited until she closed the door behind her. Kevin Hartnett smiled to himself as he made his way down the small cul-de-sac; he would be making getting to the bottom of this mystery a number one priority.

From behind the high hedge in the fairy fort a man watched Lucy close her door and her male visitor leave. He had her scared; that was good, she had every reason to be scared, the bitch.

Chapter 4. A Lamb to the Slaughter

The collection at Sunday mass in Moneen church, Kilbaha, had just begun and Stan Considine, the aged, but dutiful collector, was placing the basket momentarily in front of each person seated in the rows of pews. This was part of his 5 p.m. dominical service which he had been a part of for many years. He started out as an altar boy at the age of nine, and although he had long outgrown his smock, he continued to contribute a little of his time by helping with the various demands of a small community church. However, the only problem with this particular task was the offering from one particular member of the congregation, Babby. Her donation was neither coins nor legal tender but a large meal prepared fresh that morning and wrapped in a mid-sized sealable plastic tub. The recipient of this small feast was the parish curate, Father Tom, whom Babby considered to be in constant need of nutrition because he didn't officially have a house keeper to look after him. Despite Father Tom kindly telling her that, at thirty two years of age, he was well able to look after himself, she still took it upon herself to be his unauthorized cook, and without fail every Sunday provided him with a special lunch. She would donate the lunch into the collection basket, and Stan was supposed to give her the empty container from the previous week's donation. Once the exchange was made Babby feeling her duty was done, was perfectly content. Stan, however, was not, and had tried to convince her to give up her embarrassing offering. When she paid no attention to that, he complained to the priest, but was advised to let her be, after all, she was doing no harm to anybody. Once the collection was over, Stan placed the basket-and plastic tub- at the front of the altar, did a little bow towards the tabernacle and returned sullenly to his seat.

Lucy observed the parishioners of the small congregation as they knelt collectively for the Eucharistic prayer. She had just arrived in the tiny fishing village and sneaked into the last pew just inside the main door. The drive from Limerick was a good two hours long, but the scenery along the way had been breathtaking, as the only road leading to Kilbaha meandered on the edge of the high cliffs that towered majestically over the shores of the Atlantic Ocean.

Although she had never been to Kilbaha before, she had heard of this small church's rich history. Its fame stemming from the ark it still housed. Preserved in an alcove off to the left of the main area, a tall, but compact wooden shelter called the Little Ark of Kilbaha stood as a significant symbol of resistance. Back in 1852, the local landlord was vehemently anti-Catholic and prohibited the celebration of Mass on his estates. His tenants had no way to practice their faith, until a local priest, Father Michael Meehan had an idea about a mobile tabernacle of sorts and had the local carpenter build the Ark. On the days of worship, the ark was wheeled to the foreshore when the Atlantic tide was low. Because the law states that the land between high-water and low-water is no one's private property, Fr. Meehan was able to have mass despite the landlord's opposition. The Ark was used until no longer needed.

As a person who enjoyed just about anything of historic significance, Lucy felt privileged to be sitting in this place that had prevailed through such fierce oppression.

The interior of the church was of a simple décor, save for the elaborate stain-glass windows which depicted the passion of Christ and the intricately embroidered cloth adorning the Altar with the words "the winds and the sea obey him". Meticulous hand work had gone in to their creation and Lucy wondered if they were a local creation.

From the altar, the young curate, Father Tom, looked down on his small, but attentive congregation, and felt sorry for them; he was having a hard job mustering up the usual energy he put into his mass and they surely thought he was a right bore. He couldn't help it; his mind just wasn't on the job at hand. Instead, it was on the coach bus currently on its way to Dublin with more than half the village in it! The whole, lucky lot of them were off to attend the All-Ireland football match between County Kerry and County Clare. It was the match of the decade, the likes of which had been causing fever pitch excitement in the village for weeks now, and he was missing it, him, the Clare team's biggest fan! It was a cross he could hardly bear to carry. For the past two weeks, he had been frantically trying to find somebody to replace him for this particular Sunday mass, but none of his colleagues from any of the parishes around were available. Secretly, he figured it was because they were all off to the match. Anyway, he gave up all hope last Friday after he got a stern call from the Bishop who told him that his duty was first and foremost to his congregation, not football and would he ever stop asking around for a replacement. Father Tom had no choice in the matter, but to declare defeat. The match would have to be viewed, not from the sidelines of the Croagh Park pitch, but from the diminutive thirteen inch television in his living room. He looked up at the crucifix before starting the Eucharistic prayer, and asked firstly for a win for Clare, and secondly for forgiveness for being so unfocused on his religious duties.

When mass ended Lucy followed the small congregation as they left their pews and walked out into the sunny, but windy churchyard. Father Tom, who was standing near the large wooden church doors, was shaking hands and chatting with his parishioners, his vestments flapping wildly in the wind. She hovered nearby and overheard a few comments from the faithful; apparently some were offering their condolences that he wasn't at the match, others were saying that they had been saying Novenas for a win, but everybody had said they were happy the service had been a short one. Short was an understatement! The whole mass from beginning to end was only ten minutes long! The homily had sounded more like a sports report than a biblical analysis. Still, most parishes across the country would have similar experiences; an All-Ireland match was a religion unto itself, and woe to any priest who decided to be too loquacious in his sermon on such an important day.

Stan Considine was handing Father Tom the plastic tub of food that Babby had dropped in the collection basket when Lucy approached.

"Excuse me Father" she said offering a proffered hand "Sorry to interrupt; I'm Lucy Courtney. I'm looking for somebody from this village and I was wondering if perhaps you can help me?"

The priest took Lucy's hand firmly in his and smiled. "Hello Lucy, I'm Tom Byrnes, but around here everybody calls me Father Tom."

"Pleased to meet you" she said as they broke off their hand shake.

"Now" he said looking at her with an air of curiosity. "Who is it you're looking for?"

"Babby Murphy. Do you know her?"

She noticed that as soon as she had mentioned Babby's name, the older man standing beside the curate, rolled his eyes and went back into the church muttering something about a hopeless case.

"You'll have to excuse Stan" Father Tom said apologetically "he's a good man, and a great help around the church, but he cannot get Babby to change her slightly eccentric ways."

"So you know Babby then?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes, I know her" he replied with caution "may I enquire as to why you want to find her?"

Lucy thought it was very gallant of him protecting Babby in this way. After all she could be some crazed murderer out for blood not information.

"Actually, it's to do with my grandmother; she passed away a few days ago and while she was ill, she mentioned Babby. I have a message for her from my Grandmother".

Lying to a priest was not good in Lucy's book, but she had too much to lose by telling him that her grandmother may have slit someone's throat and Babby may know something about that.

"Well" said father Tom "She wasn't always Murphy, that was her married name, but you can find Babby in her cottage on the Shore Road.

Lucy had not been out this way before and had no idea where to go "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know this place very well. How would I get there?"

"Just continue on down the road, turn right. You can't miss it; hers is the last house before the lighthouse."

"Thank you father" she said and once again shook his hand "I hope Clare wins the match."

"Good on ya!" he said excitedly "another Clare supporter; we can use all that we can get.

Finding the cottage on Shore Road was not difficult at all, as this was the last residence before the Atlantic Ocean, and only the still operating lighthouse of Loop Head lay a few hundred meters further up the road on the cliff's edge. Lucy couldn't believe she was finally going to speak with Babby after the difficulty she had in locating her. Lucy had visited Ennis General Hospital several times and talked with many people before she eventually found someone who not only remembered Babby, but could tell her in which village she now resided. She had returned to the family home, where she had been raised as a child.

Lucy pulled in front of the small, but quaint cottage situated at the end of a long stretch of narrow winding road whose low walled borders were covered in long swaying grass giving the impression that a plush green carpet had been laid over the rocks. The house had the most breathtaking view of endless ocean, but at the same time looked extremely isolated. The nearest neighbor had been some way behind, and Lucy figured that living here must feel either very lonesome, or blissfully quiet.

After parking her car in a flat grassy area she headed towards the cottage gate. The strength of the wind was twice what it was back at the church, but it was lovely to feel it envelop her; the smell of the salty ocean producing in Lucy, as it always did, an immediate effect of relaxation. She stood where she was looking at the waves breaking onto the rocks far below, and for one brief moment, she felt at total peace with the world. The sound of a door being opened brought her out of that feeling and back to the task at hand.

Babby appeared at the doorway, wiping her flour covered hands on an old apron and looking at Lucy in confusion.

"Hello dear" she said moving towards Lucy.

"Hello Babby," Lucy replied opening the gate and offering to shake hands as she moved closer.

"Do I know you, dear?" Babby asked now scrutinizing Lucy's face.

"No. We've never met before. My name is Lucy and I think you might have known my grandmother, Hannah Moore?"

Babby's grey hair billowed, and her robust frame seemed to widen as she placed a thick arm on her hip; then her brown eyes widened with surprise, and an expression of pure joy appeared on her face

"Oh Hanny! Well, of course I remember Hanny Moore! I do indeed remember her. How could I ever forget her!

Lucy was delighted that she might finally discover if Hannah had really experienced any trouble in her past.

"Come on in Lucy; I'm making apple tarts. I've already two made for Father Tom. God love him he's all by himself in that old house and nobody to feed him. And I don't care what Stan Considine says, Father Tom is glad of my cooking."

Lucy wasn't sure what that was about but she followed Babby into the cottage. The immediate and wonderful smell of freshly baked apple tarts made her mouth water instantly. The modest exterior hid a beautifully decorated and cozy interior.

To the right of the narrow hallway where she stood, Lucy noticed a small bedroom whose door was open allowing her to see directly inside; again she observed how beautiful the décor was. A large mahogany bed was covered in a broidered cream colored duvet; the bedside table, also mahogany, displayed a small Tiffany lamp and a tall mahogany armoire stood at an angle in the corner of the room right next to the cream colored lace draped window. A large fern placed in front of the window gave the finishing touch a very simple yet classic look. Turning to the right she saw a large kitchen which looked as if it had been built for a professional chef. The cupboards were not only numerous but arranged to absorb all the space possible while providing comfort and practicality.

"Your home is simply beautiful, Babby" Lucy said, touching the long maple table and admiring the craftsmanship that went into its making.

"My fella built that" she said proudly "he's gifted when it comes to carpentry. He built every piece of furniture in this house."

Lucy looked at the living room area which was an extension of the kitchen, and thought that Babby, or her fella had great decorating taste. The back garden was the wild Atlantic Ocean. Large patio doors, maximized the view, and Lucy could only imagine what waking up to changing moods of the ocean was like.

Babby invited Lucy to sit in the living room area while she went about preparing tea for both of them. "Would you like whipped cream with your tart Lucy?

"Oh yes, please" she replied, thinking that this was a woman who knew how to enjoy a dessert. "That would be lovely. Thank-you"

Many ornaments and photos adorned the large mantel piece. Babby looked beautiful on her wedding day; her husband had a more stern expression, but Babby was radiant. Other photos showed a succession of children their marriage produced and Lucy wondered if any of them lived in the vicinity.

Babby soon arrived, her arms full with the tray of teas and tarts and Lucy rushed to help her set them down on the small table between them.

"Now tell me" Babby asked when she had placed a plate with a huge slice of apple tart and cream into Lucy's hand "how is Hannah? It's been well over sixty years since I've seen her."

Lucy paused to put down her cup of tea. "Well, I'm afraid Hannah just passed away, a few days ago in fact".

"Oh God almighty, I'm so sorry to hear that." Babby said sadly blessing herself. "I should have tried to find her or even contact her. Time does that you know; everybody gets caught up in their daily things and next thing you know it's been years since you've seen old friends."

Babby spent the next hour regaling Lucy about her youth and her interactions with Hannah. Through two more slices of tart and cream, which was carrying Lucy into a self-induced diabetic coma, she learned how they had become good friends at primary school and on into secondary school. They would talk about boys, and try to imagine who they would end up marrying.

"Of course none of us ended up with any of the boys we had imagined as our beaus in those times." She chuckled remembering her early days.

Lucy smiled at this wonderful old lady; this was the kind of encounter she had hoped for. Hearing the truth about Hannah was wonderful; and seemingly, there were no rumors or stories about murders or throat slitting. She was so thrilled to clear up the details that had perturbed her since hearing Hannah's last words and then receiving the weird notes. Lucy happily savored the tart and thought it tasted so delicious, she felt envious of Father Tom.

"So, you knew Hannah for many years?" Lucy asked. When Babby nodded yes, Lucy offered to pour more tea into Babby's cup. "So did Hannah ever encounter trouble that would have changed her in any way?"

"How do you mean?" Babby asked, her voice lowering strangely.

"Well" Lucy explained "I just wanted to know if Hannah experienced any difficult period during the time you were friends."

Babby's joviality suddenly disappeared, her eyes glossed over and her eyebrows furrowed deeply.

"What's wrong Babby? Lucy asked concerned "did something happen between yourself and Hannah?

"Oh child!" she said wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron "many say awful things like she was a wild child. But the Hannah I knew was a very, very good person who never stopped helping those in need. And anybody who'll tell you different is just full of codswallop!"

Lucy's tart euphoria ended abruptly, "did something happen to Hannah?" she asked with a growing alarm in her heart.

Babby quickly stood up, picked up the used dishes, put them on the tray and carried them to the kitchen.

"It was so long ago, I sometimes wonder how it could ever have happened."

"Can you tell me what you remember?" Lucy asked, hoping that Babby would want to open up about whatever it was that happened.

"We were young girls then, both teenagers, happy ones at that. But our lives changed when the Black and Tans arrived. We were so afraid of them, their uniforms, everything. People lived in fear of being tortured to death, of family members being shot; we had all heard of it happening, of people being dragged from their homes day or night and the Black and Tans shooting a family member or members dead. When they targeted a family nobody was spared. Some dealt with it by hiding, others fought, but everyone was affected."

Lucy had learned that although a lot of propaganda existed surrounding the actions of the Tans, some truths about brutal attacks were not openly talked about and a sort of collective silence prevailed in the ethos of the country surrounding that period in time. Babby seemed to go off into a world of yesterdays when being young should have been about having fun, dreaming of finding a beau and settling down. Instead, for those who lived through that particularly dark period in Irish history, dreams were of survival.

Lucy remembered Pa Doohan's words about stirring up bad memories and thought that she should heed his warning and leave. But leaving would mean never knowing about Hannah and what happened in her past, if something did happen. She couldn't just walk away from the chance to know. She would however tread carefully and try to gently find a way for Babby to open up. Deciding to go against Pa's advice Lucy continued to ask Babby more probing questions about Hannah's and her friendship when suddenly she noticed the old woman had closed her eyes and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Child, I used to pray that I would be hit in the head and get amnesia" Babby said after pausing for a long moment of silence broken only by the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below. "

"I'm so sorry Babby," Lucy said guiltily. "I didn't realize this would be so upsetting for you." Lucy reached for a box of tissues, pulled a few out and placed them in Babby's hands, but she didn't take them, she just sat there with her eyes closed, tears streaming down from them.

"I had heard that loss of memory could happen if you had a bad bang on the head, and I hoped that would happen to me; I wanted to forget so badly."

Lucy bit her bottom lip with anxiety at Babby's upset state. "Please, you don't have to tell me anymore for now. Perhaps another time would be better for you....."

Part of her wished she could halt what she had started, but part of her also wanted this woman to relate everything she knew about Hannah, and yet another part of her was telling her she had made a big mistake. Babby's eyes remained closed she seemed to be reliving events from the past talking hurriedly and urgently as if nothing could stop her. Lucy wondered if maybe she was saying something that she had needed to say for a long time, but couldn't. Suddenly opening her eyes, Babby looked at Lucy and said "I even gave myself a concussion once while trying to knock myself out. I wanted to remember nothing of those days."

Lucy's stomach contracted with guilt, fear and regret for having upset this nice old lady. "Can I get you some more tea, or would you prefer a glass of water?" It was as if Lucy had not said a word.

"But the hell that I went through was nothing compared to Hanny."

Lucy stared at Babby "what? What did she go through?"

Tears started to flow freely down her cheeks now and Lucy held Babby's hands tightly.

"Oh child, you're so lucky you weren't around in those times. The Black and Tans were ruthless. Hannah she tried....." Lucy never got to hear anymore. Stan Considine walked in, heard Babby sobbing and angrily demanded Lucy what was going on. Lucy detected trouble ahead and said that she was just chatting, but Babby cried out a loud wailing "No!" Stan looked from Babby to Lucy and back. "What's going on here?" he roared. Lucy couldn't understand what the problem was, and made the terrible mistake of explaining that they were just discussing the time when the Black and Tans had invaded Ireland. Stan's face contorted with disgust, he roared at Lucy to get the fuck out of his house and to leave his sister alone. While Lucy did a double take at the fact that Stan was Babby's brother, Babby went into a state of hysterics and cried helplessly. She was uttering words, but Lucy couldn't make them out because her hands were covering her face and Stan was shouting too loudly. He was yelling at Babby to shut-up, then telling Lucy to shag on off out of it; but Lucy had heard Babby clearly say that "Father Dempsey knew all about it."

Lucy tried to explain that her intentions were not to upset Babby, but to find out about her deceased grandmother; Stan who had turned a vile shade of purple, warned Lucy menacingly that if she ever put another foot on Shore Road again, it would be the last step she'd ever take!

Despite his outright hostility, Lucy bent down beside Babby, and paused for a moment to apologize for having upset her. Stan's fury increased, he grabbed her arm and roughly escorted her out of the house, pushing her as she passed through the door. Lucy was propelled towards the ground from the force of the push, but quickly regained her balance and turned around to face Stan. She didn't know what was worse, wanting to pummel him or walking away from the way he treated her. She looked at him trembling, his face was now very pale and despite the strength in his push, and the defiant look in his eye, he was just an old man who was to be pitied more than anything. "She only wanted to talk" Lucy said more calmly than she felt. This only set him off again, and he went to pick up a large stone from the gravel. Lucy quickly ran to the gate, got into her car and drove away. His ranting motions and angry fist punching the air as he stood at the gateway remained visible in her rear-view mirror until she turned the bend in the road.

Still reeling from the shock of Stan's reaction, Lucy drove quickly up the road trying desperately to comprehend what had just happened. Why had Stan become so angry at her, and what had Babby experienced in the past that seemed so painful even after so many years? And why did she not have the freedom to talk about it openly? The woman would probably feel much better by sharing her pain with a loved one instead of being told to bottle it up.

Twilight was approaching quickly but Lucy couldn't face the two hour drive back to Limerick while feeling so angry; being behind the wheel in this frame of mind was a recipe for disaster or a fine. Pulling off the road, she realized she had wound up near Moneen church. She drove up a little further and parked the car in front of the churchyard, turned off the engine and sat stoically; the shock of Stan's anger and Babby's hysterics still playing through her mind made her feel drained. She reclined her chair slightly, massaged her head and tried to think about what she should do. Clearly, Babby and Hannah experienced something traumatic during the Tan invasion, but what exactly remained a mystery. Maybe she could go back when Stan wasn't there; that wouldn't be fair to Babby. Upsetting her again was not an option.

In the darkness save for a dim light coming from a window at the side of the church, Lucy began to let her mind wander and found herself feeling dozy. She tried to fight the need for sleep, but her will was weak and sleep won. Her last thoughts were of trying to find a way into her grandmother's past.

Hannah was knocking persistently on Lucy's front door, while calling out to her; Lucy watched in disbelief for what seemed like an eternity before finally moving to answer the door; everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Lucy tried to go to her nana faster, but found her body was as heavy as lead. The knocking continued, she kept struggling to move her paralyzed body but couldn't; suddenly she jolted awake. She blinked several times, and realized it had only been a dream. Just as a sigh of relief passed her lips, a sudden knock on the window startled her so much she screamed with the fright. There, outside the driver's side window was Father Tom peering in at her, his blue eyes studying her curiously, his curly brown hair blowing wildly in the wind and his hands set deep in his pockets.

"I believe you had what the Spanish call a siesta" he said smiling broadly.

She wiped away the moist feeling at the corner of her mouth. "Oh dear, I've been drooling" she said aloud to herself.

"Most of us do Lucy."

She looked curiously at the priest while opening her window "thanks for waking me up Father. I'm sorry I blocked the entrance; I'll be moving off now"

"Not at all, not all" he said kindly "sure you'll be needing a cuppa before you hit the road. Come on in and I'll put on the kettle for some tea."

In light of her last encounter with Kilbaha hospitality, she was reluctant to accept.

He noticed her hesitation and said "well sure, I'll head on in myself, but you're welcome to join me if you like".

Lucy watched as the priest turned and walked towards the open church door. The light emanating from inside looked warm and inviting, much more appealing than her cold dark car; she decided that maybe a cup of tea would be more beneficial than to drive home immediately. It couldn't be worse than her Shore Road experience.

After checking the parking brake was on, she picked up her bag looked at her watch and saw that it was already past eight thirty in the evening! That meant that she had slept for over an hour! Baffled, she got out of the car, locked the door and scurried towards the church.

Father Tom was just passing through the narrow corridor beside the altar when Lucy caught up with him. His gait was eager, like that of a man going for a much sought after pint, instead of a relaxing cup of tea. She followed on his heels while observing the area of the church reserved for those who worked to bring the mass to the faithful.

The same distinct smell filled the air; Lucy recognized it as one found in many churches- a combination of mothballs, incense and Pledge furniture polish. Although this particular place of worship had been built for centuries and had seen its flock through much political turmoil, there was something pristine about the place. She stopped to look at the little Ark that had been a symbol of defiance and triumph for the oppressed people of this tiny village and imagined the importance it held in maintaining the collective beliefs and culture of this little village. The bravery and solid unity of the village people who attended mass despite the danger was astounding. She envisaged them on their knees on the wet sandy shore, praying for a better life, praying for their land. She knew the oppression they faced, knew of all they had to lose by practicing their faith, and she thought that today freedom of choice was a given for most – the effort of these people was not remembered – such a pity! The sound of mugs clattering made her hurry on to the sacristy.

The kettle had already begun to boil when she entered the small room off to the side of the sacristy. Father Tom was putting 2 mugs on the table when she walked in.

"Good, you came in! How do you take your tea, Lucy? He asked while shoveling sugar into his own brimming mug.

"Just milk, thank you" she replied, putting her bag down on the wooden stool inside the door. He poured some milk into her mug, stirred well then placed it in front of her.

"So how did the match go?" she asked.

His smile vanished as he mournfully announced that the team had lost by only one point. To Lucy it sounded as if the man would have announced the death of a close friend.

They sat down at a small polished, wooden table; Father Tom had brought out dessert and set it down in front of Lucy.

"Babby's best" he said enthusiastically. "That woman should have been a chef you know, she's just gifted in the kitchen".

Lucy nodded briefly as she eyed the apple tart and shifted uncomfortably in her chair remembering Babby's hysterics and Stan's anger. She declined the tart and sipped silently on the hot beverage, letting its warmth flow down her throat.

Father Tom took a big gulp of his tea, then looked at Lucy and said quietly "am.., I've just been to Shore Road."

"You have?" she replied surprised "any particular reason?

"Stan called me actually. He said Babby wasn't well at all and that he had called the doctor. It sounded serious so I went over there as soon as possible but the doctor had already sedated her and things seemed to have calmed down.

"Sedated her" Lucy repeated softly. "Was she that distressed?"

"Only Stan and Doctor Connors could answer that one, but from what I understand, she was quite upset".

Lucy nodded her understanding, but said nothing.

"Do you know what happened? I ask because Stan said you had been there this afternoon and....."

"I just went to talk to her" Lucy answered in bewilderment. "I spoke about my grandmother, and Babby related stories of when they were young girls. Next thing I know Babby's crying and Stan started shouting and I honestly cannot say why".

Father Tom frowned briefly "according to Stan you had been talking about the Tans when she became upset."

Lucy sighed heavily and rubbed her hands through her hair. Inside, she felt tired, angry, and frustrated; she wanted to explain why she was really here, but the thoughts of having an argument with another Kilbaha resident was just not something she felt up to, especially not a priest!

Father Tom took a long sip of tea, and put down his mug down gently. "Lucy, I don't think you meant to upset anybody, and I mean that."

"Then why do I get the impression that I did something I shouldn't have. I mean I admit I wanted to know about when she knew my grandmother, but when I saw she was beginning to become melancholy I offered to leave. She didn't listen though; she looked like she was away in a world of her own. The next thing I know, she's very upset and Stan is ready to pommel me. I didn't mean to cause her any kind of distress, I mean....."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time." he interjected while pouring more tea into her mug and then his own.

"What?" Lucy asked softly.

"From what I hear, Babby has had similar episodes over the years. It's Stan who usually has a hard time of it until she gets back to her old self again. Lord knows, it's tough on him too when she has a relapse; I would imagine that is why he became so angry with you."

Lucy frowned again "does anybody know exactly what causes her to get upset periodically?"

Father Tom shrugged his shoulders and said, "Lucy, I'm sure you could find someone who could tell you why, but would it be the truth?" he asked rhetorically "I'm not sure of that. And I wouldn't go asking Stan either."

"No fear of that" she scoffed. "I'd rather face a Pamplona bull."

"Well, yes, I know Stan can be a little spirited when he's cross."

Lucy wouldn't have described Stan in quite the same way, as far as she was concerned, Stan would qualify for security detail at a heavy metal concert.

"Look, I think that maybe if I found some way to meet Babby again, and talk to her, I could get her to open up." Lucy noticed Father Tom's disapproving expression at this idea, but she ignored it and went on "I believe Babby was going to tell me something about her past, something very significant, but after Stan walked in all that changed. Maybe, given the right atmosphere again, she would open up.

"Unless you're a psychiatrist, psychologist, or psychotherapist, I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Why not?" Lucy asked exasperated. "Doesn't it seem like she needs to talk about whatever is in her past that's painful for her?" With a hard look at Father Tom, she continued "the way I see it, Stan is preventing her from divulging whatever it is she needs to say."

"Ah not at all!" Father Tom protested softly "Stan would never hurt Babby in any way. He's a kind gentle soul, but fiercely protective of his kin. The way I see it, Stan knows her a lot better than you. She may have some deep seated problems, and getting her to talk about "them" might not be the best for her despite what you think."

"Well she seems to want to talk about the past, but isn't being allowed to, so that's where my disagreement lies."

"Well none of us are qualified to analyze Babby or her problems, and if we tried" Father Tom said pausing to look at her, "we could end up causing more harm than good".

Lucy wasn't sure she should divulge that Babby had been about to mention an experience with the Black and Tans without any difficulty, but decided it best not to argue any further.

Father Tom looked at Lucy and said "when you came here this morning, you said your grandmother knew Babby and had left a message for her before she died. Now, if they knew each other in their youth, then they would have experienced the Tan invasion. Did she mention anything specific to you about that?"

"No, not at all" Lucy lied with considerable ease "she spoke only about their school days".

"Hmmm" Father Tom grunted disbelievingly while looking at her. "Lucy, you have to understand that, in a small village such as this one, it's not easy to talk to people about personal problems. And, even not talking about them is problematic because people will speculate what they think your problem might be and this becomes part of the ever-turning and harsh rumour mill".

"Does that mean you've heard something about Babby?" Lucy asked cautiously.

He nodded his head "no matter what I've heard about Babby, I refuse to heed any of it; since I came to this parish, Babby has shown me nothing but kindness. That woman's delicious cooking is responsible for me being a stone heavier today. She has a heart of gold, and has never harmed a soul. It is a shame she has received no counseling for her distress related to the Black and Tans".

"What about the Black and Tans?" Lucy asked eagerly "so you do know something about the invasion."

Father Tom sighed at having let something slip and decided that only one course of action was called for here. He rose from the table, went to a cupboard and rummaged in it for a few moments before returning to the table with a worn brown leather photo album which he placed on the table in front of Lucy. He looked at her and said gravely

"When the Tans were here, life was difficult for many people, and the fear of death was a daily reality. People did things they would normally never have done; they had to in order to survive." Then he opened the album, turning the pages carefully until he found the one he was looking for. He positioned the album in front of Lucy then pointed to a yellowed and cracked photo.

Her eyes swept across a group of about thirty teenage boys, all neatly dressed in their school uniforms. A young long-robed priest stood to the right of the boys, he was not smiling but there was a kind grin on his face and an expression of warmth about him. Behind them was a building Lucy recognized; it was Kilbaha church. "This was taken just outside in the church-yard here" she said without looking at Father Tom. "Who are these children?"

He pointed to the image of the priest "his name was Sean O Brien, a Christian brother. He loved Irish poetry and literature, was passionate about education and spent many years teaching here in Kilbaha. Unlike many teachers of his time, he never raised his hand to discipline a pupil because he abhorred violence of any kind. Yet, this kind soul bludgeoned a man to death. It was a Tan. Two of them, thugs they were, entered the classroom and grabbed a couple of boys at random. Brother O'Brien intervened, but received the butt end of a rifle in the gut. It knocked the wind out of him and he was incapacitated. The thugs started to humiliate the young lads; kicked them in the genitals, beat them and urinated on them... these children were not human in their eyes, just Irish scum. Anyway, Brother O'Brien got his strength back and grabbed a poker that was lying beside the small fireplace. He sneaked up behind one of the Tans and belted him hard on the head, killing him instantly. The other Tan turned around and fired at him. The kids, although terrified ran to his aid, but he pushed them off and roared "fight lads, fight him, defend yourselves!!!" Although the Tan was armed, he never got a chance to use his rifle a second time. The boys jumped on him and beat him into unconsciousness. One of the boys ran home and got his father to come to the school. The boys recovered from their ordeal, but a most pacifist man, Brother O' Brien died in the school that day. He was my uncle".

"That's so tragic" Lucy said as shivers ran down her spine. She was at a loss for words, but even if she could think of something to say, what could it change? Father Tom went on "here in Clare, many people have a Tan related loss somewhere in their family. Some experiences were a lot worse than others. Some can talk about it, others can't."

Lucy immediately thought about her grandmother and wondered if her Tan experience was so awful that she could never mention it, not even to her. But if Hannah knew Babby, they could have been together when Hannah slit someone's throat, if she ever did such a thing. Logically, if the gentle Brother O'Brien could turn murderer, so could Hannah. Lucy looked at Father Tom "so, you're sure that Babby's problem could be a painful Tan experience?"

"I'm sure of nothing" he said closing the album "all I know is that after the Tans came here many lives were changed forever.

Lucy did not know if she should ever try to talk to Babby again, she seemed the only one who could provide some answers. For now, her search had reached a dead end, as had her energy. She checked her watch and saw how late it was. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry, I've kept you much longer than I should have. I had better go."

"Not at all Lucy" he said kindly. "I was the one keeping you".

"I enjoyed our chat" she said earnestly "I'll come by again some time."

They walked out through the church and Lucy thanked him again as she went into the church-yard.

"I have a feeling you'll be back again very soon" and with that he closed the church door.

*

Stepping out cautiously from behind the tall bushes, he looked up and down the unlit street making sure he was alone. He pulled a last but long drag on his cigarette and held his breath momentarily before exhaling a small cloud of toxins into the cold night air. He was aware of its sediments reposing yet another layer of crap on his lungs "fuck it all" he whispered. Cancer wouldn't catch him, of that he was sure; he probably wouldn't be around long enough; the drink or the pills would get him first. He had popped quite a few earlier, maybe too many; he was having difficulty focusing; his heartbeat and breathing were too rapid. He wasn't in control. A noise made his head jerk to the right, he listened intently then felt himself relax, it was just a stray cat. In the distance he heard a group of people raucously singing a melancholic Irish lament to freedom "probably pissed drunk eegits, the lot of them" he thought. Suddenly headlights lit up the dark street and he stepped back into the bushes for a moment. He observed the woman as she got out of the car. By the looks of it, she was tired. Well she would have a permanent rest soon enough he thought. With the lights of the car gone, the street was in darkness once more. He waited a moment then approached as stealthily as possible from behind, making sure not to startle her. Her head was tilted slightly as she tried to find the right key amongst the many others on her key ring. He had knocked out the porch light earlier; the darkness was to his advantage. He was close enough to smell her perfume. As the jingling of the keys continued, he quickly grabbed her hair, pulled back her head to expose her throat then with one swift swipe of the blade across her neck took her life. She never even had time to scream. With a smile of victory on his face, he eased her dying body to the ground, took her handbag and whispered "good bye Lucy Courtney". Then pocketing his knife, he made off into the night.

Chapter 5. Hunted

Kevin Hartnett sped into the small cul-de-sac, braking harshly, disturbing some of the other officers already present and earning himself many dirty looks in the process. He overheard grumblings about his behaviour being more akin to an actor in an American action movie, instead of a policeman in a small Irish city. But Kevin didn't give a damn about whose feathers he was ruffling, all he could think about was that Lucy had been murdered. He had thought of nothing else since entering the station and learning about the emergency call from Ridgewood Crescent. That had been at 4.45 a.m. it was now over twenty minutes later and his colleague Dan Ahearn, who had been the first to arrive on the scene, was transmitting information via his police radio as Kevin approached. "Ahearn here.....affirmative for the 3-0-9 at 24 Ridgewood Crescent, Over."

He nodded to Hartnett who swore loudly; Ahern had just confirmed a dead body at Lucy's address. He approached the driveway where the yellow taped crime scene perimeter began, rage boiling inside him. He could not show any emotion that would imply personal feelings; he had to look at this as he would any other case, which meant barging up to the body was out of the question. Dan Ahearn approached his colleague and shook his head slowly. "It's bad, Kev; a female, early twenties, had her throat sliced from one side to the other. I'd say she's been dead about seven hours, give or take."

"Have you identified the body?" Kevin asked grimly.

Ahern looked at his notes and said "Not officially as yet. There was no identification on the victim, but we believe it is Lucy Courtney, the proprietor of this house. She has a set of keys in her hands, so it looks like she was about to enter her house when she got knifed from behind. There was no sign of a struggle, but around the body, we found one human footprint and numerous paw prints, probably the neighbour's dog. McCormick has already checked inside the house, and it's empty."

Hartnett looked around him "there's no car in the driveway" he said looking at the small tarmac driveway.

"All cars parked on the street are accounted for, except Miss Courtney's. Robbery could be a motive" Ahern said promptly. "We're checking vehicle records for a make and model registered in her name.

"Don't bother" Kevin said "I can tell you that myself." It's a silver Ford Opal, last year's model." He recited the license plate then said lowly "put out an APB on it." He left Ahern to transmit the information and headed towards the porch.

The mop of red hair seeping in a pool of scarlet blood on the ground immediately caught his eye and Kevin felt his heart sink. When he noticed the blouse that Lucy had worn only days earlier, he swore through gritted teeth. She was lying inside the small porch in the fetal position, with her back to them. He walked carefully around the pool of blood stepping awkwardly over it in order to stand inside the porch. Bending down, he gently touched her upper arm; it felt stone cold, not like the warmth and softness of only a few days before. He rubbed his face with one hand in an effort to stave off the overwhelming mix of emotions that were flooding his mind. He felt like a complete failure; he should have protected her instead he had failed her miserably.

"She bled out completely" Ahearn said pointing at the obvious. Kevin nodded grimly, but didn't say that only an eegit could miss the massive pool of blood, the paw prints and the footprint at the porch entrance. Ahern was a good man, who was just doing his job; there was no need to take his frustrations out on him. The smell of blood, urine and fecal matter began to make his stomach churn, but he discreetly took a deep breath and peered over the body to look at the injury that caused her death; what he saw made him do a double take. He spun around towards Ahern and shouted "it isn't Lucy!" he exclaimed loudly.

"What?" said Ahern surprised.

"This isn't Lucy Courtney!!" he repeated grinning at Ahern.

"How do you know?" he asked turning a page in his notebook and placing his pencil on the paper ready to write...

"Because I know Lucy Courtney, and that's not her" he said smiling for the first time since starting his shift.

"Well, who is it then?" Ahern enquired.

"No idea whatsoever!" Kevin replied as he looked towards the next door neighbor's house. "Are they the ones who called it in?"

Ahern checked his notes again and answered "That's right. It was William Short who called 999. According to him, his dog came back with blood on his paws. When they saw the animal wasn't injured he went outside and followed the trail of paw prints to this house. They saw the body lying there, and called the police. Short, apparently had touched the neck area of the victim, but got no pulse".

"So" Kevin said slowly "Short next door believed this woman to be Lucy. That means he probably doesn't know who this is either".

Ahern closed his notebook and put it in his coat pocket "we had better find Courtney" he said with finality.

"Yes!" exclaimed Kevin "she needs to know she's in terrible danger!"

Ahern frowned at what he had just heard "I believe she needs to be questioned, sir".

Kevin froze at this reproach; he was messing things up here. He wasn't thinking as a detective, or detective-to-be, but as a blind, love-struck teenager. If he didn't watch it, his superior would be hauling him off the case citing reasons of personal involvement. "Of course she needs to be questioned, Ahern" Kevin explained impatiently "but she also needs to know that a woman bearing a strong resemblance to her was murdered on her doorstep. Now if we don't take the necessary precautions, she might be the next victim! Did you think of that?" he said with conviction "or were you just thinking that Courtney is the one slicing throats around here?"

Ahern frowned again "Courtney should first be considered a suspect then a possible victim. "

"Are you aware she received a death threat only a few days ago?"

"She did?" Ahern asked with surprise, as he went for his notebook again. Kevin stopped him "there's no need to note it I was the one who took her statement, filed the report and gave it to the Sarge. He knows all about it. You can read the file when we get back to the station."

Ahern agreed to do so. He seemed more relaxed now and interpreted Kevin's earlier behavior as relief more than anything else; if that had been Courtney lying there after she reported receiving a death threat, then Kevin would be up writing reports 'til the cows came home. No wonder the man was delighted it wasn't her!

"Right" Kevin said with finality "SB are on their way, so I suppose we'll stay around until they and the coroner have done their work".

"Who's coming from Special Branch?" Ahern enquired.

Kevin rolled his eyes "Batman and friggin' Robin." Both men laughed quietly at this analogy of the two detectives assigned to investigate the murder. It was, in part due to their opposing physical characteristics that earned them such a name, but it was also because their interpersonal relationship resembled that of the cartoon caped duo. The young detective, (Robin) admiringly hung on to every word, and agreed one hundred percent with his older partner, (Batman), and Batman was always right! Or so he believed.

Ahern had just left Kevin to stand guard at Lucy's house when suddenly a car's horn blared and a deep voice bellowed "What effin gobbshite parked in the middle of the effin road!"

Ahern and Kevin looked at each other and said in unison "Batman and Robin!"

Batman bounded towards the house fixed his eyes on the two officers present and threw a dirty look towards Kevin.

"Hey!" he said roughly nudging his diminutive partner "Fuck-face is here". Robin nodded but said nothing, Batman continued with an ugly grin "looks like we'll have to pick up the pieces after the amateurs".

Kevin's blood boiled, but he said nothing. Ahern called them bastards under his breath.

*

Lucy awoke having had a restful night's sleep; a deep reparatory sleep of the kind she had not known for some time. The feelings of fatigue, sadness and frustration that had hung so heavy in her heart only yesterday seemed inexplicably distant this morning. Her body felt energized, her mind clear and decisive; she decided the best approach to take in uncovering Hannah's past would be to start with a search through the deceased woman's possessions. Perhaps an old photo or letter forgotten in the many dusty storage boxes in the attic could lead to new information, or even a new contact, anything that would lead to the truth. Then again maybe this search would end up raising more questions. Either way, one thing was sure, there was nothing to tie her to Ridgewood Crescent; it had been a mistake purchasing the house, so she decided to go back there later in the day, pick up her things and move back into Hannah's house – back home.

Feeling content with this new plan she stretched lazily in the downy comfort of the warm duvet and smiled to herself. Stopping here last night had definitely been a great idea as driving back from Kilbaha along the unlit coastal road had been difficult with persistent heavy rain beating down on the car making visibility very poor. Her eyes burned with fatigue and her head ached with the result that by the time she reached Kilrush the decision to stop for the night at a bed and breakfast had been made.

After lounging in bed for another thirty minutes, hunger pangs finally made her get up. She hopped out of bed, pulled open the heavy opaque curtains and watched the morning sunshine glisten gloriously on the still waters of the Shannon Estuary. After a long, hot shower, and a delicious, artery clogging Irish breakfast, she paid her bill and headed to Ennis. There were some great pottery artists to visit in and around the town, and Lucy decided to give herself a little break and pretend to be a tourist for a few hours. Her relaxed happy feeling was to be very short lived.

*

Twelve hours later, a very distraught Lucy was staring down a long bleak sterile smelling corridor in the Limerick Regional Hospital. It was identical to the sixth floor I.C unit where her grandmother died only a week earlier, except this was in the basement where the morgue was housed. The absence of hissing life-support machines and cries of pain from the dying did nothing to prevent Lucy from experiencing another panic attack. And, in light of the psychological turmoil she had already been through this one was more severe than anything previously experienced. Her head began to spin, her knees buckled as blood and oxygen drained rapidly from her upper body. Overcome with a powerful wave of nausea, Lucy's thoughts were fraught with terror - her world had become a nightmare from which there was no escape.

By the time Kevin Hartnett returned from speaking with the morgue attendant, he found a very pale Lucy hunched over her knees, trembling badly and blowing violently into a brown paper bag. He winced at the state she was in regretting his decision to have her identify the body. Earlier on he deemed her calm and collected enough to take on such a difficult task, but with the distressed behavior she was now exhibiting he realized the error he made. Yet delaying identification of the remains until the victim's parents could be located was wasting precious time that was not his to give. After a crime, there was usually a period when the trail was hot, and the clues fresh- letting these go cold because of a technicality was not only frustrating, but extremely dangerous because it allowed the killer to roam free. Yet again, asking Lucy to identify a mutilated body given her current state of health could have different but equally disastrous consequences. Feeling indecisive about the whole thing he approached with no particular idea of how to respect her current limitations while still responding to his instinctual and unstoppable drive to solve crime.

"Hey Lucy" he said gently as he sat beside her.

A dismissive wave of her hand indicated her incapacity to communicate while sending a message that space and silence was necessary. The brown paper bag was no longer being used, but she still remained hunched over her knees trembling like a frightened lamb, her long red hair partially hiding a deathly pallor.

For more than twenty minutes, the time it took for the panic attack to recede, Kevin observed her in silence noting the tear drops on her shoes. Despite her sadness, hyperventilation and sporadic retching, she could not know how happy and relieved he felt that she was alive, even if it was by pure chance. Whatever prompted her stopover in Kilrush it had saved her life. However an innocent victim was murdered in cold blood, the culprit was still at large, and Lucy was still in danger. Keeping her close and thereby safe was his priority until he found the link between her, the notes, the victim and the murderer.

"Let's get out of here" he said proffering a hand towards her "I'm sure you will feel better outside."

"I'm sure I will" she replied softly while taking his hand "but I came here to identify a body and....."

"That's not such a good idea" he interrupted "given the state you're in."

Ignoring the comment, she stood up, placed her hair behind her ears away from her face and asked to be taken inside the morgue.

"Lucy this is not going to be easy!" "He insisted. "I mean have you ever seen a dead body before?"

He realized the tactlessness of the rhetorical question, only after the words had escaped his lips.

"Just last week actually" she replied, arms folding with tension "and two others some years earlier, not to mention the one I'm about to see."

"I really didn't mean to......"

Biting back a plethora of emotions, she swallowed hard and spoke in an uneasy calm "look, it's okay. I know you're just trying to prepare me for the worst, but I am well able for this...honestly."

"Right" Kevin said slightly relieved. He had been expecting a different, more explosive reaction and admittedly this calm unnerved him. "Off we go then."

She nodded slightly and together they walked down the corridor to the morgue.

The air conditioned chambers of the hospital morgue felt soothing on her clammy post-panic stricken skin. The dank green walls and iron meshed windows appeared to have been created for the specific purpose of trying to prevent the dead from escaping. An entire wall of large square metal doors held, within their confines, the bodies of loved ones awaiting burial, or in this case identification before being ceremoniously sent to the next life.

A young acne-prone attendant shuffled up to the pair and Kevin nodded to him "we're ready now".

The morgue employee opened one of the square metal doors, pulled out the long tray until a loud thunk signaled its full extension then partially lowered the green sheet to the chin area. Lucy gasped aloud, all hope of there being a mistake evaporated as she looked in disbelief at the cold blue-grey face and long red hair of her closest and most dear friend Sue Radley. How could this be? Who would have hurt such a kind soul? What was Sue doing in Limerick or Ireland for that matter and why wasn't she in Ibiza? What prompted her to be in Ridgewood Crescent so late at night?

The attendant, who was looking from Lucy to Kevin while waiting for the identification to be announced, inadvertently lowered the sheet further than intended revealing the large gaping neck wound caused by the killer's blade along with the ugly large sutures from the autopsy. Lucy's eyes widened in horror, she turned away and ran to a small waste receptacle retching loudly on the way. The attendant quickly replaced the sheet and slid the tray back into the small square fridge.

Is that Sue Radley?" Kevin called to her knowing full well from her reaction that it was, but needing verbal confirmation anyway. She continued vomiting for a moment then stood up wiped her face with a paper towel and her answer came out as a surprisingly firm "yes".

The identification was official; Kevin transmitted the information via walkie-talkie which set in motion a series of tasks, all of which were grim, the worst being official notification of next-of-kin, wherever they were. His job now was keeping a close eye on all her movements; the sarge was convinced she killed Radley, as was everyone else. But he believed otherwise, and was certain the autopsy results would prove she couldn't have been the killer.

Lucy rushed from the morgue to the bathroom and didn't emerge for some time. Kevin went in twice to check on her, but got no answer. The loud vomiting sounds told him enough about her emotional state. When she finally returned Kevin took her gently by the shoulders and laid her down on a cushioned bench "You okay Luce?"

"No" she said flatly, her face a deathly white, her skin clammy and her body trembling with shock.

"It just doesn't seem real" she said bewildered.

"I know this is very hard on you but you need to think of your own safety now. This isn't about weird notes anymore, this is a whole other ball game and it involves a psychopath."

"I'm going home" she said wiping her eyes with a Kleenex that was so used it was beginning to disintegrate in her hand.

"You can't be serious!" Kevin exclaimed. "Lucy, your home is off limits until the investigation is complete. Besides, until we catch whoever did this, you are in real danger. Do you realize that?"

"Back to Hannah's" she sobbed "I'll be safe there.....I was always safe with Hannah."

He watched her as she lay there trembling and muttering incoherently; she looked seriously unwell.

"I think you need a doctor".

After she had been examined, the doctor diagnosed her as being in a state of mild shock and recommended a strong sedative, but Lucy wouldn't hear of it. After much coaxing the doctor finally gave up and told her to have a very large brandy and to get some rest. She was not to be alone tonight, and should her condition worsen, she was to be returned immediately for treatment. As they left the hospital, Kevin took her by the hand and led her outside to his car.

"Lucy, I have a place where you can stay. It's safe, and the person who owns it is someone I would trust with my life".

When Lucy didn't disagree, Kevin took this as her accord to the plan. What he didn't know was that she didn't protest because she was miles away in thought to another time when Sue and herself were backpacking around France.

"Lucy.....we're here" he said after a while. When she turned to look at him, he said gently "you didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"No......." she said rubbing her eyes.

"I said my friend Mick, who you already met, has a small furnished flat above his pub, The Windmill. He keeps it for when he finishes late and is too tired to drive home. Anyway, you can stay there until........well whenever really." Kevin noticed Lucy's shoulders shrug slightly and knew he couldn't expect much reaction from her. "I'll be back in a minute, wait here for me, okay?" He went inside only after she had promised to wait in the car.

A few minutes later they found themselves in Mick's small, but cozy flat. It had a kitchenette adjacent to the living room, and a small bedroom with an en suite bathroom. As Lucy lay on the couch Kevin checked the fridge and was not surprised to find it contained no food. "I'll get some take out, if you'd like."

He suggested pizza, but got no response, he imagined that Lucy would have no appetite, but he was starving; so pizza would do.

While Mick's fridge contained no food, he had a fully stocked bar and after pouring Lucy a large glass of brandy, he placed it in front of her on the coffee table telling her it would help her feel better.

He heard a muttered "Thanks" then to his complete surprise saw it was knocked back in one gulp. Kevin's eyebrows rose for just a second in reaction to this, but he said nothing and simply poured her another, a double this time. When she knocked that one back even more quickly he thought he would hold off for a bit, or she'd drink herself into oblivion. When the empty glass was held out for a refill he poured in only a minute quantity and noticed how she was just staring into space with listless eyes not fully registering what was going on. This worried him and he contemplated calling the doctor again, but decided to wait because at least the trembling had stopped and that had to be a good thing.

A couple of hours later Lucy had passed out on the couch. Despite his efforts, she had managed to drink more brandy when he had gone to get the food, but would not eat a morsel all evening. He wanted to tell her that drinking herself into a coma wouldn't help, but if what happened to Sue Radley happened to any member of his family, or friends he would probably do worse, so he decided to say nothing at all. In fact very little was said all evening, which was fine with him because pain and alcohol are usually key ingredients to saying or doing things that will later be regretted. He knew this from experience having said and done many stupid things while drunk. The latest incident involved him decking Batman during the Christmas party. Batman's beautiful wife was a bit tipsy and had been flirting innocently with a few lads from the station; Batman became furious took her outside and began roughing her up. He was obviously a dab hand at beating his wife because she was pleading with him not to give her another concussion, but his rage was blind and he would have kept pummeling her had Kevin not followed him out and given him a taste of his own medicine. Well, it was not so much medicine as a swift brutal left hook to the solar plexus that knocked him to his knees. Kevin had developed this particular punch over the years in defense against his older brothers so-called tussling, now although they were the only deserving recipients of this treatment, the sight of a specially trained cop beating up on a woman was not something he could tolerate. His dad had always warned him to never get between a quarrelling couple because the woman will always defend her man.

Lucy muttered in her sleep and brought him back to the present. He laid a second blanket over her, turned her on her side and placed a bucket on the floor beside her. She probably had nothing left to chuck anyway after the morgue's affects.

Rubbing his face and chin to wipe away the sleepy feeling cascading over him, he lay back in the armchair opposite her, took out his note book and reread the brief statement Lucy had given to Batman and Robin in the Short's house after she returned to Ridgewood Crescent.

Lucy's return to the cul-de-sac did not go unnoticed. When learning that a young woman had been murdered on her doorstep, she immediately rushed up to a police officer guarding the crime scene perimeter and announced herself as the proprietor of the house. Kevin, who had been standing near the body, caught sight of Batman and Robin rushing determinedly past. The former shouting orders to get her down to the station. Moments later, and to his great surprise, Ahern appeared with Lucy in tow and placed her in the back of his squad car. Kevin suddenly rushed over to join them, got into the car, and with a slight nod of his head to Ahern, signaled him to drive on. He glanced quickly at Lucy whose expression looked frightened but said nothing. As they slowly exited the diminutive cul-de-sac Kevin pulled down the window and asked a fellow officer to bring his car back to the station. It was Batman and Robin who took her statement, while Kevin and several other officers were viewing everything from another room through a live feed. He had had the wisdom to write down everything she said in his own notebook and now he reread over her words

"My name is Lucy Courtney. My address is 24 Ridgewood Crescent, Raheen, Limerick.

The woman found in the pool of her own blood, and whom I'm not allowed to see up close, is, I believe, my best friend Sue Radley. She is a British citizen with an address in Tumbridge Wells, London. It's her parents address, but she rarely has any contact with them anymore. I had not been expecting her to visit, as I believed her to be working in Ibiza, Spain. Sue was an unpredictable, spontaneous and fun loving person who could never stay long in one place; she called a routine lifestyle a prison sentence. The day I purchased the house, I sent her a set of keys because she sometimes had trouble holding on to jobs, or apartments. When she was unemployed, I would send her a ferry ticket, at least this way she would always have a place to stay until she sorted things out.

Anyway, yesterday I spent the day in Kilbaha, County Clare. I went to see an acquaintance of my deceased grandmother and because it was very late and the weather was very bad on my way home, I stopped for the night in a bed and breakfast in Kilrush. You can check with Mrs. Hennessey who runs the place.

Kevin read through the rest where Lucy explained about the notes that started appearing after Hannah's death and the incident of the note on the fridge door. Robin had pointed out that apart from height and hair color, Sue Radley's facial features didn't resemble Lucy in any way. Batman explained, as a parent to a slow learning child, that given the dark conditions it was easy for the murderer to confuse Sue for Lucy. Robin had pointed out that if he had been stalking Lucy, he would have become suspicious when she wasn't in her own car. Batman had rolled his eyes and said that the victim had taken a taxi to Ridgewood Crescent. Kevin muttered something to the sarge who relayed the information to Batman during a short break. After returning to the interview room Batman asked about the blouse Sue Radley wore, Lucy had had an identical one. Visibly thrown off by that particular question, she paused a moment looking directly at the camera on the wall and Kevin could tell she knew it was he who had demanded to know. Then a few moments later quietly explained that she had purchased two of them a couple of months ago and had posted one of them to Sue.

Kevin closed his note book and looked over at Lucy; she was sleeping soundly now. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

*

"Hello?" He banged again on the door "Hello?" He opened the door continuing to knock lightly as he walked in. Kevin jolted from the armchair and stood upright trying to take in what was going on. His best friend Mick stood just inside the open doorway.

"Are ya all right there Kev?" Mick asked jovially. "You'd swear you had been on the batter all night."

"I'm grand Mick, thanks" Kevin replied while rubbing his hands over his face. Suddenly he froze, whipped around towards the couch and saw it was empty. He bolted across the room and stopped in front of the bathroom door. "Lucy? Lucy, are you in there?"

When no reply came he opened the door and checked inside, it was empty. He looked at Mick and swore "How could she be gone!!!!!"

Mick frowned "dunno, Kev" he said calmly. "Maybe she didn't want to be with you after the deed".

Kevin rolled his eyes "We didn't have sex" he said exasperated. "I was protecting her".

Mick looked around and said casually "grand job there Kev!"

Kevin and Mick went back many years, but sometimes he had a way of getting Kevin riled.

"Did you see anyone come or go this morning?" Kevin asked with more patience than he felt.

"Just got here" Mick told Kevin "you're the first soul I've crossed this morning."

Kevin grabbed his coat and swore aloud. Just as he was about to head out the door Mick stopped and pointed him in the direction of the fridge. There was a note taped to the fridge door. "I'd say that's for you". Kevin dashed back across to the fridge and grabbed the note.

Hi Kevin,

Thank you for helping me out once more, I am very grateful for your kindness, but in all honesty, I cannot stay confined here. I have to find who murdered Sue.

See you soon.

Lucy.

Kevin crumpled up the note and swore again. Passing Mick he said exasperatedly "I'm going to County Clare. If it's a thing that she comes back here, lock her up and throw away the key!"

Mick just shrugged and said "Yeah...grand so Kev...... but there are easier ways to get a woman!" But Kevin was already bounding down the stairs and out onto the side walk. He had one stop to make before he tried to find Lucy.

*

"What do you mean you don't know where she is?" The sarge was speaking in a very controlled tone, which was a hundred times worse than when he shouted because it signaled trouble. "She is a person of interest in a murder investigation and although she was under your watch, you still managed to lose her!"

Kevin winced at his sense of failure "you know we cannot arrest or detain her because we have no proof she committed this crime, plus she has a solid alibi. Legally, I couldn't hold her indefinitely."

The sarge was squeezing a yellow anti-stress ball, his knuckles turning white in the process.

"She's probably back at Ridgewood Crescent", he was talking as if Kevin wasn't there, "forensics finished up a few hours ago. Or, maybe she's at her grandmother's". Then turning his eyes towards Kevin he frowned and said, "Well she can't have gone too far anyway because of the restrictions from leaving the country."

"I want to go to Kilbaha" Kevin said in a tone that was not so much a request as an affirmation.

The sarge's face suddenly looked like he had just sucked on a lemon and let go of the ball. "You want to go where?"

He had gone from leaning back in his swivel chair to a standing position, his hands supporting a solid upper body on the wooden desk. Kevin recognized this was a tactic of intimidation, which he admitted worked very well when he first came to the station. But after three years of seeing a bark that was worse than a bite, he became immune to these displays of what he called a puffed-up adder. Kevin repeated the destination to his short-tempered superior and got a predictable response.

"Where the fuck's that?"

"Past Kilrush, near Loophead."

Why the fuck do you want to go to a lighthouse?"

Kevin wanted to tell him that it was none of his shagging business where he wanted to go, or what he wanted to do, but decided against it. Instead he patiently explained his hypothesis, "not the lighthouse, sir. The murder victim, and the threatening notes that Lucy Courtney received are all linked to the one person, Hannah and her past. If I find out how they are linked, I can solve this case. But first of all I have to find Lucy Courtney because she is the one who the perpetrator wants. But if he finds her first, we've got another dead body on our hands and an unsolved case".

"So why County Clare?"

"Because that's where she was the day before the murder, and that's where I am sure she has returned".

The sarge grunted at this, which in Kevin's book was the nearest thing to a yes. He sat back in his chair, turned it a semi-circle, then swung it back again, "you know we've located the Radley's. They are flying back from the French Riviera as we speak, as is their daughter's body being flown to London."

Kevin nodded but remained silent; he needed an answer about going to County Clare. The sarge saw as much and said, "Technically, I can't do a thing. Special Branch are already on this one."

Kevin rolled his eyes, "it's Batman and Robin for Jaysus sake. They wouldn't know an arse from an elbow and you know it." He watched the sarge suppress a smile but couldn't have guessed what was coming next.

Another officer knocked on the door, didn't wait for a reply and walked in. "Got a hit on Courtney's credit card Kevin", he said hurriedly. "You were right, she was easy to find."

Kevin nodded with a slight tilt of the head, "back in Clare, I suppose," he said confidently.

"No, actually" the officer began, "she's on a ferry to Liverpool - headed out from Dun Laoghaire early this morning......on a one-way ticket to Holyhead, which was purchased with her credit card."

Kevin's face barely flinched, but inside alarms were ringing loudly, while the Sarge looked like a pressure cooker about to explode.

The officer continued. "With the information she volunteered during questioning, I was also able to check her bank account; no major withdrawals have been detected."

"A one-way ticket" the Sarge said eyeing Kevin reproachfully. "Well for one who wasn't supposed to leave the country, I'd say she's not in too much of a hurry to come back."

The young officer nodded affirmatively. "And, sir, she has a train connection on to London – Euston Station to be exact."

Kevin didn't like the sound of that either. Once in London she could take a flight to anywhere in the world and then he'd really be up the Suwannee. An uneasy feeling began to settle in the pit of his stomach and a sense of foolishness made him feel hot under the collar. He fought off a myriad of doubts and tried to come to a more logical reason for her sudden departure. Still, he couldn't help wondering if he had seriously misjudged her; had he been so blind as to not see her capacity to murder another?

"Sir," Kevin said after the other officer left, "she just probably intends on seeing the Radley family".

"Or she's planning on feckin' disappearing!!! Either way she needs to be watched."

"What do you want me to do?" Kevin asked hopefully.

The Sarge picked up the phone on his desk, dialed a number, and while he waited for a response said to Kevin,

"You look like shite Hartnett. A trip across the Irish Sea would do you some good. So, fuck off with you now, and don't let me see you around here for two weeks. You're on paid leave from today, but I want to know how things are going. Keep in regular contact."

Kevin nodded, "every two days okay?"

"Grand, just get to London before she does."

The phone was answered on the other end. "Liam? How are ya?" the Sarge said with a rare and disquieting joviality. "Everything well?"

For anyone who knew the Sarge, this pseudo-happy tone meant that the poor bugger on the other end of the line was going to get the verbal equivalent to the beating of his life.

Kevin walked to the door, but the Sarge put the call on hold and shouted after him.

"Harnett" he grunted "remember the girl's a person of interest in an on-going investigation, not some shaggin' damsel in distress. Tail her; see what she's up to...discreetly of course!.......I don't want any Bobbies breathing down my fuckin' neck because they found you arsin' around their territory."

Kevin quickly left the office before any more conditions were thrown at him and while closing the door heard the Sarge return to his call with the same forced pleasantness.

*

A cold draught blowing in from the tracks swirled low around the concourse floor sending discarded papers fluttering to a new resting place. Of all those hurrying through Euston Station, nobody save the elderly janitor seemed aware of the stray waste billowing about, except that is for Kevin. He was leaning against a large pillar at a considerable distance from the arrival platforms, observing the heavy shuffling steps of the caretaker as he moved his mobile rubbish cart in stops and starts while sweeping up a few papers at a time; his slow automatic movements revealing a job done daily for countless decades.

Kevin wondered what it was like to work for so long doing the same thing day in day out without change of any kind; he concluded he would either end up demented or an expert, perhaps even both. Right now though he admitted to feeling somewhat demented, as confidence in himself as an officer, and supposed good judge of character, waned deplorably because of Lucy Courtney! How could he have been so blind!! All along he had been convinced of her innocence, not only because of her solid alibi, but because he believed her distraught state over the threatening notes and the loss of her friend to be truly genuine. However, since she suddenly dashed off on a one way ticket, he wondered if she had been playing him for a fool from the get go. His stomach burned again. Christ! He was probably starting an ulcer already. His eyes rose to the arrivals board – ten minutes to go.

He had been perfectly happy until she walked into his life and in a matter of days he had gone from chasing drug pushers to standing in a frigging train station in England freezing his arse off while he waited to see what she was up to. Of course his own stupidity played a large role in this mess because he had let his feelings for her get in the way of work; something he had been warned about from week one of police training. But all logic seemed to drift away when she had sat opposite him in the interview room. There was something alluring about her green eyes, the curve of her lips, the length of her sensual neck that he so wanted to kiss and........oh fuck it he was off again!

As the passengers made their way along the lengthy platform some eager friends and family members crowded the barrier of the arrivals access point, waving exuberantly at their approaching loved ones; others stood in the background, waiting to greet a partner with a more discreet hug or kiss, while business acquaintances simply shook hands. Kevin remained where he was, as it not only allowed him a clear view of all those walking from the train, it gave him adequate shelter to hide when Lucy would pass by.

He checked the time again; it was just after seven in the evening. His 90 minute flight from Shannon to Heathrow airport was a far shorter journey than Lucy's, which involved taking a train to Dublin, a bus to Dun Laoirighe harbor then boarding the ferry for a three hour crossing before finally taking a train from Holyhead to London. Hers was not the most direct route, but was one that did not require a passport: she had been asked to surrender it after giving her statement to Batman and Robin, until the investigation was complete.

Something was wrong. There was nobody waiting at the barrier and no other passengers in sight. Kevin swore under his breath. If she had absconded at Liverpool then he was completely screwed because he had no idea where to start looking, or if he'd even be allowed to look. The Sarge was the unforgiving type where screw-ups were concerned and would probably have him scrubbing toilets for the remainder of his days.

Seconds later he spotted the long flowing red hair coming up the platform and could not help but let out a low sigh of relief. Lucy had arrived safely, he was off the toilet-scrubbing hook, and all was as well as it could be.

His heart beat rapidly as he watched her approach the barrier, and he fought the urge to walk right over and hold her tightly. Instead a young, well-dressed man came out of nowhere and did exactly that!!! Kevin watched wide-eyed as Lucy smiled widely and held the broad blond haired man in her arms while he whispered in her ear. Kevin's instinct was to go and pummel the bastard to bits, but he remained at a distance observing in muted fury.

With his arm wrapped around her shoulder the man spoke softly as he passed the pillar where Kevin was standing.

"When I didn't see you coming Lu, I was so afraid you hadn't made the train. I just couldn't be without you; I really need you with me now."

While noting the accent was definitely local with a hint of an oxford education to it, Kevin did his best to ignore the surge of jealousy that he was feeling for the first time in his life.

"Julian" Lucy replied solemnly as she looked into his eyes, "I wouldn't have missed this for anything in the world, not even under suspicion of murder". At this they stopped walking and hugged each other tightly for a long moment.

"Fuck me" Kevin said to himself.

After they boarded a taxi, Kevin hopped into the next cab in line and as he asked the driver to follow the car ahead, slipped him twenty pounds. The driver nodded and no words were spoken for the remainder of the trip. The cab meandered through various streets of the city, as if they had no particular direction or purpose. Kevin was beginning to wonder if they even had a destination when Lucy's cab slowed considerably as it turned on to a wide tree-lined street with rows of elegant town houses, some of which were B&B's. It came to a complete stop in front of a flat roofed, orange-bricked rectangular building, and Kevin leaned forward and spoke to the driver "okay, just here is fine".

While paying more than the metered fare, he watched closely as the pair disappeared through two large gates at the side of the building then he got out of the cab and waited until it was out of sight.

Unsure of his exact location, he peered at a name on one of the B&B's vacancy signs a little further down and read Belview, High Street. The name did nothing to enlighten him, but it wasn't terribly important, so he walked to where they had entered moments earlier, and was surprised to read a sign over the door "Christ Church, Tunbridge Wells. The place certainly didn't resemble a place of prayer, but as long as it wasn't a hotel he didn't care.

Stepping inside he found himself in a large, yet simple vestibule whose odor reminded him of every other church he ever entered: furniture polish. On one wall, a large community notice board announced all sorts of up-coming events along with photos of recent gatherings, service hours and the vicar's coordinates. The opposite wall served as a coat rack for the congregation, complete with umbrella stand and shoe rack. Directly in front of him were two large doors with elaborate stained glass windows, and it was here that Kevin noticed a handwritten note taped to the door, "Funeral of Susan Radley, Saturday at 10 p.m.

He pushed open one of the heavy doors and found himself inside a vast, modern chapel where the dusk light accentuated the many elevated stained glass windows on both sides of the room. Rows of emerald coloured cushioned chairs were formed in perfect symmetry facing a matching carpeted alter. Directly in front of this alter a simple pine coffin stood on a trolley of sorts. Lucy and the man she called Julian had just released the brake of the trolley and began rolling it towards him.

"Kevin!" Lucy exclaimed fearfully as she stopped abruptly, "what are you doing here?"

Julian caught the alarm in her voice, "who's this, Lu?" he asked warily.

Kevin looked intently at Lucy and said gravely "I believe I am the one who should be asking you that."

A defiant look flashed across her face, "you wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Julian spoke to Lucy again "who is this chap?"

"Not now, Julian", she replied impatiently. Then turning to Kevin she said slowly "look, we really need to leave now, so please just don't interfere."

It took enormous control not to lose his temper, but Kevin managed to reply calmly. "You are asking me, a police officer, to allow you to steal the body of Sue Radley, a murder victim, whose death resulted in the imposition of the very travel restrictions you are currently defying."

Julian looked blankly from Lucy to Kevin, but said nothing. Lucy on the other hand did not appreciate his tone.

"Well if you put it that way it sounds like I'm doing a terrible thing!"

"Oh! So, body snatching is considered an honourable act in your book. Is it?"

Julian piped up again, but this time it was in frustration more than confusion "oh just explain to him Lu, instead of standing here wasting precious time."

"Yes, Lu" Kevin said parroting Julian, "Explain to me."

Rolling her eyes, she removed some papers from her satchel and handed them to Kevin, who eyed her suspiciously before taking them. He skirted through the details of Sue Radley's last will and testament. In it she announced Lucy as executor of her affaires, and explicitly requested her body be cremated in the event of her death.

"You're having her cremated?" Kevin exclaimed realizing, or at least hoping that this was the only reason she had left Ireland.

"Yes" they replied in unison.

Kevin glanced at Julian and wondered how he became involved. God only knows how she had twisted his arm and convinced him to participate in this insane plan.

As if reading his mind Lucy spoke. "Kevin, this is my good friend Julian Radley, Sue's brother. He is a barrister and the one who formulated Sue's will. That is why he is helping me."

Kevin was somewhat taken aback by this new perception of the man, and the whole situation for that matter. But still something was not right. "So, what's the hurry? Can't you have her cremated tomorrow?"

More odd looks were exchanged between Lucy and Julian, which made Kevin rub his hand through his hair with frustration. "Look, I need answers now, or I can have you arrested Lucy and hauled back to Ireland this instant".

"My mother is vehemently opposed to this", Julian interjected hastily. "She does not believe in cremation, and will....no, can have this stopped. Such are her connections."

A loud honking of a car outside made Lucy jump with fright. "He's here" Julian said firmly. "If we are going to do this, it will have to be now."

"Who's here?" Kevin asked.

"The hearse that will take us to the cremators; the driver's a good friend of mine."

Lucy looked pleadingly at Kevin, who, after a reflective pause, turned away, walked towards the entrance and held the doors open for the coffin. Lucy clapped her hands with joy, and both she and Julian quickly wheeled the coffin out of the church to their waiting friend. Going against all instinct, Kevin even helped load the box into the hearse and close the door. Julian hurried into the seat next to the driver and beckoned impatiently for Lucy to get in behind. Turning to Kevin, she stopped and said "thank you for understanding" then without another word put her arms around his waist and hugged him close to her. Unable to resist her warmth he hugged her back wanting desperately to do much more.

Once she was seated in the back seat Kevin suddenly sat in beside her. "What are you doing? She asked in great surprise.

"You hardly think I'm going to let you out of my sight now, do you".

"Well you had better not make any trouble" Lucy warned.

"You're capable of making trouble enough for the both of us".

Her mouth agape, she went to respond to this seemingly outrageous accusation when the hearse, which was just pulling out of the church grounds, screeched to a halt, narrowly missing a collision with an oncoming Land Rover.

"Blast it" Julian spat angrily. "She's here."

"Who?" Kevin asked.

"Georgina-she-who-must-be-obeyed-Radley," Julian replied sardonically while removing his seat belt. "I'll do the talking. Okay?" He stepped out of the hearse and waited for his mother to cease fussing with her husband about his deplorable driving.

"Charles!" She cried overdramatically in an accent Kevin found similar to the Queen's. "You are quite a mad driver you know. And I've told you before about erratic...." The sight of Julian beside the hearse was cause enough to interrupt the loquacious woman.

"Juju?" She called peering closer as if the street lamps were deceiving her eyes. "For goodness sakes whatever are you doing in there?"

Kevin, who had also gotten out of the hearse stood near the passenger door. He couldn't help noticing how her tall frame appeared extremely thin under a linen pants suit that looked like it was made exactly for her boney body. The skin on her face looked eerie, and unnatural, as if someone had tried to pull her jaws behind her ears, while her heavily wrinkled eyes stood out in stark contrast to the tautness of her cheeks.

"I'm just leaving, actually" Julian replied coolly.

Charles, a tall, elegant man with white cropped hair contouring an otherwise bald head, stepped silently past his wife, walked over to Julian and gave him a long hug. "Such a terrible thing to happen Ju," he said weeping softly. "Our poor Sue...gone just like that".

Julian held his father for a moment then tapped his back gently "I'll meet you back at the house later Dad, okay," he said wiping his eyes, "I just have a few things to do".

Mrs. Radley suddenly caught sight of the coffin and frowned momentarily in confusion. While approaching the hearse to question the driver she spotted Lucy, the person responsible for her daughter's death. The ensuing scene was not pleasant at all.

Lucy and Mrs. Radley glared at each other.

"What are you doing here?" she asked disgusted.

Julian spoke to his father "I should be able to drive around you there, Dad."

Mrs. Radley was still glaring at Lucy, "don't think you're going to get near my daughter."

"Even in death you are trying to hurt her" Lucy spat.

The perfectly groomed middle-aged woman scoffed lightly. "Don't speak such nonsense child. My daughter was my life, but I don't expect something like you to understand that."

"You never cared for her" Lucy retorted. "If you did you wouldn't have abandoned her in a boarding school."

"What nonsense! I wanted the best education for my child. Everyone knows that."

"If that is so Mrs. Radley, tell me why she was never allowed home at Christmas, or any other school holidays? In fact, if the school hadn't closed in the summer, Sue would never have seen the inside of her own home."

"I won't justify that with a response" she said hotly.

Mr. Radley went to interject but his wife silenced him with a raised palm.

"Well I'm sure then" Lucy continued "you won't mind me telling you that I know your daughter begged you to take her out of that school because she was being sexually abused there. She told you explicit details of the assaults and you not only did nothing, you sent her back without any remorse. Her spirit was broken in that place, but your lack of love completely destroyed it."

The tension in the parking lot was palpable. Mr. Radley went to speak, but once again his wife glared menacingly at him.

Lucy went on "the first time I saw Sue was when I was walking along the beach one evening in Majorca. She had walked into the water, not to have a midnight swim, but to drown herself. I went in after her, pulled her out, and got her help. That night we both gained because I had met a true friend. It took years for her to be able to tell me what had happened to her, and she struggled constantly with her past, but never with her future. She knew that in the event of her death she wanted to be cremated, not put in a box in the ground. That had already happened to her once at the school. So, with Julian's help, she prepared her last will and testament" Lucy removed the legally binding document from her satchel and shoved it into Mrs. Radley's hands for scrutiny.

"Look at it" Lucy commanded "she specifically requests her cremation in a non-religious ceremony with her ashes scattered in a place of my choosing. I am the sole executor of her will and so far, all I have done is what was given me to do." Then turning to Mr. Radley Lucy produced another letter, a fax sent the day she left for London. In it she advised the Radley's of Sue's burial request. "I told you I would have her cremated, and I will - make no mistake about that."

Julian spoke up "Lucy also contacted me about her intention to act according to Sue's instructions. I phoned mother who was in France at the time and advised her of this, but when she wouldn't heed me, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

"What are you talking about you silly boy" Mrs. Radley asked crossly. "I told you Sue would be buried in the Radley plot so what's the bloody problem?"

Disgusted at her lack of compassion and grief Julian turned towards his father who was standing stoically tears rolling down his face. "She was my little girl," Charles said through deep sobs. "Georgina here was never maternal, but we managed. When she wanted to send Sue to a boarding school at such a young age, I was against it, but Georgina insisted that it was the best thing to do. I knew Sue didn't like being there but I had no idea of the abuse." With a barely audible whisper, he uttered "she never told me."

"Father, I only found out about this when Sue came to me to have her will made. When she told me Mother knew all along but persisted in refusing to acknowledge that she was being abused I confronted Mother, who, of course denied knowing anything. That's when I asked Sue to have all her medical examinations confirming years of abuse along with police records on former employees of the school sent to me. " He paused for a moment and Kevin could see he was struggling with something, when he did speak it was the same as if a guillotine had fallen on Georgina Radley's head "Mother, I am undertaking post-humus legal proceedings against you and Sue's attackers."

Mrs. Radley began sobbing loudly but Julian felt no pity for her "Mother, it was not Sue's wish for these proceedings to take place while she was alive. She was far too scared. In fact she never knew if they would ever see the light of day. But, in the event of her premature death, she wanted me to do everything in my power to see you understood the years of horror she went through because you didn't love her enough to keep her near you."

Mrs. Radley looked like she was about to pass out while her husband, consumed with rage that had been suppressed for years turned to his wife "I blame myself for being blind to her needs but even more so for being blind to your cruelty. You're a heartless bitch Georgina and I never want to see your rotten fake face again. Consider this an official demand for a divorce!"

Then placing a hand on his son's shoulder said quietly "son, I'll be at the cottage." He turned to Lucy "have my Sue cremated. Perhaps later you'll tell me where you've scattered her ashes, so I may pay my last respects." With that he placed the car keys in Georgina Radley's hand and said coldly "drive it exactly the way you want, dear," then he walked away into the night.

Julian, Kevin and Lucy got into the hearse maneuvered around the Land Rover and drove away to have Sue's body cremated. Mrs. Radley stood stoically in the parking lot disbelief written across her face.

*

Several hours later a somber Kevin and Lucy found themselves alone in an upscale flat in Tunbridge Wells. It had been too late to get a flight back to Ireland, or to get a B&B, so Julian gave them a set of keys before leaving to join his father at the cottage. Just as their greeting at the station had been intimate, so was their parting, Julian and Lucy hugged each other tearfully for a long moment, promised to meet up soon then parted ways. Afterwards Lucy was withdrawn and pensive. The urn which held Sue's remains was the focus of her attention and kept her in silence. Kevin respected her need for privacy and set up bed on the couch, while she took the guest room. The truth be told he wanted to be centrally located in case she wanted to run off again. He couldn't wait to get back to Ireland because it was easier to chase drug pushers than to follow Lucy Courtney, but going back meant she was facing a terrible danger from which she had had a temporary reprieve. God only knew what fate awaited her.

Chapter 6. Memory lane

A soft drizzle speckled with the rays of a midday sun began to fall lightly over the empty market square in Kilrush town. Two young mothers chatting animatedly nearby turned their respective strollers and quickened their pace to seek shelter under the balustrade balcony of the Market House. The rain fell gently around them but they continued chatting and laughing while gently lulling their sleeping babies until the sun shower had passed. Although the various shops around the square were open, there were few shoppers about. In fact, The Lion's Head pub seemed to be the only place experiencing any commercial activity at all and even that was little compared to the hustle and bustle Lucy had seen on Market Day.

Sitting behind the wheel of her car observing the peace and tranquility of this quaint country village, Lucy longed to feel some sense of normality in her life again. Hannah and Sue's death had changed her world irrevocably, although she would not admit it aloud, she felt very scared. There was nothing normal about her present situation; it felt chaotic, terribly lonely and devoid of reality. How was she supposed to handle this mess? Where could she settle again? Not back to Ridgewood Crescent, that's for sure. The image of Sue's lifeless body on the porch, the yellow crime scene tape draping the house like a sash of death would be forever etched in her memory. Even retrieving what little possessions were installed there was not something she wanted to deal with right now, but at the same time putting these things off meant more trouble in the long run. She decided to resolve the whole thing by simply hiring someone to take her belongings to a storage unit, and putting the house on the market at the lowest price possible.

As for her grandmother's home, she could eventually move back there but without Hannah, it would just be a mausoleum to memories of her grandparents and parents. No place in the world appealed to her right now because making a home again did not seem possible when everyone she loved was gone. Perhaps she would just wander from place to place like a lonely vagrant until such time as she could settle down again. A temporary vagrancy of sorts appealed to her current state of mind and she decided to roam until a place that felt more homely came her way.

The sun shower had ended now and the young mothers were leaving the market square. Lucy checked her watch – a quarter after ten – it was time to make the call.

The public payphone was directly opposite The Lion's Head and Lucy walked reluctantly towards it. After placing the phone card into the slot she dialed the area code, the phone number and waited for a response.

"Harnett" came the crisp reply.

She paused a moment then said with a slight British accent "Hello, I'd like to purchase a get-out-of-jail-free card, please".

A long sigh followed and Lucy could hear Kevin swear under his breath. "You were supposed to have called last night. Where were you until now?"

He sounded condescending and she did not like it. A collective silence followed for a long moment until Kevin finally spoke "we had an agreement Lucy, and you did not respect that agreement."

"Kevin" she said tersely "settle down – okay!! I'm calling now."

"Where are you?" he asked forcefully.

"If you look at the caller ID screen, you will see where I am calling from."

"You're supposed to volunteer that information, and you know that."

She scoffed lightly "I was just told to call-in twice a day and say what I am doing. Nothing was said about divulging where I am."

"Okay Lucy" Kevin said patiently "what are you doing at this time?"

"I am calling a police officer"

"Do you know how close you are to being arrested?"

"Okay...okay....I'm calling a handsome police officer."

"What are you doing in Clare?"

"Sorry! I have to go......I'll call you again before 10 tonight, as agreed" then she hung up without waiting for him to reply.

Returning to the car she thought about the trip back from London; it was excruciating for several reasons, one of which was, the Sarge had established these restrictive conditions. He may have disguised his actions as a means to protect her, but she was no fool and knew she was the bait that would find them Sue's killer. In the end, they had the same goal. So while she was going along with their game, she was not abiding by their rules, or anyone else's for that matter, she was going to get answers.

After waiting patiently for over two long hours Stan Considine finally exited the house on Shore Road, climbed into his tractor that was parked at the gable end of the house and headed towards Moneen church. Lucy waited until he was well out of sight before making her way across the road and up to the house, knocked gently on the door, but when no reply came, turned the knob and walked in slowly.

"Babby?" she called out gingerly "are you home?" When there was no reply she peeked into the mahogany bedroom and saw a pallid looking Babby lying awake, staring up at the ceiling.

Lucy stepped over the threshold way and called softly, "Babby? Hello, it's me, Lucy Courtney, Hannah's granddaughter". The white head of fluffy hair turned slowly and looked at the doorway "ooh Lucy" she said weakly, "you came back?"

"Yes. I did Babby. Do you mind?" Lucy asked softly fighting back her tears.

"Not at all child" she said trying to prop herself up in the bed. "Come in, come in. Don't stay all the way over there."

Lucy approached the bed at Babby's gentle beckoning and noticed that Babby didn't look comfortable "would you like me to fix your pillows?"

"That would be so sweet of you, child. Do please". After Babby was propped up comfortably, she looked at Lucy and said conspiratorially, "Stan is gone for only an hour, so it's best that he doesn't see you when he gets back."

"Of course, I will go in just a moment."

"Stan can be so fierce. He means well, but when it comes to my well-being, or protection, he's not one to hold back."

"I'm sorry Babby" Lucy blurted "I'm so sorry for having upset you. It was not my intention to hurt you in any way,"

The old woman took Lucy's hand between hers and said "not at all child, not at all. Don't think for one moment that you had anything to do with that. I have been having these episodes for most of my adult life. They just come on me and I become, well....I...just end up taking to the bed. I'll be back on my feet again in a day or two, you'll see. It's always been this way, even when I was working for years as a nurse in Ennis. I sometimes had a hard time justifying the leave I took, but I managed. So don't you fret none."

Lucy got up to leave "Well Babby, I'll let you get your rest now. I just wanted to see you, and let you know that I never wanted to hurt you."

Babby looked at Lucy and frowned, "something's wrong child, isn't it? I can see it, your eyes, they look sad, so much more than the last time."

Lucy didn't want to mention that her best friend was just murdered, so she just said "I'm on a little leave myself at the moment".

Babby squeezed Lucy's hand for a moment then let it go. "I had started to tell you something the other day and I will finish it now. I was only fifteen years old at the time.

Lucy looked alarmed "Babby, if you tell me this you will have an episode all over again......Stan will kill me if....."

"Hush child" she said softly closing her eyes "just living with these memories has been horrendous, but never being able to talk about it has been killing me for years."

Lucy glanced out the window and thought that the instant she heard Stan's tractor approach, she was as good as dead.

"Now......it was a warm summer's day; Hannah and I had gone to Maura's Tea House for tea and cakes. This was a luxury beyond anything we'd had for a very long time, so we were very excited. Her husband Peader, who ran the general shop next door, was serving his customers when young Seamus O' Shea ran in and said there was a lorry load of Tans on their way. Everybody knew, the ruthlessness of their ways, especially after the massacre in Croagh Park, and so the word spread like wildfire around the community. Shortly afterwards the Tans tore into the village and stopped in front of the shop. Hannah, myself and Maura were quickly ushered into the back area, where we hid down behind the rolls of textiles and other produce. You could hear a pin drop when the six Tans came in demanding flagons of whiskey and bags of food for twenty men. Peader said nothing, but slowly prepared the order; the local men watched closely, waiting in silence. In the meantime more and more men from the village were turning up outside the shop, so that by the time the order was ready every man from Kilrush town had the place surrounded. Now the Tans had no intention of paying for the order and said as much to Peader. Being the quiet fellow that he was, he didn't protest, but slowly began to put the merchandise back on the shelves. One Tan got mad and aimed a rifle directly at his face. Gummy Mack was quick to react and stabbed the Tan in the ribs before he could fire. The ten other Tans, although armed were no match for twenty mad Clare men, so they left, but warned us they'd get us again, and they sure did."

Hannah took a Kleenex from her sleeve and wiped her eyes. Lucy was about to say something, but Babby continued "by the time we came out of hiding, the Tans were gone, as were most of the Kilrush men. Maura rushed Hannah, and I towards the main road out of the village and told us to cut across the fields and to remain out of sight as much as possible.

It was an hour's walk from the village back to Hannah's house, and we were about half way home and on a small beaten track when a young lad from the village ran past saying the Tans had come back and set fire to Peader's shop. Hannah and I became scared and decided to head for the main road because it would shorten our journey. We had just climbed over the low stone wall onto the road when a lorry of Tans passed us. They screeched to a halt when they saw two young girls without any men accompanying them, and started shouting awful things at us. Fearing for our lives, the two of us took off running across the fields as fast as we could. We sprinted through Nolan's field and then through three of Barry's fields, but exhaustion was getting the better of us. We were slowing down, but they seemed stronger than ever. They were predators on the hunt for prey. Hannah and I knew we were in trouble when we weren't being fired upon, because it meant that they wanted us alive. Looking back at it now, I would have been better off dead.

Mulchair's farm was in the distance, we felt that, if we could make it as far as there, we would be safe. Matt Mulchair was not only very outspoken against the British presence in Ireland, he was known to be armed to the teeth at all times. Holding on to hope for his help, Hannah and I gave our last spurt of energy to get there before the Tans caught us; we had to climb another small wall - one that bordered the farm - but with the state we were in, I stumbled over and hurt my leg; Hannah helped me up, but that lost us precious seconds. Hannah screamed out for help, but nobody came. We reached the door of the house and banged our fists loudly on it as we called out frantically, but nobody came. We ran around to the milking shed and burst through the doors hoping to see Matt, but the place was deserted.

Within seconds the Tans stood before us; they were panting, angry and armed. The looks in their eyes were closer to insanity than anything I've ever seen, and that's saying something. Hannah and I held each other tightly, but they pulled me away from her. I was held by two Tans and watched in horror as they dragged her by the hair out of the shed".

Lucy wiped the tears from her face and blew her nose into a tissue. No wonder poor Babby had difficulty dealing with her memories of that time, they were atrocious. She waited while Babby drank some water then after taking a long deep breath tears began to flow down her cheeks, but she continued on;

"Those animals kept me in that shed for days on end and did all manner of horrible things to me."

Lucy eyes filled with tears again as she looked upon this gentle old woman. How did she live with that pain for so long, and how did she even manage to suppress talking about such an ordeal?

"During my captivity" Babby continued, I was given neither food nor water; I was kept tied to the decomposing corpses of a couple of other Tan victims, and after a while I felt as dead and rotting as them. Every time the shed door opened, and I saw a Tan come towards me, I begged to be killed, but they only laughed. Soon, the smell got so bad, even they stopped coming in. When a Kilrush search party found me, they thought I was dead along with the others. In fact they had even put me on the cart with the other bodies before they realized I was still alive. At the hospital, they told the men who brought me in that I would die before the day was out. But, as you can see, I didn't."

Suddenly a noise startled them and they both looked towards the windows; Stan's tractor was pulling into the yard.

"Babby, Stan is back" Lucy said urgently," look, I'll have to go. Will you be all right?"

"Lucy, I have told you something that I have not been allowed to mention for sixty five years."

Lucy quickly scribbled down her phone number. "Babby, if you ever need me, call me at this number and I will be there for you." With trembling hands, the woman took the piece of paper and slipped it under her blanket.

Lucy spoke in a whisper "I really am sorry about this, but can you just tell me what happened to Hannah after you were captured?"

Babby stared at her and said "I don't know all of it, only some. She was taken in the Tan's lorry to their temporary barracks in Kilrush. I was hospitalized for some months, but then other things.....well it... turned very bad for both of us."

Lucy heard footsteps approaching on the gravel. "He's already here!" she exclaimed.

Stan walked in through the front door and called to Babby "Are you asleep?"

"No. I'm awake." she answered back. He removed his boots, hung up his coat and cap and walked into Babby's bedroom. "I'll put on the kettle then. Are you havin' a cuppa?"

"Grand so" said Babby "You know what? I'll get up for a bit; I've been in the bed too long" Stan turned around in surprise. "Are ye feeling better Babb's?"

"Well" she said with a weak smile "I can't stay in the bed for ever!" She watched Stan rub his hands together in glee and heard him go to the sideboard where he removed an unopened bottle of Paddy's whiskey. She knew he would be happy that her "episode" was short lived this time.

As Stan stepped outside the patio door to view the ocean under the afternoon sun, Babby slipped back into the room and tapped her foot on the floor beside the bed. Lucy peered out. "Is it safe?"

"Only for a minute; he always goes out the back for a smoke before he has a drink". She sneaked Lucy to the front door. "Go on before he sees you". Lucy turned and hugged her tightly "will you be okay Babby?"

"I'm grand. Don't you worry about me, child. You can't know how it feels to have spoken about this. Just talking to another person has done me more good than you'll ever know. Father Dempsey and yourself are the only ones who know about this. He wrote all about the Tan abuses. Now, you find Father Dempsey's records and you'll find out all about Hannah. I don't know the whole story, but he did. All I have is rumors."

A noise from the vicinity of the back door startled them. Lucy thanked Babby, then quickly left the house on Shore Road and returned to her car.

*

Lucy drove from Kilbaha to Kilrush; she was anxious to find any information she could on Father Dempsey and intended to stay here until the truth about Hannah was uncovered.

There were many Bed & Breakfast's scattered around the region, but to her surprise there was one just overhead The Lion's Head pub next to the Market Square. She pulled her car up to the parking space and entered through the bar area then sat in the comfortable and warmly decorated lounge. Starving for some home-made food, she ordered a plate of Irish stew with brown soda bread and a pint of milk. She ate heartily and even asked for seconds much to the cook's delight.

After finishing her meal, she enquired about a room for the night. The publican registered her name for an ensuite room which she paid for directly along with her dinner then left.

For now, a long walk and some much needed fresh air would be most beneficial. Lucy thanked God she had no need to worry about finances. Of course she was careful with how she used these funds, but when circumstances called for it, she had no problem spending.

After leaving the pub Lucy made her way across the town square towards the church; large drops of rain began to fall quickening her steps to the shelter of the church entrance. She twisted the large, looped iron handle that served as a door knob, but it blocked halfway; the door was locked. The rain was now falling heavily; Lucy looked around the corner to the left of the building and saw what must be the priest's house in the background. She ran quickly towards it, becoming soaked in the meantime. She knocked heavily on the glass and aluminum door, the rain falling incessantly on her as she waited a response. When there was no reply, she knocked even louder this time. When the door finally opened, Lucy had to stop herself from bursting in without invitation. A young and timid looking priest stood in the doorway staring at Lucy with puzzlement.

"Yes? Can I help you?" he asked.

Lucy frowned at not being invited in out of the rain and felt she would say something sarcastic. She eyed the priest warily "Sorry about calling so late, but I was just wondering if somebody might know anything about a Father Dempsey"?

The priest's reaction gave Lucy the impression that this was trivial and she had taken him away from something important. While the rain continued to soak her further, She looked at the priest and sighed "look, is there any chance I could step inside for just a moment?"

When he didn't respond, Lucy extended two open palms over her soaked clothes and said sarcastically "you know what? Forget it; I won't bother coming in after all. This cold involuntary shower that I am having is fine."

The priest suddenly seemed to realize that she was soaked and nodded his head slightly, then stepped aside to allow her to enter. She rushed inside and landed on an old grey matt inside the front door. Relieved to be out of the rain, she pushed her dripping hair back off her face with both hands, took off her coat and folded it across her arm. Once inside the narrow hallway the old, green and cream Victorian style wallpaper immediately caught her attention, as did the antique half-table that held the rectory telephone. An old, yellowed lampshade covered a 60 watt bulb hanging from the ceiling and Lucy felt as if she had stepped into a scene from the past. The young priest who stood before her didn't say a word.

"Am..." Lucy said removing two Kleenex from her sleeve and blowing her nose into them "I'm very sorry for turning up without having notified you, but I was just wondering if there is anybody here whom I could speak to about Father Dempsey?" The priest nodded as if he understood, but didn't react in any way; he just stood there stoically. Lucy frowned and felt her patience slipping away. "Maybe I didn't explain myself properly............" Again the priest nodded, smiled even, but didn't speak.

"Father Dempsey?" she said a little louder. Just then another, older priest appeared in the hallway. "Oh! Hello there" he called to Lucy "can I help you?"

She looked from the small but stocky, grey haired priest to the younger, silent one. "Yes, please" she said smiling with relief. "My name is Lucy and I was just asking...the young man here if anybody could help me find the records of Father Dempsey." She had just uttered these words when the old priest walked stiffly towards the young priest and pointed towards the door at the end of the hallway.

Lucy rolled her eyes, feeling extremely stupid; the young priest must be deaf! She immediately turned to the older priest and asked if he could tell the young priest that she was very sorry, she didn't use sign language. The lines on his furrowed brow deepened and he looked at Lucy strangely, "Why would I do that?

"Well, he can't hear - can he?" Lucy asked.

"Father Shinnors? Deaf?" he repeated. When Lucy nodded that that was what she meant he burst out laughing. "Father Shinnors isn't deaf! He's just had a bit of a bang on the head while coaching the under 16's rugby team; it's nothing too serious, but he's not all there for the moment."

"I didn't realize" she said with regret.

The older priest turned to her and said "not at all" he said lightly. "Now, it was Father Dempsey you were enquiring about?"

"Yes" Lucy replied. "I believe Father Dempsey was known for his historic recordings of the local current events of his time."

The priest nodded and said "He gave us so much. He spent most of his life carefully documenting everything he believed had a historic value."

"Is there any chance I could see them?"

"Oh, no, they're not here at all. They have all been carefully preserved at the local library."

She thanked the priest and left. Despite being soaked to the skin from the rain, she made her way directly to the library on Francis Street. It was only a five minute walk and once she got there, she was directed to the history section by a librarian whose name tag read Maeve. Then she was given access to photocopies of all Father Dempsey's journals.

She settled down near a large window and began reading. Over the next couple of hours she browsed through the historic accounts of many tumultuous years of life in Kilrush, Clare and surrounding areas. However nothing in these annals of history alluded to Hannah or Babby, for that matter. Although there were many Tan related stories, many truly moving because of the atrocity, nothing in them gave mention to Babby, or Hannah. Suddenly the lights flickered; Lucy looked around her and realized that there was nobody else left in the place. She stood up and walked over to the librarian who immediately understood her confusion and signaled that they would close in five minutes. Lucy nodded and checked her watch; shocked, she saw it was eight o' clock at night! She thanked the woman, but asked if there were any other journals by Father Dempsey that may already be checked out. The librarian explained everything they had was all there.

On the walk back to the B&B Lucy felt tired and disappointed; she really had been hoping to find the written accounts of Hannah and Babby's experience with the Tans. She wondered why it wasn't there. Maybe it didn't even exist at all, except in the mind of an old woman who had seen more than her fair share of terror. She felt bad for entertaining such ideas, but at the same time couldn't deny that Father Dempsey had perhaps never written anything to do with Babby and that this was just a big waste of time. Lucy shivered and wrapped her coat tightly around her. Sitting in her cold, wet clothes for hours had made her feel very cold and uncomfortable. On arriving back at the pub, Lucy went to the bar to get her key. The same publican was busy serving pints of Guinness to his thirsty clients, and became concerned when he saw the state she was in. "Eh....is everything all right Miss Courtney?" he asked loudly. A few of the customers turned away from nursing their stout to look at her; she smiled nervously and said she was just fine. The publican nodded at this and handed over the key to room five. Just as she said good evening the young barman looked up, nodded and went to the kitchen. She thought he looked familiar, but couldn't say from where she recognized him.

She followed the proprietor's directions to get upstairs and headed out towards the exit but instead of going outside she crossed a very small lobby then opened a door that led directly up newly carpeted stairs. At the landing there were two oak doors to the right, each displayed a small, domed and oval shaped ceramic illustration that distinguished the room for guests. She turned left and continued down a short passageway passing two other similar oak doors until she made a sudden right into an opening. Here was the last of five rooms; Lucy noticed the illustration on the door was that of a young woman wearing a long dress with an apron on her standing in front of a thatched cottage and holding a small blue bottle in her hand. It could be none other than Biddy Early. She leaned in closer to examine the minute writing at the bottom of the ornament just to prove she was right; a smile crossed her lips, written in script was the name Biddy Early. Her thoughts turned to Kevin's friend Mick at the Windmill pub whose drinks were akin to Early's cures. She turned the key gently, opened the door slowly, and quickly turned on the light then went inside.

She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, momentarily closed her eyes, and sighed with relief. She looked around at the room. The bed linen and drapes had a powerful floral design that was not easy on the eyes, but right now, she couldn't care less. What she needed more than anything was to get out of her damp wet clothes and get warmed up.

A short while later Lucy was relaxing in a hot, lavender scented bubble bath, the sweet aroma of which brought back childhood memories of when her mother would place a sprig of dried lavender under her pillow at night; she used to say it helped to have a restful night's sleep. Lucy smiled as she remembered her mother's words, and for a fleeting moment a sense of peace filled her heart.

Admittedly, she didn't think too often of her parents, even when they weren't sick they always seemed to be involved in other things; it was Hannah who was always there for her. Sweet, loving Hannah, she was so good and kind. Lucy found it impossible to imagine Hannah harming anybody; it seemed so contrary to her nature. But then again who knows what circumstances would drive even the sweetest person to act in such a way.

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply; her world had been changed forever. It had been invaded by an unknown who had taken her best friend's life; who had left an innocent woman bleed to death and who had robbed a family of their daughter – ignoring the psycho mother of course. The image of Sue's lifeless body lying on the ground flashed before her and made her shiver despite the warmth of the water. The terrible weight of responsibility for Sue's death hung heavily over her no matter how much she talked herself out of this train of thought.

The bath water cooled to an uncomfortable level, and Lucy added more hot water; she was lost in thought of where she would go tomorrow to try and find Father Dempsey's journal. Maybe a return visit to the rectory might prove more fruitful than today; perhaps it had just been a bad time to have landed unannounced. The sudden noise of a floorboard creaking just outside her door made her jolt up and grab a towel from the edge of the bath. Quickly wrapping it tightly around her, she stepped out of the water and listened intently for movement, but her pounding heart seemed to drown out all other noise. Armed with the only weapon available, Lucy moved forward toilet brush at the ready. Her heart was beating madly as she quietly turned the lock in the door opening it just a crack to see into the bedroom. Her body jolted suddenly, she gasped fearfully at the sight of a pair of menacing eyes hiding behind a black balaclava face. Reflexively she went to slam the door shut but the masked intruder swiftly placed a thick hob-nail boot in the doorway blocking her move. Silently, but forcefully, his thick arm slid inside the narrow opening and flailed wildly in an effort to grab her. With all the strength in her body she screamed loudly as she pushed against the door to prevent him from entering any further, but he continued to inch his way in. His knee now jammed the door and for the first time he spoke "No point in fighting Lucy. You're done for one way or the other."

Lucy didn't want to believe he was right. She didn't want to believe that she would die here, but she knew her ability to hold him off was dwindling as the seconds passed. Trembling from fear and waning adrenaline, she screamed forcefully one last time as she turned the plastic handle of the of the toilet brush in her hand and stabbed madly and repetitively on the intruding knee. He recoiled in pain giving her the only chance she would have to save her life. She slammed the door shut, bolted it immediately and with what strength she had left screamed at the top of her voice.

*

Kevin's expression was of serious concern as he looked across the table at a very pale and subdued Lucy. She appeared so thin and frail as she sat on a large, curved sofa that ordinarily was meant to hold at least ten revelers. Her hands were cupped around a steaming hot cup of tea, her eyes fixed on a spot on the table, and her thoughts....God only knew about them. One thing was sure the cup of tea she was holding wasn't going to do her any good; she hadn't even lifted the cup to her lips.

"Would you prefer something stronger? Tea isn't much good to a body after the fright you've had."

She looked up at him, and nodded no, her blood shot eyes filling with water as she did so. He fiddled with a paper coaster on the wooden table as he prepared the mental list of probing questions that he needed to ask her. He had gotten some preliminary information from the local police who were already on the premises when he arrived at the B&B over an hour later. What he learned was that a guest heard a scream coming from one of the rooms; when he didn't hear anything else, and because he wasn't sure which room it had come from, he went downstairs to notify the proprietor. While doing that several other screams for help were heard. The owner, the younger barman and the guest all hurried upstairs. After unlocking the door with the master key, they found the room empty except for Lucy who had locked herself in the bathroom. The room was currently being checked for anything that could link them to the perpetrator. Whoever it was, he was following Lucy closely because he knew exactly where to find her tonight. He could even be here now watching them as they worked. Turning his head slightly, Kevin glanced around the almost empty lounge briefly scanning the faces of those present in an effort to detect anything that stood out. Finding nothing out of ordinary, he turned his attention back to Lucy whose regard was still fixed on the table and deep in thought.

"I hear you're pretty handy with a toilet brush" he said lightly as he fiddled with the beer coaster.

She looked across at him as if coming back from a faraway place; she sighed deeply and wiped her eyes, but to his relief a hint of a smile crossed her face.

"I'm specially trained in toilet weapons" she retorted quietly but matter-of-factly.

"Hmmmm....that's a potent skill! You should consider commercializing that particular avenue of self-defence. I'm sure it would be successful."

She thought about this for a moment and said "maybe it would; I could call it something catchy like Kung Loo. "

In the silence that followed Kevin knew she was ready for questioning. He took out his notepad and pencil and said "do you think you could recognize your attacker again if you saw him?"

Her answer was a whispered "no".

"Was there anything distinctive about him? His eyes, his smell, any clothing brand that stood out?

Again she whispered "no. Well except for a strong odor of alcohol and cigarettes."

Kevin took a lot of notes and asked many questions over the next while as Lucy calmly recounted her ordeal in chronological order; she explained about how after managing to close the bathroom door she had stood screaming for help so loudly that she had not heard when help had actually arrived. The barman had banged on the door loudly, but she had thought that it was her attacker and started screaming again. After another few bangs on the door, she stopped screaming when she thought she heard several voices in the room. A man identifying himself as Garda O'Neil from the local police station tried gently persuading her to unlock the door, but she was so afraid of being tricked that she didn't budge. It was only when the barman became frustrated at the negative attention this was having on his establishment and shouted "for feck sake girl, come out before I charge you double for the trouble you've caused" that Lucy felt reassured and silently unbolted the door. When she finally pulled back the lock and stepped cautiously over the threshold, Garda O'Neil was admonishing the barman for his lack of tact. He turned towards her and said "that's a good lass. You'll be all right now, not to worry". After giving her a moment to get dressed she accompanied the men back downstairs to the bar. There, a lot of curious customers gawked at her as if she was a deviant of some sort, but she ignored them and allowed herself to be lead to where she now sat. Kevin indicated that the interview was over by thanking her for her courage and patience. He didn't say that he still had nothing that was solid enough to make a positive ID, unless he could arrest an average sized guy with a Clare accent, blue eyes, and a thick arm, who was on the sauce and ciggies; she didn't need to hear that, even if she was thinking it. He put away his notepad, and checked the time, it was almost midnight.

"Well Lucy, I doubt you'll want to stay here tonight, so you're welcome to come to the boat, or I can take you back to the Windmill. It's your choice".

"Well if you don't mind" she said standing up, "I think I would like to stay at your place". Kevin felt relieved that she would stay with him; he didn't fancy staying awake wondering if she was in danger again.

"But there's one condition" she said as he put on his jacket. He stopped in his tracks and looked warily at her "go on" he said in mock suspicion.

"I have plans for tomorrow; they're important to me, so I don't want to be restricted or confined to any place. Okay?"

Kevin faced her, and looked at her with great tenderness. "Lucy Courtney, you can do as you please because if anything is going to happen I'm going to be around this time." And with that he snapped the handcuffs on each of their wrists and headed rapidly towards the door. "This time it won't make a difference if you don't phone in your presence because I'll be around to know what you're up to!"

The barman frowned angrily when he saw Lucy being pulled along by the plain clothes cop and called after her "So you were up to no good! Well, now I am going to charge you double for all the feckin' trouble you caused. Ya pup ya!!!"

*

Sitting in a cold damp car, the man peered through his night goggles observing the couple as they left the pub. He frowned, there was something odd about their behavior; he increased the binoculars magnifying power and moved forward in his seat. He swore under his breath as he watched the pair awkwardly board the car; the girl was struggling, fighting. She was handcuffed! Throwing the binoculars quickly to the passenger side, he fumbled to start the car. It was going to be tough killing her if she was tied to a cop. He put the car in gear, swore with the pain in his knee and drove off after the unmarked car.

Chapter 7. Detours

Back in his house-boat after making many detours and availing of the services of the local police, Kevin set Lucy down gently on the small sofa and retrieved the key to the handcuffs from his jacket pocket. He knew and understood that she was very angry, but if she was to survive, if she was to be safe, keeping her close to him was essential. They were dealing with.....he didn't really know what they were dealing with.....a nut of the murderous sort who was out there somewhere, and whose only goal was the death of this woman. Why someone would want to kill her was beyond him. Kevin felt certain though, that if they didn't catch this guy soon, Lucy's life would end just as abruptly and violently as Sue's.

Admittedly, handcuffing Lucy and hauling her out of the pub was not the smartest method to demonstrate that her personal safety was all he had in mind. If anything, his actions probably resembled those of a disturbed individual, much like the nut who attacked her tonight. He should have found another way to convince her that she needed protection, but it was a bit late for that. Obviously, he had scared her; and another trauma was the last thing she needed, especially after the tumultuous events of the past few weeks. Yet, he knew he would be wrong to judge her as being weak, psychologically speaking that is; because despite all that she had been through, her grandmother's death, the murder of her best friend and being attacked tonight, she seemed to possess a strength of spirit, of character, that bordered on defiance: A profound defiance towards death. In fact, he was amazed at how she was dealing with the whole situation.

He leaned towards her, inserted the minute key into the lock, turned it until the cuff sprang open, and then removed it. As he placed the cuffs on a small table beside the couch she rubbed the irritated skin on her wrist then suddenly lashed out, hitting him hard on the cheek. "You bastard!!!" she yelled, her voice shaking, tears welling up in her eyes. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Kevin, holding his jaw in astonishment at the force of the right hook he just received said "For Jaysus sake woman, I'm just trying to help you!"

"You call handcuffing me and dragging me like an animal through a pub helping me? After what happened tonight!.....I mean, of all the bloody eejity things to do! I mean what possessed......."

"Lucy!" he yelled, to get her attention then lowered his voice when she had stopped speaking "look, I'm sorry. I truly am. But handcuffing you was the only thing I could think of at the time."

She wiped her eyes, stood up, and stormed past him saying "just don't try and help me anymore. I've had about enough help from you as I can handle".

He was about to explain himself further when the boat suddenly listed. Lucy, who had just reached the cabin door, spun around towards Kevin, her eyes wide with fear.

He motioned silently for her to move away from the door then quickly slipped off the couch, turned off the light and moved stealthily to the long but narrow cupboard near the entrance to the boat. There, he opened the door, reached up and pulled across some clothes hanging above a deep wooden chest feeling urgently for a very small groove. When he found it, he gripped it, pulled hard and opened a hidden section that held a regular hunting rifle.

The gun had been a gift from his brothers who, as avid hunters believed they could convert him to participate in their regular expeditions; but he had never gone because he was not the hunting type. He had yet to use the rifle other than for target practice. Rooting further down, he pulled out a box of cartridges, placed them on top of the chest, removed the thin vinyl casing from the rifle and loaded it. He closed the cupboard door then discreetly peered out the window that gave on to the small river bank and winding graveled road. It was pitch dark outside, there were no street lamps in this neck of the woods, which had been the whole reason why he had bought the boat in the first place- living as far away from people as possible was a necessity in his life. Tonight though, he could have done with some street lighting, but the only lights to be seen were those coming from some houses further away in the distance.

He glanced at Lucy who had backed into the confines of the cuisinette and was seated on the kitchen floor looking at him and the weapon in stoic disbelief.

"We might have been followed here" he whispered as means of an explanation "got to be prepared. Although I hear this" he said pointing to the rifle "doesn't beat a toilet brush".

She smiled weakly then went to move towards him, but he waved an open palm at her to stop. "No" he whispered "wait there. I'm going to check outside first."

He rose slowly, peered discreetly out the window without disturbing the blinds then moved towards the door; with the safety off, and the rifle at the ready, he quickly pushed down on the door handle tore open the door. His body jerked with fright at the sight of three hooded men standing menacingly on the jetty. Without even getting a chance to fire, the three men jumped on him simultaneously; one grabbed his arm, another took the rifle while another flipped him on his back and straddled him. Fearing for his life and Lucy's he fought hard struggling to free himself.

"All right, all right "the man sitting on him said "don't shite in your pants".

Kevin suddenly went limp "Ye fucking bastards! All of yez!" Kevin shouted as he immediately recognized the voice as that of his older brother Ham.

"We'll let you up, if you promise you're not going to be mad" came another voice, that of his other brother Dan.

"I'm going to effin kill yez" Kevin warned.

"Well with the way you fight, we should be all right" said the youngest of the brothers, Eamon.

Kevin whose heart was beating madly, and whose breathing was laboured from the fright, stood facing the three men who were grinning like hyenas, pride beaming from them at the success of their latest coup. He grabbed the rifle out of Eamon's grip and said "if it takes me the rest of my life......I will get you bastards back tenfold......for what yez just did."

"That's grand" Dan said laughing "we're scared shitless"

Ham, and Dan, stood side by side, and Eamon, the youngest stood slightly taller behind them. "Would ya look at that lads!" Ham exclaimed with delight to the others "Kev's actually using the rifle." The other brothers looked at him proudly but their expression changed when he said he wasn't using it".

"Ah for feck sake Kev" Ham said with dismay "make up your shaggin' mind. Either you're using it or you're not.

"I just said I'm not!" Kevin replied hotly. Only Ham could get him riled like no one else. Kevin knew he could go from calm to angry in a split second when Ham was around. Still, despite appearances, there was a brotherly love between the four that was difficult for outsiders to see. They had spent their whole lives teasing, slagging, tussling and fighting for dominance amongst themselves. Yet whenever any of them was down or in trouble, they banded together, unified in the face of their problems. While Kevin chose to live away from the close proximity of his family and the village they lived in, his brothers all lived and worked in the tight-knit community of Ballyog. They farmed their own land, and like the wildness in the ethos of that county, there was a wild side to his brothers that Kevin never possessed. He hadn't seen them in a couple of weeks and wondered what had brought them down to the boat!

"And what's with the new wheels?" Ham asked still grinning "traded in your own car for a police car did ya? Bit effin obvious isn't it!

"My own car is in the garage, if you have to know" Kevin replied indignantly "that's...am... my replacement for the moment

"It says Kilrush police division on each side there; what are you doing with a Kilrush police car?

Kevin didn't want to start discussing the details of the evening; "Driving it" he answered sarcastically "what brings you three stooges down here?

Ham eyed him suspiciously then said "well you look all right to me". Then he turned towards the gravel road and roared loudly "IT'S All Right Ma! He's here!! You can walk back home."

"Ma's here?" he gasped "in the middle of the night? You can't let her walk home by herself" he said straining his eyes, but seeing nothing. Just as he was about to holler back, something dawned on him "Ma's not out there is she" he said looking at their grinning faces.

The three all laughed in unison "Arra you're a daft bastard Kev" said Ham , as he grabbed Kevin in a bear hug before steering him back into the boat house "you'd swallow anything we tell ya!!"

"Fuckers!" Kevin said with a smile as he entered the cabin and turned on the lights.

As Dan followed Kevin and Ham into the boat house, he noticed Lucy sitting in the dark corner on the kitchen floor.

"Jaysus Kev!" he said walking over to Lucy "no wonder you're still single if that's the way you're treatin' the women".

Dan was about the same height as Kevin but with light brown hair. His physique was that of a man used to hard work, broad shoulders and a lean body. Offering his hand for her to take he asked jovially as he gently pulled her up "now what has you sitting on the floor in the dark girl?"

"He handcuffed me then brought me here in his car" she answered innocently. The three men looked at Kevin in shock and turned menacingly to their brother; but only Kevin could see Lucy smile widely.

"Now lads", he said walking backwards as the three closed in on him "I brought her here for her own protection."

Ham, the oldest had earned his nick name during childhood when his physique was quite chubby. While puberty and farm work eventually shaved off much of his surplus weight, his recent fondness for fried foods after a couple of pints at his local was slowly returning him to his former stature. On such a broad, solid frame he looked like a force to be reckoned with.

"Ya bastard ya! Wait till our Mother hears she's raised an effin pervert" Ham said in disgust.

"I'm not a pervert!" Kevin protested as he was pushed onto the couch. "Look, I'm telling you...."

He didn't get a chance to finish, Eamon, who bore no resemblance to his siblings and was often referred to as a scallion because of his long thin wiry body, was holding up the pair of handcuffs that had been lying on the side table.

"Would these be the handcuffs that were used to confine and control you young lady?"

There was a pregnant silence as all four men waited for her response.

Kevin, whose eyebrows were raised in dread, looked straight at her knowing she had the power to have him pummeled. After all, having a woman sitting on the kitchen floor in the dark was kind of hard to explain. Lucy looked into his eyes for a moment and an unspoken truce of sorts was formed there and then.

"It's okay lads, really" she said lightly. "He's no pervert, believe me. If anything, he has been very gallant in trying to protect me."

Kevin sighed with relief, Ham expressed disappointment at not being justified in giving him a whack, and Dan quipped up "Kev, we never thought for a second that you could do something perverse... but then again we didn't know how desperate you were for a date!"

"Haw, haw, haw" Kevin replied sarcastically. "If you really want to know, this is a very serious police matter and I'm not at liberty to discuss any of it".

"That's not necessary" Ham said making his way to the fridge "Sean down at the pub told us everything. We know all about Lucy and the toilet brush".

Kevin turned to Lucy, "I'm sorry about this; they've always lacked tact. My Mother says it comes from my Father's side – a genetic defect".

"Right then" Dan said to Kevin, "Let's go".

"Go?"

"Yeah. Ma heard about the problem in the pub tonight, and wanted to make sure you were all right. We said we'd bring you back to the house as proof. But just to let you know we'll be taking a slight detour to Riordan's for a pint, he's got three Guinnesses waiting for us back there.

"I'm not going anywhere" Kevin said replacing the rifle back in the cupboard. I'm on duty and I can't just take off like that".

Lucy felt he was only agreeing to stay because she was there "Kevin, you should go; your mother needs to know you're well. I've got to be going anyway. I'll just need to get back to my car".

It was Eamon's turn to interject "there's no way you're going sleeping in a car at one in the morning. No matter how slow the season is."

Lucy immediately glanced at her watch "oh my God, I didn't realize how late it was."

Kevin went to the door, opened it and said "tell Ma I'm fine and that I'll see her soon".

The brothers knew when Kevin would not deviate from his decision and so they filed out after saying goodbye to Lucy.

Ham called out to Kevin as he crossed onto the bank, "if that police matter you're on requires reinforcements, you know where to find us". Kevin laughed as he took in the jetty; then raised the anchor before guiding the boat a little further out onto the river.

When he had locked the cabin door he turned to Lucy and said "I'm so sorry about that. Not many people can handle their antics. They're certifiable".

Lucy smiled, "it's okay really. I'm sure they're really sweet".

"Well I wouldn't say that, but they're decent lads". Kevin stayed by the window "we should be safe here tonight. The only way we could be seen now is if someone is either on the river, or in it. We should be able to get some sleep for tonight at least".

Lucy nodded, but really didn't feel safe anywhere. "This won't end while he's still out there" she said in a matter-of fact tone, but inside she was feeling dismay.

Kevin sighed; it wasn't words of comfort that Lucy needed to hear now, but the truth. He moved away from the window and sat close to her.

"In all honest, whoever this guy is Lucy, he is hunting you down; he's driven by a desire to see you die. Why? I do not know, but you will not be safe until he is captured. Even now we're not safe, we could have been followed. I believe he was still in, or around the pub after the attack, but without the balaclava and dark gear; he could have passed off as any other customer. I got a feeling he was there that's why I made it look like I arrested you. I wanted him to think you were being brought in for questioning. It was to buy us time more than anything else. That's why I drove around for more than an hour before coming here. I had to be sure we weren't being followed after we left the police station. If he was watching us enter, he should still think we're in there because my car is still parked outside".

He noticed how Lucy had listened intently, appreciating his honesty. Before he continued on his stomach grumbled loudly "I suppose I had better prepare something to eat; are you hungry too?" he asked getting up. Lucy didn't reply but held his hand so that he sat back down again.

"Look" she began hesitantly "I need to tell you something. I left the Windmill not only to look after Sue's affaires, but because I desperately need to find out about my grandmother's past. Before she......"

Kevin said nothing, her dismay at what she was about to reveal was audible, and he preferred to wait letting the silence grow until she was ready.

"....On her death bed" she continued "Hannah mentioned, quite convincingly, about having slit someone's throat, and I really, really need to know if that occurred. Maybe something in those words holds the answers to what's happening now. I don't know. I mean I haven't a clue how to piece the bits of information that I've gathered so far, but I know that there is one vital object necessary to solve this mystery and that's a priest's diary. That is what I'm doing here in County Clare"

"A diary?" he repeated puzzled. "Who's diary?"

"Father Dempsey's. Apparently he recorded the local events of his time in small journals, including, it would seem, Hannah's story."

"Maybe she didn't commit any such act" Kevin said thinking aloud "maybe she had heard of someone having their throat slit which prompted her to relive the event in her dying moments"

"You didn't see her face when she spoke those words" Lucy explained. "And as much as I want to believe it was only a medicated induced reaction, I have strong doubts which are making me obsessed. I need answers and I know I will find them here in County Clare."

Kevin felt that after what happened tonight it would be much safer to lie low here until the perpetrator was caught, but when he tried to suggest as much she held up her hand in protest "Kevin, No!" She exclaimed louder than intended. "I can't stay hidden in here forever. I mean your home is lovely and cozy, and I thank you for your kindness, but you have a life and a job, and this is not even your problem. I'm sorry you got involved at all." If Kevin tried to get in a word Lucy wouldn't let him; she had not finished saying what had to be said. "Look, if I hide, I might as well be in a prison, always looking over my shoulder, living in the shadows, wondering when I'll have my throat slashed; It's no way to live. And no amount of protection from anybody will help if this person is determined to kill me. That's why I need to get that diary".

"Then we'll search for it together" he said with determination finally getting a word in. She went to speak, but it was his turn to hold up his hand in protest "no arguments, no conditions. I won't have it any other way".

"Okay, well one condition. If after three days we haven't found it, you go back to Limerick and I keep searching". She proffered her hand to seal the deal. "Agreed?"

He wasn't entirely in agreement but he figured he could negotiate an extension when the deadline approached. He convinced himself he wasn't lying because technically he would be reporting back to his boss.

"Agreed" he answered taking her hand in his; their eyes met and this lingered look was fuelled with a desire to kiss. They quickly retracted their hands and to cover the awkward silence that followed, Lucy spoke "so, we've agreed to that. What now?" she asked.

"Grub, and plenty of it" he replied. "Are you hungry?" he asked her.

"Starving" she replied smiling.

*

In the pitch dark night, a pair of watchful eyes surveyed the entrance of the police station. The unmarked car was still in the exact spot where the cop had hastily parked it before he had hauled Lucy out and brought her inside. That was four hours ago, neither one had come out yet. He took another long swig from the small whiskey bottle, inverted his lips tightly as the strong liquid burned its way down to his gullet then threw the empty bottle on the floor. He checked his watch, the time read one a.m. He didn't care, how long the night would be, nothing was going to stop what he had to finish. If he couldn't kill her tonight, it would be very soon.

*

In the bright morning sunshine, they exited the church and shaded their eyes as they looked across the road at the large two-storey, stone house. The eighteenth century building stood at the end of a narrow, but principal street in the heart of the village. The old grey stone walls were beautifully maintained, the windows long, luxuriously curtained rectangles positioned with three on either side of the large black door, and four more on the second floor. A large, professionally sculpted garden contoured the house; its manicured grass was bordered on the left side by a large babbling stream whose fresh, crystal clear water rushed under a small bridge, giving the villagers access to the other side of their community. Kevin turned to Lucy and said "looks like something the old British gentry would have built; are you sure the priest lives here?"

Lucy nodded as she checked the address on the piece of paper in her hand "this is what I got from the community newspaper. There was an article about a procession next week that would be starting from the church; they asked groups interested to give their names at the priest's house. This is the address.

"Okay then" Kevin said moving forward, "let's see if we can get this diary. If not we'll go for a bite to eat and go over the facts that we have so far, see if anything can pinpoint us in the right direction."

She nodded in agreement and followed Kevin across the quiet street. They stood in front of the imposing door and Lucy lifted the large heavy brass door handle and tapped it against the brass base. Their eyes wandered about their surroundings, until they heard footsteps approaching from inside.

"Hello". Lucy said cheerfully to the matronly housekeeper who opened the door. "I would like to speak to one of the older priests of the parish, if that's possible, please."

The middle-aged, dour faced woman frowned deeply in disdain as her cold eyes regarded them both from head to toe. "What do you mean you want to speak with an old priest? What's this about?" she asked gruffly, her eyes catching Lucy's in a suspicious glare.

"Am...I would rather not say" Lucy replied awkwardly "it's a private matter".

The woman continued to scan her in vertical sweeps while she considered Lucy's request. Feeling uncomfortable at the woman's probing, Lucy was about to try a different approach when the woman spoke. "Monsignor Montgomery is the oldest priest in the parish."

"Okay, great" Lucy said enthusiastically "may I speak with him?"

The woman gave a weird grin then folded her arms "you can, if you can get a comatose man to talk to you" she said with finality.

Lucy sighed, feeling not only disappointed but her patience slipping away "well can you tell me who else here is elderly, but healthy that I may speak to?"

The woman unfolded her arms and opened her mouth to talk when Kevin presented his police identification card and said authoritatively "this is a police matter; it's important that we speak with another elderly priest here."

The woman did not seem fazed at all by this and spoke to them harshly "there is only one elderly priest here, and he is fast asleep. I want him to remain that way until after lunch when Bridie gets here because she's the only one who can help me manage him."

"I thought you said he was healthy" Lucy interjected.

The woman rolled her eyes and spoke to them both as if they were mentally challenged "he's healthy in body, but not in mind, so I will not have you waking him up now just to ask him questions about things he has no idea about."

"I want to try anyway" Lucy said firmly. "I'll wait until he's awake, but I want to try and speak with him."

Kevin didn't wait for an invitation; he stepped into the hallway and asked to be led to a place where they could wait. The shocked housekeeper was momentarily speechless as she realized she couldn't do anything about their presence. Closing the door behind them she said in a harsh whisper "don't either of you make noise that will wake him up, or you'll find out I'm not as welcoming as I look!"

Lucy suppressed a laugh as she followed the housekeeper in silence until they entered a living room that resembled something out of a Jane Austen novel. Everything was antique and beautifully maintained; the only things modern was some photos on a thickly wallpapered wall. She went in nearer for a closer look and saw three grey haired, smiling priests standing on either side of a white robed Pope. Another photo showed the same three priests standing behind two younger priests.

She walked around taking in the amazing décor before joining Kevin on a beautifully maintained Victorian mahogany couch. "I thought the clergy lived modestly" she said touching the pink satin material on the couch.

"They do, usually" he answered closing his eyes and leaning back to get comfortable. He hadn't slept well last night, and it had nothing to do with a predator being on the loose; it had everything to do with Lucy sleeping in his bed. He had set up camp on a small inflatable mattress on the floor, but all he could think about was climbing in beside Lucy and making love with her. He knew they had fleeting moments where they seemed to reveal feelings for each other, but then again maybe he only imagined that because that's what he wanted. One thing was certain, it was going to be really tough keeping Lucy safe from a criminal, and not touching her. He dragged his thoughts back to her question. "I suppose there are exceptions to everything".

"Yeah, well this small mansion is certainly an exception" she said looking around her. "I'm curious as to how they acquired it".

Kevin frowned, opened one eye and looked at Lucy "Why? Would Dickensian conditions be more acceptable to you?"

"That's not what I meant"

"That's exactly what you meant".

She looked questioningly at Kevin; there was an unexplained tension between them both since this morning, and she wondered if agreeing to him being with her was such a good idea. Something told her it wasn't.

"Look" she said as if explaining to a child "all I'm saying is, that if one takes a vow of poverty but ends up living in the equivalent to Adare Manor, natural curiosity would make one wonder how that came to be. That's all!" She rolled her eyes, stood up, walked over to the corner of the room and stood beside the long window; copious amounts of voile material draped softly over the window pane and gently screened her face from the morning sun.

"You're exaggerating Luce!" He said coolly.

"About what?" she asked looking outside at the beautiful well-tended garden reposing in the quiet of late winter, and the babbling stream rushing by in its haste to join the river.

"Adare Manor!" he scoffed "this place is nice, but it's nothing like Adare Manor. I mean have you ever been there, or stayed there? It's very luxurious. Whereas here, it's big, yes. And the furniture is antiquated. But that's it!"

Lucy turned to gaze at the long metal pendulum of the majestic grandfather clock "well" she said touching the rich deep wood "I certainly will be asking the good curate of this place how he came to be living here".

It was Kevin's turn to roll his eyes "you cannot ask an octogenarian with dementia that kind of question. Where's your sense of propriety?"

Lucy didn't answer that, but instead asked coyly "so, when did you spend the night at Adare Manor?" When he didn't answer, she joined him on the couch and leaned in towards him a little as if to hear better "well Kevin" she said teasingly. "Confessional is now open; who was this special woman? And why aren't you still with her? Hmmm" She nudged him playfully while waiting for an answer, but none came. His sigh and tightened lips told her he was trying to say something, but somehow wasn't able to. Painful memories, she thought to herself, are never easy to hide.

The silence between them was too long for her to continue questioning him in that direction, and even though her curiosity was piqued about his past loves, she thought some things are better left unsaid. Understanding this, she went to get up to leave him with his thoughts, but he called her "Luce, come, sit back down, please". She looked at him for a moment and sat back down. "It's okay Kevin, I didn't mean to pry. I just thought....you know...."

Kevin looked into Lucy's eyes for a moment, and said softly "I can't go back there Luce" he said about remembering the past "but I would like to go here". Then he pulled her gently towards him and kissed her tenderly. When Lucy responded to his kiss, that tender embrace quickly became more passionate, as the unspoken mutual attraction for each other surfaced like a hot spring out of the cold snow. But this very brief, yet passionate moment was quickly broken when the living room door burst open and there in the doorway stood the housekeeper, Bridie her helper and a very old priest with a walker. All three looked on in surprise at the lip-locked pair; and Bridie's sentiments at the sight were immediately vocalized "Oh for the love of all that's good and holy Nula, would you look at that!" she said blessing herself. "Father, go back to the kitchen".

Kevin and Lucy had already sprung up from the couch and quickly stood apart. "What's going on?" the housekeeper asked looking from the visitors and then to Bridie.

"We were only kissing" Kevin interjected hotly. There's no harm in that!"

Nula went to reply to that, but never got a chance because the elderly priest suddenly spoke up and asked Nula and Bridie to leave him. He stumbled into the living room with the aid of a walker, the helpers rushing quickly to help him, vigilantly watching his every move. He stopped, and breathlessly asked them once again to leave him with his visitors, which they finally did comply to. Once the living room door was closed Kevin and Lucy moved out of the way as the priest maneuvered nearer to the couch; they watched as he positioned himself to sit down then bent unsteadily before falling heavily onto it. Once he had settled comfortably he looked at Lucy and Kevin who were watching the arduous task that such a simple thing as sitting down involved for somebody with reduced mobility.

"It looks worse than it is" the old priest said hoarsely. "At my age, I'd take a pair of gammy legs over some other health problems any day. I mean, I might not get around rapidly, but it could be worse; I could have Alzheimer's or some awful brain-eating disease like that. Picture the poor fella who has that and doesn't even know it. I'd prefer anything to that disease!"

Lucy and Kevin looked at each other but said nothing. What could they say; they could hardly announce to him that he is that poor fella. Suddenly the old priest bent over and went into a fit of coughing; the hacking sounds seemed to come from deep within his chest cavity.

"Do you need help?" Lucy asked urgently as she rushed to his side. He said nothing but hacked away. When he sat up and looked at her, she frowned at what she saw. He was not coughing, but judging from his red face and big wide smile, he was laughing himself into a cardiac arrest!

It took him about five minutes before he could explain that their expressions were the best he had seen yet when he pulled the gammy leg joke.

"You mean you don't have Alzheimer's? Lucy asked confused.

"Look child" he said wiping his eyes with a cloth handkerchief "my housekeeper of twenty six years, Nula, and her friend Bridie are two very nice people in their own way, but they would drive you insane with their diagnostics. According to them I've had everything from malaria to botulism. They have me as an Alzheimer's patient since I forgot about Nula's birthday a couple of weeks back. I'm not fighting her on this because I'm having too much fun with it."

Lucy smiled, but wasn't sure if the man really was having a great laugh out of a misunderstanding, or if he was overmedicated and suffering from dementia.

"Am, Father" Lucy said hesitantly "we are here to speak to you about a Father Dempsey. Apparently he resided here during his time as a parish priest."

"Oh I remember Noel Dempsey well" the old man answered. "We went through some tough times together back in those days".

Lucy felt she couldn't dance around the subject, so she went directly to the point "I believe Father Dempsey was a meticulous historian, that he wrote detailed accounts of events throughout his whole life, but particularly during the turmoil of the invasion of the Black and Tans." She let this linger, waiting for him to remember what he could about these events.

"Yes, I knew all about Father Dempsey's journals; they were brilliantly written pieces of work, and above all, they were accurate."

"So you've read them?" Lucy asked

"Every single one!"

When Lucy smiled widely, the old priest smiled in return "Yes, my dear child. Their contents were explosive politically, and not for the faint of heart at all."

Even though she knew many of the journals were at the library, she wanted to know if there were others elsewhere. "Do you know where I could find these journals?"

He thought for a few moments then said "well, I believe they're still at the local history reference section I think".

"Are they all there?"

At this the priest looked sharply at Lucy and asked "would you mind telling me exactly why you need to know about these journals?"

Lucy thought about this, and not wanting to go into any particular details said "there is vital information within one of those journals about a family member of mine and it is imperative that I find it".

The old priest seemed satisfied with that and continued on "I cannot remember exactly how many were written, but I will tell you this......there were a good few. And the contents of many of them would have had him hung from the gallows in an instant if the Tans had found out what he was up to."

Lucy had briefly glanced over many of the journals and understood the power of their contents. Many were stories of the harrowing atrocities committed by the auxiliary Tans on Irish civilians. He named offenders, gave detailed descriptions of what occurred; he even had a few photos which tainted even further the already murderous reputation of the Tans. What was difficult to understand in all this though was the fact that nothing of her grandmother or Babby was found. Once again she began having doubts about the existence of these records of what happened to Babby. "Tell me Father, do you know if he wrote a journal that could have been lost, or simply wasn't known about?"

The old priest thought about this and said "Father Dempsey was something of a dark horse. Yes he was always writing, but you could never tell what he was up to, really; and naturally so. Times were very difficult back then, and nobody felt safe. He would take off for weeks at time traveling around the county, or even the province of Munster recording the experiences of the local people. He was like a beacon of hope for many because he never gave up writing; and despite being arrested twice by the Tans, his journals were never discovered. Some say the Tans feared a fierce retaliation from the Irish if something happened to him, so he was mostly left alone. They shook him up a few times believing he was directly involved with the resistance, but never got anything out of him."

"Did he write anything else during his life besides the journals?"

"Not that I know of" the priest replied. "The same as I wouldn't know if he wrote a journal that he decided not to keep. That said, he wasn't the type of man who thought light of his work; quite the contrary even! He valued those journals immensely and kept them all his life. He arranged to have them removed from his home and donated to the local library, only in the event of his death. He also took great pride in the fact that historians would consult him about events of certain dates. His attention to detail was astounding."

"So he would have had a system of numeration sequences which would indicate which journal pertained to a particular period" Kevin suggested, much to Lucy and the priest's surprise as he had remained silent since defending his kiss with Lucy.

"I suppose so" the priest answered. "I can't imagine how he could keep track of so much information without using some sort of structure."

"Right then" Lucy said standing up "I suppose we'll have to go back to the library and try and to find out what if any system was used."

As they were about to leave Lucy stopped and turned to the priest "you know Father, your home is really beautiful". Kevin who was standing behind the couch and out of the priest's sight, signaled to Lucy not to ask about that, but the look she gave him told him that would not happen.

"Thank you" he answered breathlessly as he reached out for his walker. "I came here as a young curate, fresh out of Maynooth seminary; when I first set eyes on the place, I thought it was far too grand for any servant of God and I didn't want to stay here. However, when I saw how Father Dempsey used every inch of this place, I wasn't long changing my mind and no longer had trouble settling in."

"How was the place used?" Lucy asked, her curiosity piqued.

"We had the poor and homeless in some rooms, the sick and dying in others. For a long period of time there was never a night when the rooms were not full. Except this room here" the priest said while momentarily waving a shaky hand in the air "this was reserved for our own beds and place of work".

Lucy was surprised to hear this "the place was so full that three of you lived and worked in this room!!"

The priest chuckled to himself and said "amazing how just two generations later "adequate space" has taken on a whole different meaning". He looked at Lucy and Kevin and said "even with three priests in this room, we had ten times the space most families had at the time in their entire house. Our comfort was never an issue."

It was Kevin who spoke next "How long was Father Dempsey living in this house when you arrived here?"

"Not long at all".

"And who owned it before the clergy acquired it?" Kevin continued.

The priest thought about this for a moment and said "well it had a few owners, as far as I remember. But when the troubles came in the form of the Black and Tans, there were several claims of ownership; it was apparently, very messy. Anyway, I believe it was donated to the church when the last owner died".

The old man suddenly seemed fatigued "well, if you don't mind now. I think I will have my usual little walk around the garden."

Lucy and Kevin thanked the priest for his help, but told him they might need to talk with him again soon. He laughed and told them he wasn't going anywhere because he couldn't remember where he was supposed to be; and with that they left the mansion on Main Street.

Chapter 8. Hidden Words

The librarian, Maeve glanced briefly at Lucy, who had returned to view the old journals and wondered why something that nobody had given a second thought to for years, now elicited so much interest. Most clients came in here looking for fictional best sellers, documentary style fact books on exotic places, or to participate at the kiddies reading corner. Fifty year old musty diaries, although having a high historic value, scored nil for popular interest, so what was the red-haired woman hoping to find? As she placed the photocopied journals on the table in the same secluded corner of the library as last time, the young woman asked "have you read any of these?"

The librarian turned and said "no actually....I'm sorry to say, I haven't. I've tried to, but my interests lie.....well, are stuck really, in English literature of the Austen sisters' type; I just cannot get into something like those journals".

Their conversation ended at that, as a tall handsome man entered the otherwise empty library and immediately joined the woman sitting at the table. He nodded a brief hello to Maeve, who smiled shyly and said she would leave them to get on with their reading.

He waited until the librarian was out of ear shot then spoke. "It's arranged" Kevin said in a low voice, as he took off his coat and sat opposite Lucy. "I said we'd pick the car up in about two hours just outside the village at the old crossroad."

"I don't know this area at all. Where is it exactly?"

"There is a fork in the road at the end of the village. Keep left and it's about a forty minute walk past the last house. It's hardly ever used since the main road now accesses the bypass."

"If it's so desolate, do you think it will be safe?" she whispered, as she handed him a blank writing pad and a pen.

"Well, I chose that spot because it's out of the way. The goal here is to be inconspicuous."

"Definitely!" she agreed in a low whisper. She checked inside her green corduroy shoulder bag, removed an ordinance survey map of County Clare, and opened it out on the table.

He looked at the pile of journals and sighed "right, where do we start? Or what are we looking for exactly?"

"Like I said back at the priest's house, we're trying to find out what was Father Dempsey's way of classifying these journals. If we can find that, maybe we can see if there is one missing and then...." The enthusiasm in her voice suddenly began to wane, as she realized something "....then....then I just don't know. I have no idea if there is another, where it could be, or who would even know about its existence." She placed her head in her hands and groaned "oh God what was I thinking? This is a complete waste of time; it's not going to lead us anywhere." Seeing her discouragement, Kevin decided to be more positive about this than he really felt. Because the truth be told, this was the equivalent to looking for a needle in the proverbial haystack. Worse still, there might not even be a needle at all! "Okay, listen" he said "let's go over what we have so far."

Keeping her head in her hands she said "we just did that over lunch down at the pub. Repeating ourselves will not help!"

"We hadn't completely finished going over everything" he reminded her "the lengthy conversation you had with the fella you met on the way back from the toilet prevented that."

"Well, he was a very polite tourist who was needing information on the local scene" she said pulling her hair back off her face. "But you're right, we didn't finish it. So, we'll start from the beginning, again".

"The anonymous note you received after your grandmother's death" Kevin said indicating at the pad, as the first point. "The second is the note found on the fridge door. And let's also include that as a first sign of infraction and intent." He hesitated on the third point, but Lucy said it for him "my best friend's murdered body is found on my doorstep".

"Yes" he said solemnly as he wrote down the words Sue is murdered. There was a brief silence between them as the memories of that morning flashed before them. "The fourth point" he said going on "the attack on you at the Bed & Breakfast".

"That's it in a happy nutshell" she said sarcastically. "But it doesn't really cover the connections between Hannah's death and Sue's murder."

"I know" he said pensively, "but we're still trying to make sense of this strange affair. I mean that maniac, whoever he is, believes killing you will resolve something for him; that's motive. He has shown determination in wanting to kill you, therefore whatever it is he needs resolved might have a deadline, whether real or imagined, for him."

"A deadline' Lucy said with a worried expression.

"Well, I mean...not a deadline per se" he said lightly. "I just meant...."

"It's okay Kevin" she said "you don't need to explain".

Making her more scared than what she was moments earlier had not been his intention. "Look, don't worry" he said with more conviction than he felt "we'll beat him to it. Okay?"

Lucy said nothing, but took a journal off the pile and started the arduous task of trying to find how the priest organized the historical records. She could not know that Kevin was kicking himself for putting his foot in it.

An hour later the search had turned up nothing more than sentiments of frustration and futility. The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall only served as a reminder to Lucy that the killer's deadline Kevin had mentioned earlier was approaching with every passing second. The continuous movement of the clock hands meant he was preparing her death, thinking about it, wanting it; needing it even. In her mind, images of Sue's slashed throat changed to those of her own. She saw herself lying on the steps of Ridgewood Crescent, her throat slashed in the silence of the night, her killer relieved with his accomplishment, the police baffled once again. She relived the fear and helplessness she felt in the bathroom of the bed and breakfast when he tried to grab her. If he felt bold enough to attack her in a place full of people did that denote his escalating desperation? "To hell with this" Lucy said suddenly as she tossed her pen on to the table, walked straight past Kevin and headed straight over to the librarian.

"I need to have the original journals, not these copies" she said authoritatively.

"I'm very sorry" the librarian said softly "I'm not allowed to do that, but I can help you with any of the photocopied journals if you like".

Lucy closed her eyes momentarily as she tried to quell the panic she felt inside "no! Look......you don't understand; the photocopies aren't helping me. I really need to look at the originals; I'll be extra careful, please".

The librarian was surprised by the tone in the woman's voice; it sounded not only hurried, but desperate. "I'm sorry" she repeated just as softly," but I can only remove the journals from the glass cases in the event of a fire".

"In the event of a fire?" Lucy repeated confused.

"Yes. I'm terribly sorry, but I'm authorized to open them, only in the event of a fire."

In the event of a fire!" Lucy exclaimed loudly and with incredulity.

The librarian was clearly uncomfortable with this outburst and tried to speak, but Lucy wouldn't let her get a word in edgeways, not even when Kevin rushed over and told her to take it easy.

"Listen" Lucy said angrily as Kevin tried to apologize to the librarian "I don't know who made up that bullshit rule, but I can tell you, that in the event of an actual fire you would be running out of here like the hounds of hell, not trying to unlock a series of glass cases filled with fifty year old musty diaries!!!!! Now unlock the blasted cases and let me look at those diaries!!!!" The librarian's chin trembled for a second before she burst into tears.

"Lucy! Get back to the table right now" Kevin commanded.

"What!!!" Lucy exclaimed. "She's probably just upset....PMS or something." She didn't get to say anymore, Kevin took her by the arm and brought her back to the table. "Sit down there" he said angrily directing Lucy to the chair "and if you get up, I'll have you barred from County Clare, permanently".

Kevin returned to the sobbing librarian and offered her a Kleenex from the box on the counter. She took it gratefully and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose.

"I want to apologize for my friend there" he said taking out his police identification and showing it to her. "She was wrong to shout at you like that, this is not your fault. I mean it's not hers either, but she's just really, really scared right now".

"What's not her fault?" the impressionable woman asked.

"I'm sorry" Kevin said genuinely "I can't go into that because it's an unsolved case right now. But I do know that she is right about needing to see the originals."

The woman's cheeks blushed brightly and she whispered that she could lose her job if she did that.

"I tell you what" Kevin said trying to make this a win-win situation "instead of going to all the trouble of getting a warrant to have the journals confiscated as part of our investigation, why don't I just open the cases, not take them out, but just look through them carefully. I'll wear gloves so as not to harm them."

The woman thought about this for a moment and said "I'm going on my lunch break now; I'm usually gone about an hour, but I have a few errands to run today, so I will be back a little after that."

"Grand all together" Kevin said "that will be long enough". She placed a key on the desk in front of her. "What you'll need is here. Drop the key in the returns slot outside when you're finished."

Kevin thanked her again and watched her take her handbag and dim the lights on her way out. "Please don't be here when I get back" she asked just before closing the door behind her.

Once the door was locked, he quickly picked up the key and went to the glass cases. "You had better get over here" he called to Lucy "we don't have too much time". He pulled a small plastic sandwich type bag from the back pocket of his jeans and removed two pairs of thin plastic gloves. As Lucy approached him sullenly, he handed her a pair before donning his own.

"Well this is what you wanted Luce" he said handing her the key "seek and you shall find".

"I'm sorry about my outburst" she said as way of an apology.

"Forget it Attila" he said lightly, while feeling the excitement of imminent discovery; "it's passed now. This" he said pointing to the case of journals "is what we have to focus on".

She took the key, inserted it into the lock and heard a gentle click. Her heart began to beat quickly with the anticipation of finding something they had not seen in the photocopies. She carefully lifted open the first glass case and looked down at the twelve, dark brown leather bound journals standing side by side on a long slanted glass stand. Taking out the first in line on her side, she opened the cover and found a blank page; she turned it over and found another blank page, then another. Puzzled, she skipped ahead and found more of the same, nothing but blank pages.

Kevin, who had seen the same thing, took another journal and flipped through the pages with less reverence than he had intended using. All those pages were blank too. After checking every one of the journals the baffled pair stared at each other in disbelief. "What the hell's going on?" he asked Lucy.

"I haven't the foggiest." she replied

*

He placed the money on the counter and called for another pint – the last one for a while. The events of the last few hours were playing over and over in his mind fueling the anger carousing through his body. He had been duped; the unmarked car had remained outside the station in place for a long time and he believed the cop and Courtney were still inside. It was only when another member of the boys in blue drove the car into a lot behind the station that he realized they were no longer there; they had escaped from right under his nose.

This unexpected evasion on their part caused a turn in his plan because he had not intended on losing Courtney at this critical point in time. She was probably still with the cop, but their exact whereabouts eluded him, for now. No doubt she would be looking for the answers to what he had already discovered, and possessed; things that she could not even imagine. Her remaining lifespan could be counted in days, hours even because once he captured and killed her, his problems would finally end.

The thick dark stout was placed before him on a carton coaster and with trembling hands he downed it rapidly, burping loudly afterwards. With an unsteady gait, he left the pub and returned to his car, oblivious to the disapproving glances of the other patrons he left behind.

After fumbling for his keys he managed to open the car door and sit behind the wheel. Breathless, he gripped the steering wheel – both hands in the 12 o' clock position - and leaned his head on his hands waiting for the dizziness to pass. A couple of times the spinning was so strong his head slid off to the side, but he managed to get through these bouts, even if they were becoming more intense. He had just sat up straight when a sudden searing pain behind his eye made him growl with gritted teeth. Reaching awkwardly over to the glove compartment, he removed one bottle in a myriad of prescription medication and popped an unknown quantity into his mouth and waited.

When all pain from body and mind had completely dissipated he smiled to himself, content in the knowledge that soon he would rectify the wrongs of the past. Reaching down to his ankles, he fumbled with the leg of his trousers and removed the knife from the leather holder strapped to his calf. He rubbed his thumb near the blade's extremely sharp steel edge and smiled at its beauty. Handmade Japanese steel with an ebony handle, purchased decades earlier, it had cost him a small fortune even back then. He had never imagined using it to take a life, but it had sliced into the throat of that young woman with such ease, gliding across her neck, effortlessly opening flesh and spilling life onto the ground. Mistaken identity –an unfortunate mistake – one he would rectify when he opened Courtney's throat.

Replacing the weapon into the holder, he fished the silver canteen from his inside pocket knocking back lengthy gulps of whiskey. He burped loudly, lit up a cigarette then exited the car and staggered slightly as he headed towards a pay phone in the empty market square. Fumbling to get the prepaid card out of his pocket, he swore as he dropped his cigarette on the ground. After managing to get the card into the slot he picked up his cigarette placed it in his mouth and dialed the number.

"Hallo?" came the voice on the other end.

"How's he doing?" The words came out slightly slurred.

"Well if you came back and saw him, you'd know".

"Not today" he said taking a long deep breath. "Soon". He didn't wait to hear anything else, but hung up and swore as he staggered again and banged against the phone booth door.

He walked past the police station to check if the car was still in the lot and stopped dead in his tracks, when he saw it was gone. The time on his watch read four p.m. That meant that the car couldn't have been gone longer than forty minutes, or an hour max.

He stumbled back to the phone booth, taking both sides of the sidewalk in his harried pace. Several attempts later he managed to place his card in the pay slot, dial the number and wait.

"Kilrush Police" came the reply "can I help you"?

With great effort he managed to speak in what he thought was a most sober, not slurred voice. Unknown to him, he came across as having a pronounced speech impediment.

"Yesh, I just shaw a blach Ford Malibu drive off de road about three miles west of here". The officer called out to one of his colleagues

"Hey didn't Mike just drive off with a Black Malibu?" He heard an affirmative response in the back ground confirming Mike was off to meet Kevin then immediately hung up, hurried back to his car, placed the keys in the ignition and waited. When he spotted the police car speed away from the station he took off, following at a careful distance and managing, somewhat miraculously, to drive relatively straight. He laughed aloud at the thoughts of the police leading him directly to the cop and Lucy Courtney.

*

"It looks like the journals are either a great big scam because they never really existed, or maybe the writing faded with time."

"Impossible" Kevin declared. "Ink wouldn't fade completely that quickly. I mean the photocopies exist, but they're photocopies of what?"

"No idea" Lucy said in bewilderment.

Kevin checked his watch and suddenly exclaimed "c'mon, it's time we got going. I told Mike we wouldn't be late to pick up the car."

Just then the library door opened and the librarian stood in the doorway. Kevin could see from her expression that she was very disappointed to see them still there. He turned quickly to Lucy and said "forget about both of us going. Find out from her what's going on with the journals. I'll go and meet Mike and I'll pick you up afterwards; Don't under any circumstances leave the library until you see the car parked out front, Okay?"

"Yes, all right" she answered "but be careful".

"No worries" he said, then turned and left the room.

The librarian walked directly over to Lucy and coldly asked for the key to the glass cases.

Lucy held up the key, but didn't hand it over straight away. She looked warily at the librarian and asked "so how long has this scam been going on here?"

"I don't understand" the woman replied puzzled "what scam?"

Lucy thought this woman was good at lying "these journals in their glass cases - that scam" she said with raised eyebrows.

"There is no scam. There never was a scam" the librarian said nervously "I really wish you would leave now. And not come back again....ever."

"Tell you what" Lucy said with confidence "you tell me whose work is photocopied over there? Who put these fakes in glass cases? And if a Father Dempsey really ever did write anything in his life? You do that, then I'll go!"

The librarian stared at Lucy for a moment then smiled before she spoke "you have no idea. Do you?"

Lucy frowned "What? No idea about what?" she asked impatiently.

"About Father Dempsey" came the reply.

"You mean the scam, or is there an actual person?"

"I will show you something, and when you have seen it, you will leave and never come back here. Agreed?"

Lucy mulled over it for a second and agreed.

"Invisible ink" the librarian stated matter-of-factly. "His journals were written entirely of invisible ink. That is why each time he was arrested and interrogated by the Tans, they never found anything incriminating on him. It infuriated them because they knew he was recording the events of that period, but they never found out where he kept those records."

"But wasn't invisible ink something invented to the Second World War?"

"The Germans became known for their use of it for espionage purposes, but I believe these journals are truly the first form of secret communication to be used for documentation purposes during political turmoil."

"How would a priest from a tiny village in Ireland find out about Invisible Ink?" Lucy asked baffled.

"Well" the librarian smiled content to pass on the knowledge "apparently he went to Trinity College, before studying at Maynooth; While at Trinity, he met a young German man who was studying chemistry. That man later returned to Germany and became a renowned chemist; we believe it is him who invented the ink many years before it actually came to be used. Father Dempsey was in Germany a couple of months just after the Tans invaded. We can imagine what happened there."

The librarian went back to the counter, picked up an object off the desk returning moments later with a strange looking lamp. She set it up on one of the tables and retrieved one of the original journals.

"Hold this" she said and opened the very first page of a journal and held it out. The librarian turned on the lamp and a lilac colored light glowed brightly. In an instant black handwritten cursive script appeared on the page. Lucy gazed in amazement at the effect.

"It's brilliant!" She exclaimed. "The man was a genius".

"Here" the librarian said feeling less threatened "read it and enjoy. I hope it will help you with whatever you're looking for."

Lucy thanked her and the librarian smiled before walking away and leaving her to get on with the research.

Looking down at the beautiful script, Lucy read the first page.

13-121-300

Noel Dempsey c.p.p.

There were serial numbers on the page. He had recorded these events in chronological order and numbered them accordingly. She would have to see another journal to see what the next sequential number was. Without delay she took another journal, opened the first page and placed it underneath the lamp, again within seconds the scripted black styled writing appeared

12-120-299

Noel Dempsey c.p.p.

Lucy grabbed a pad and pen and wrote down the serial numbers of both journals. Although, she was supposed to have left after seeing the writing on the documents, the librarian didn't seem to be hunting her out, so Lucy went through the first page of every diary there and wrote down all pertinent pieces of information. It took quite a while, but by the time she was finished, she felt glad with the information accumulated. One was missing!

After carefully replacing all the journals, and gathering up her things, she returned the key and lamp to the librarian, and apologized for being angry earlier. It was only when she was outside that she realized that Kevin was gone a very long time. She put on her coat and went down the path to the edge of the road but saw no sign of the car.

The pitch black sky and creeping damp somehow made the night appear menacing. Shivering slightly, she crossed her arms to try and stay warm as her coat offered little protection against the cold. She checked her watch and became alarmed; it was after eight at night. Something must have happened to Kevin; what's more, if he did need help, he was in a desolate place with little or no passers-by who could even see him. Afraid for his safety, she decided to walk out to the crossroad and see if she could find him.

Almost an hour later, Lucy approached at the crossroads with teeth chattering loudly from lack of warmth. The walk along the lonely rural road had been unnerving because there were no street lamps, and also because not one car or person crossed her path during the entire time.

Arriving at the intersection her heart sank at the sight of Kevin's car. This could not be good if he was still out here. Something must have happened that prevented him from picking her up. She ran up to the car and went to pull the handle on the driver side door, but it was locked. She peered inside and gasped at the sight of Kevin asleep in the passenger seat.

"Kevin!!" she shouted in at him while banging on the window "Kevin, Kevin wake up!" There was no response and no way in.

Scurrying to the grassy edge of the road, she searched frantically until the necessary tool was planted firmly in her fist, and then hurrying to around to the back seat on the driver's side she plowed a rock through the glass shattering it in a million pieces. After pushing away the remaining debris and pulling up the protruding switch, all locks were deactivated permitting her to enter. With the interior illuminated by the automatic light, she gasped at the sight of his swollen eyes, battered and bloodied face. Bolting further into the car she was immediately overwhelmed by a strong stench of blood, but couldn't locate where it was coming from. Touching his neck to feel for a pulse, panic hit her - there was barely any heartbeat. She turned his face slightly and what she saw made her shake with fear. A small cut to the jugular vein was expulsing tiny regular spurts of blood from his neck; following the trail of deep red on his clothes, she looked down at his feet and saw the substantial amount of loss that had already occurred.

She quickly grabbed the bottom of her blouse, tore it and placed it hard against the cut.

"Kevin, c'mon" she said gently tapping his face "you've got to wake up!" Getting no response, she kept her hand on the wound, turned the key in the ignition and started the engine, awkwardly managing to put the car in gear before speeding off to Ennis hospital.

"Henry Street, Gardaí" said the deep baritone voice.

"I need to speak with Kevin Hartnett's superior" Lucy said in a voice that trembled slightly under the strain to sound calm.

"Who's calling please?" the voice asked curtly. "And what's this about?"

"Can you please put me through to Kevin Hartnett superior; it's an emergency.

"Not until you tell me exactly what's going on" came the terse reply.

Lucy was in no mood for explanations, or protocol, she was too scared to care who she upset right now. Her voice trembled even more, as her ability to stay calm seeped away. "Look, this is a real emergency, so just get me his supervising officer on the phone now, because you're fucking up big time by stalling."

"Just give me your number and I'll get his supervisor to call you back."

"He can call me back at the Ennis Hospital Emergency room". She recited the number the nurse had given her.

"And whom are you?" he sighed.

"Lucy Courtney" she said and hung up.

With a trembling hand, she dialed a second number that she found in the phone book, and waited as it rang. A sleepy voice answered on the ninth ring

"Hullo?"

"Mick, this is Lucy Courtney. I'm a friend of Kevin's" she swallowed hard in an effort not to burst into tears "am...I stayed above your pub not so long ago."

"Oh yeah. Hi Lucy, I remember you." After a moment he said "is Kevin all right?"

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she fought hard not to lose her resolve "Am...no. He's not doing too well. I need you to call his family and tell them that he's going to be air lifted to the Black Rock hospital in Dublin any minute now."

"Air-lifted!" Mick said incredulously "what's happened to him?"

"They just need to stabilize him first, but he's in critical condition, so please call his family immediately. I've got to go now. Look, I'm really sorry okay". Then she hung up and went to return to the chaos of emergency medical intervention that was being done on Kevin's body, but the nurse at the desk who had just helped her, called her back just as she was approaching his room. There was a Sergeant Molloy from Limerick on the line. Lucy went back to the desk and picked up the phone

"Hello Sergeant Molloy?" she said almost as a whisper.

"Yes. Lucy?" he asked in a very calm and friendly manner.

"Yes" she barely managed to say as her voice cracked under the strain of trying not to sob.

"Okay Lucy, I know this is hard on you, but you're going to have to explain to me what happened to Kevin tonight. Now I've just spoken to the nurse at the desk there and she has given me a few details about his condition, so we'll let them get on with what they do best, and pray to God he'll pull through. In the meantime, we need to do what we do best, and that's get to the bottom of this crime and find the culprit."

"Okay" Lucy said as she wiped her eyes. His calm, rational attitude was a relief from her chaotic thoughts.

"Now, I'll be there in about thirty minutes. In the meantime, I'll be sending an officer from the station in Ennis to stay with you. It's important that you wait where you are until he gets there. Do not leave the hospital. Okay?"

"Yes, I understand" she replied.

"That's grand Lucy, just don't move" he repeated before hanging up. Putting down the phone, she noticed a security guard talking to a nurse who was pointing in her direction. The broad uniformed man began to walk towards her; Lucy suddenly began to see things differently. Sergeant Molloy, the Ennis police officer on his way, and now the security guard, were not rushing to protect her or Kevin. They were coming for her. They considered her a suspect again. In a moment of sheer panic and fatigue, Lucy turned in the opposite direction and ran as fast as she could. The security officer called out and started to chase her, but she was already out into the cold night air and sprinting into the dark night.

She couldn't remember exactly which direction she took, or for how long she ran, but it was long enough for her body to ache all over. The road was not a main thoroughfare because few cars passed her, and those that did pass, did so quickly as to not notice of a woman running on the road. The perspiration from her prolonged physical effort was profuse; the white cotton blouse had become soaked and the fluids had seeped through her coat and down to the top of her trousers; her hair was soaked and her breathing short. Although her mind wanted to keep running, her body was out of steam. Still, she pushed herself to pass the last farmhouse, agreeing to stop after that. The fence bordering the farm seemed endless, but fear made her keep running on past the wooden border.

When her legs could no longer continue, she bent over to catch her breath, gathered the spittle that had formed in her mouth and spat awkwardly onto the road. A van suddenly whizzed past at that very moment, skidded to a halt and reversed up beside her before she had a chance to hide.

"Spitting like a man, are ya?" came a voice Lucy recognized and one that made her freeze with fear.

She turned to see two hollow tubes of a rifle jutting out from the window "Hello Ham" she said in gasping breaths. "What brings you out here?

"Ah, we heard you had run off, so we knew we'd find you on one of these roads!"

"There's a search party out for me, is there" she said feeling her sweat turning cold under her blouse; she'd be shivering shortly if she didn't get heat.

"Well" Ham said solemnly "we're the only civilian ones, if that's what you mean". Just at that moment Dan and Eamon stuck their heads out beside Ham's and said "Ya had better get in here with us, Lucy. Your run is over now".

The back doors burst open, Dan and Eamon stood armed with their rifles on the edge of the van's rear, their free hands extended to haul Lucy in."

Running was futile, so she climbed inside to whatever fate lay before her. Their vehicle tore off at such speed around the bend in the road, the tires squealed making her lose her balance and she fell onto a makeshift bench that the boys had installed as extra seating.

In the presence of Kevin's three brothers, Lucy felt ill at ease in the stoic silence; they obviously knew she had been with Kevin, and must think the same as the sergeant, that she was somehow to blame for that. Feeling that honesty was the best policy, Lucy decided to come out and tell them everything she knew, but not here, somewhere else.

The van wasn't on the road for very long before it turned off onto a beaten track wobbling along until it entered a building of sorts and the engine was turned off.

The boys wasted no time in exiting the van, and taking Lucy with them. When she stepped into the dull light, she realized they had parked inside an empty, long abandoned barn, but the lingering smell of hay was still strong. A rifle toting Ham lead the way, Lucy was directed to follow him; Dan and Eamon trailed behind.

From the barn, they entered the back room of a small, dilapidated, unfurnished cottage. It looked like it too had been abandoned for many years, and it smelled as if the earth beneath the structure was reclaiming the place. Lucy really wanted to ask how come they knew about this place, but she figured being silent would be best for the moment. They filed into a larger room that was probably once a kitchen; a few cracked beige ceramic tiles still clung to parts of the wall defying the damp to loosen them. A gas canister, often the type campers would use lay in the center of the floor; its use was quickly revealed when she spotted a blackened old tea pot, a few metal mugs and a box of tea bags lying beside it. Eamon took four folded chairs that had been lying against the wall and opened them out then did the same with the folded plastic table and set up a seating area for each person. Dan lit the canister and filled the teapot with water taken from a small well in the back garden, while Ham cared meticulously for the weapons by rolling out a thick canvas beige cloth on the ground and carefully placing each of their rifles on it.

"Nice place you have here lads" Lucy said smiling weakly, but her humour elicited no response. Given her last encounter with the Hartnett brothers, Lucy became concerned as to what lay in store for her.

When the tea was made, Ham pulled a box of Jaffa cakes from his jacket pocket and placed them at the center of table. To her great surprise, Dan passed her a cup of tea and she took it with gratitude. If she was to undergo some form of interrogation at the hands of the Hartnett brothers, at least they were forming a pretty solid basis of trust. Despite everything that had happened, she felt ravenous and had to stop herself from grabbing the entire box of biscuits; instead she took one gently, but lost face by stuffing it whole into her mouth. If the boys found this strange, they didn't say so, but instead offered her what remained.

When the tea was drunk, and the biscuits gone, Ham turned to Lucy and said "feeling a little better?"

She wasn't sure how to respond, but given the mess she was in, lying of any kind wouldn't help her. "I am. Thank you".

"Good" Ham said rubbing his chin "you were in a mess when we found you".

She didn't add anything to this; it was their opinion, and anyway she was certain she looked like hell, she certainly smelled that way. But those things could be easily remedied, not like the injuries Kevin had sustained.

"Did Kevin get air-lifted to Dublin?" She asked softly.

The brothers all looked at each other and nodded simultaneously "the chopper landed for pick up just as we got to the hospital. We let Ma and Da go in to see him for a minute before Kevin was wheeled over to the landing pad. We're here with you because we need you to fill in the blanks for us so we can sort out whoever did this to him. Security, police and half the province have an A.P.B. out on you. They believe you're a person of interest in the attack."

Lucy nodded at this "I'm not surprised to hear that; everything about this points to me as the guilty party, but I swear to you, I would never, ever have harmed Kevin in any way".

Again the three men looked at each other, but it was Dan who spoke this time "fuck sake Lucy, we know it's not you. What do you think we are, morons?"

The relief at hearing this made her already fragile emotional state resurface; she dug into her corduroy shoulder bag, retrieved two tissues and wiped away the tears. Moments later when she had recollected herself, she began to recount the whole story from the very beginning, right up to finding Kevin in the car. During that whole time the brothers had not asked any questions, or interrupted in any way, instead they listened intently to everything she said, and afterwards everyone was silent for a couple of minutes.

Lucy checked her watch, it was 2 a.m. Without further ado she took out the map of Clare then began to sort through the notes she took at the library; her goal was to find, as soon as possible, a pattern that would shed light on the priest's missing journal. As she laid out the papers, Eamon and Dan got up and left saying they would go to a phone booth nearby, they had a few calls to make and also they wanted to see if there was any news on Kevin's condition. Ham said he'd stay put.

Lucy worked throughout the remainder of the night trying desperately to find the exact number of journals the priest wrote. By the time the sun was rising, she was no nearer to finding the answer. The three brothers tried to help, but their suggestions turned up nothing either. The news on Kevin's condition was described as gravely critical; apart from the blood loss, he had received a blow to the head which had induced a coma, there was also evidence of a clot in the brain.....the prognosis was not good. The brother's said they would be driving up to the hospital in Dublin seen as things weren't going too well. Lucy wanted to go also, but felt it was not her place; this was a time for his family only.

By eight a.m. Lucy was exhausted, her eyes stung, and her neck ached. But these discomforts were nothing compared to what Kevin was going through and felt she had no right to complain. She stepped away from the map and notes for the first time since sitting down hours earlier. Walking away helped her not to throw the whole pile of papers on the floor with discouragement.

The Hartnett trio had become more argumentative than usual and when tempers became frayed, it was Eamon who stormed out saying it would take more than Jaffa cakes to replenish them this time. Ham decided to go along and asked Lucy what she would like for breakfast. "A coffee with anything would be wonderful" she answered yawning. Ham seemed pleased that she wanted to eat and trotted out after his brother.

Just standing a distance from the papers made her feel like she was wasting time; they absorbed every ounce of energy, but she could not imagine being able to do anything else right now other than trying to resolve this.

Sitting down once more, she arranged the papers into a more orderly assortment then started back at square one; the journal serial numbers.

By the time the boys came back, Lucy was still staring at exactly the same page. Their noisy entrance was a welcome relief to the repetitive questions going around in her mind. Two big Styrofoam cups of coffee were placed in front of her, in addition to a breakfast of the fast-food type. Normally, this wouldn't have been something she would eat of her own choosing, but given the circumstances, she was grateful for any nourishment. As for the coffee, she hadn't even taken a sip, but she knew it was heavenly.

"Any news on Kevin?" she asked through sips of the hot, comforting beverage.

Dan, who had spoken to his mother, explained Kevin's current condition "overall, Ma says he's had a full blood transfusion, so that has brought a bit of colour back to his face." When he didn't elaborate, Lucy didn't probe. No doubt he was still unconscious and not out of danger. With the awful image of when she found him in the car, Lucy turned back to her papers and continued searching.

How long it had been on the table, she could not say having warranted no more than a passing glance at the time, but at a second glance it triggered a thought process that a couple of minutes later had the Hartnett brothers and Lucy running out to the van and heading to the nearest public telephone as fast as they could.

"I don't get it" Ham said as he reversed madly out of the barn. "What are we doing?"

Lucy who was hiding in the back, and flailing around with the speed they were traveling at talked loudly so as to be heard "the librarian who helped me yesterday. I need to check something"

When they got to the phone that was placed on a hard shoulder of a country road, Ham placed a phone card in the slot, and dialed the number. Once it began to ring, Lucy stepped out of the van and took the phone - the brothers forming a somewhat conspicuous barrier while she made the call.

"Kilrush library. Maeve speaking."

"Hello, I was there yesterday, reading Father Dempsey's journals. I'm sure you remember me..." Lucy said trying to sound light hearted, but dreading that the phone would be promptly dropped back on to the receiver.

"I remember you very well" Maeve answered snippily. "Will you be coming back again today?"

Lucy found this an odd question, but simply answered that she had not decided as yet.

"Then I'm sure you're calling because you need some more information. Am I right?"

"Yes" Lucy said, happy that the conversation was to the point. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but Father Dempsey arranged for the journals to be donated to the library after his death. Is that right?"

"That's correct".

"Is the amount of journals donated the same amount as you have on display?

"Yes"

"Would you have a record of who Father Dempsey's executor was, or who delivered the journals?"

"It will take me a little while to look that up. Can I call you back?" Maeve asked.

"Sorry, that's not possible." Lucy said "it's best if I just wait."

"It's going to take about ten minutes. Can you call me back?"

Lucy didn't like the idea of that, but agreed anyway and hung up. She explained to the brothers why she would have to wait around.

They all looked at each other and Ham immediately reinserted the phone card back into the slot.

"What's going on lads? Lucy asked "I don't understand".

"Call the librarian back right now" Ham ordered.

"But...she's searching...."

"Now!" Ham said "quickly".

"Why?" she asked "what's going on?"

Ham already had the receiver in his hand, so Lucy recited the number. He dialed it, waited and hung up: "It's engaged. She's on the phone now, not researching but calling the police."

"She's calling the police!" Lucy exclaimed.

Eamon's long sinewy arm stretched inside the van pulling three different newspapers from the passenger seat. He passed one to Dan, who opened it along with Eamon's two - Lucy's face was on the front page of every one.

Officer Viciously Attacked -Police seeking this suspect.

"Your librarian there" Ham gestured with his forefinger pointing to the page "is already nattering with the cops about your little call. You're a hunted woman, so it's either run and hide, or face the music."

Lucy gaped incredulously at the image, not believing that they suspected her for the attack on Kevin.

"I need only today to sort this out then I will go to the police of my own volition."

"Okay" Ham said "where to now?"

"Well, I'll have to forget about the library, so I need to go to a priest's house instead".

When the dour housekeeper opened the door, she gasped at the sight of Lucy and three men standing on the doorstep; she dashed to the phone on the table in the hallway and tried to dial, but Lucy had already barged in the door, and whipped the phone's plug from the socket.

"No time for that." She said very gravely "I need to speak with the priest – it's urgent".

"Too late for a damn confession now!" the woman spat.

Slapping the woman was an act Lucy momentarily contemplated doing, but decided that feelings of frustration were better than feelings of regret. However, she wasn't about to endure a hissing fit, so Lucy grabbed the woman's arm and led her to the same living room as the day before.

Seeing the couch where she and Kevin shared a kiss, Lucy muttered to herself "what a difference a day makes."

The three brothers escorted the protesting housekeeper to a chair in the corner of the room and remained beside her for intimidation purposes only.

The old priest, who was sitting in the same position on the same couch as last time, had not seemed disturbed by the intrusive visit.

"You're back, Lucy" he said calmly without turning to look at anybody in particular.

"Yes father" she replied "sorry I didn't call ahead, but things are a bit hectic."

"I understand; how can I help you child?" he asked gently.

"I need to know who Father Dempsey's executor was, and also who would have delivered the journals after his death?"

"Well that's quite a mouthful, that is" he said as he began the long effort of trying to raise himself from his sitting position.

Lucy rubbed her face and controlled the urge to lift him off the sofa and carry him to wherever he needed to go. Instead, she watched him wobble over to a large mahogany side board and fumble about inside. After a couple of minutes he returned with a book like object and went through the same routine of trying to get resettled on the couch. Lucy, who feared a police raid at any second, was filled with dread that she would never get the answer she needed.

He opened the book which resembled a small thick scrap book filled with photos and papers and all sorts of memories collected over a lifetime. Had time been on her side, she would have loved to look through every page with him and hear all the stories that went with each image.

"Now child" the priest said pointing to a photo that was at least 50 years old "do you see that man on the right?" Lucy peered in and saw a black and white photo of a young couple standing together on a bleak country road – a low stone wall beside them. It was not a picture of a loving couple, but rather like two people who just happened to find themselves standing next to each other. The man seemed very young; the woman, a little older, but from what Lucy could decipher, her features were serious, severe almost.

"That man there was Father Dempsey's best friend: they had complete and utter trust in each other and it was him who carried out his dying wish."

"Is he still alive today?" Lucy asked excitedly.

"Well, I hear he's not doing too well at the moment - a bit like us all really, but, he hasn't departed this world yet."

Trying to quell the excitement she felt, Lucy asked "What is his name, and does he live in the region?"

"Oh, he doesn't live too far from here at all. His name is Pa Doohan and you'll find him in the butchers here in Kilrush."

Lucy did a double take "Pa Doohan!!"

"That's right" he answered softly. "He has a little butcher shop over there in the square".

"Okay" Lucy said reflectively trying to take in what she just heard "and who's the lady beside him?"

The old priest paused for a long moment "everybody in county Clare knew who she was. Formidable woman, too - Hannah Moore."

"What!" Lucy exclaimed.

"Hannah Moore" he repeated. "Have you heard of her?"

"You could say that" she said squinting to get a better look.

"Well" said the priest "this slither of a woman was head of the Clare resistance during the Tan invasion!"

Chapter 9. Breaking and Entering

The Hartnett brothers had many questions to ask Lucy during the short drive to the town square.

"Do you think she'll keep her word?" Eamon asked the others.

"The priest said she'd better not breathe a word to anyone of what just happened, or he'd find himself another housekeeper." Dan explained.

"I'll find another job" Ham imitated how she had snapped in a condescending response.

Lucy who couldn't help laughing asked "what do you think he meant when he threatened to mention the incident in Dublin last year in his references."

"God only knows" Ham replied with a hearty laugh "maybe she got on stage with a Chippendale."

"Well" said Lucy "whatever it was, she certainly changed her tune."

Ham increased his speed as he drove expertly around the narrow winding roads "serves her right; the auld bat."

Then changing the subject Dan turned to Lucy and asked "so what triggered you to go and check the library and the priest's house?"

"The librarian and the priest had both mentioned the journals being delivered to the library. It didn't register then, but when you deliver something, especially of that value, there is usually a record of it, right?" The three brothers agreed. "There's usually a receipt of some sort" Eamon piped up.

"Yes! That's what I spotted on the table last night – a receipt for delivery of silo to Eamon's farm".

Dan laughed out loud at this "Ha! For once Eamon laying that silo was good for something".

"Feck-off!" Eamon quickly retorted "Just because Dad gave you two the best of what land was to be had, and I get the most infertile lot doesn't mean you can take the piss!"

"You two had just better shut-up" Ham warned his siblings. "Go on Lucy. Don't mind them immature eejits".

"Anyway" Lucy said slowly, unsure if Dan and Eamon would begin taunting Ham. When it looked like the brewing argument had been temporarily quenched she continued on. "That got me thinking that a receipt for the journals must have been given by the library; in other words, there had to be some sort of paper trail that would indicate who was involved. When I couldn't confirm those records with the librarian, I figured I could at least find out who saw to it that Father Dempsey's wishes were followed; that's why I went to the old priest.

"And this Pa Doohan fella, is someone you already know?" Ham asked.

"That's right. But I only met him at my grandmother's funeral; before that I had never heard of him."

"He must be fierce old now, if he was around during the Tan invasion" Ham continued.

"I'd say he's in his early nineties at least" Lucy replied.

"Well we had better not dawdle" Ham said speeding up even more; that priest says he isn't too well now, and if he kicks the bucket before we can talk to him, then we're back to square one."

"By the way," Ham asked "what's your grandmother's name?"

Lucy hesitated for a moment then said "Hannah Moore".

The three sat in silence for a few seconds before blowing a long simultaneous whistle that you get when people are most impressed.

*

The village square seemed deserted, all the shops were closed and hardly any cars were parked along the curbs. There were no market stalls; no colourful wares to be sold, no merchants proudly shouting that their goods were the best and cheapest to be had. It looked as if someone had placed a grey voile over its beauty making it appear dull and foreboding.

"One would think the townspeople knew we were coming" Ham chuckled as he looked around him. Eamon thought this was funny "Yep! Our reputation precedes us" he said giving an impish nod at Lucy.

"There'll be no Okay Coral here boys" she replied smiling "it's just a small village, with salt of the earth type people living in it. I even heard that all the shops still manage to keep the tradition of closing on Wednesdays, and it's been like that for centuries."

Dan, who had stayed in the van to cover up the rifles, stepped onto the street and locked the van doors. Spotting a public telephone, he announced to the others that he needed to call the hospital then dashed across the street.

"All right then" Lucy said to Ham and Eamon, "I'll look in on Pa and see how he's doing. If he's up to having a chat I'll meet you back here shortly. Okay?"

"Okay" Ham said.

Just as she made her way across the square, the Hartnett brothers called after her. Turning around, she saw Dan had joined them and immediately knew by their grave faces they had received bad news.

"We're going up to Dublin right away" Dan said gravely "Kev's had a turn for the worst".

Lucy wanted to know more, but thought better of asking any questions "I think I'd better come along too and see him" she said concerned.

"It's best you stay here" Ham said with a slightly raised palm. "Find out what you can from the old man, get a bed and breakfast in the vicinity and stay there until we get back. When we catch this fella, we'll be serving up our own kind of justice."

Lucy thought she should try and convince them to keep a cool head, but decided that the Hartnett brothers would not listen to reason at this point; she really couldn't blame them.

"As soon as I've a place for the night, I'll call you at the hospital. But please tell me the truth about his condition; don't just tell me he's comfortable. I don't like being spared the details."

"Will do" Ham said and his straight up way of doing things made Lucy feel like she wanted to hug all three of them and thank them all for their help. Before she could act on this impulse Dan had whisked her into a tight hold followed by Ham's cushioned embrace and finally Eamon's exoskeleton crush. But she couldn't do that because right now, showing a brave exterior was best. Instead, she held Ham's hands momentarily, thanked them all then walked away.

As the white van roared out of sight, she headed towards the butchers on the opposite side of the town square. The fenced Martyrs monument looked eerie in the day's dull light. This large stone, marble and copper work, erected in 1903 by a committee of Kilrush nationalists was to honour the memory of Allen Larkin O'Brien and his men who were tried and executed in Manchester, England on November 23rd 1867. Their crime was the gallant and daring rescue of two Fenian chiefs, Kelly and Deasy from a prison van bound for a Manchester prison. Very few men or women who entered that military facility remained prisoners for very long; executions came swiftly after information had been expertly and tortuously extracted.

Lucy paused and considered momentarily the pride that had gone into preserving the memorial. As with anything that is seen very often in life's daily routine, it can blend into the surroundings to a point where it becomes invisible, but not this one. Its copper tipped wrought iron fence glowed despite the lack of sunshine. The care it received served to continue honoring some brave men who died so many more could be free.

"Freedom fighters to us, terrorists to others" Lucy thought "just depends which side you're on" she muttered as she arrived at the butcher's shop.

The door was closed, the normally bustling shop seemed to simply stand still in a sort of semi-darkness; peering through the window with cupped hands to help her see better, she noticed a faint light coming from the kitchen area, but the place appeared to be empty. Pa probably wasn't there if he was feeling ill, perhaps he was in a hospital. She knocked firmly on the butcher's door and waited.

"It's closed" a woman's voice called out from somewhere. Lucy quickly looked around her trying to locate the voice, but couldn't see anybody. "Up here".

Lucy stepped back from the butcher's entrance and looked up at the woman leaning from a sky-light in the sloped roof. "It won't be open until tomorrow; Pa always closes on a Wednesday afternoon".

She was about to close the window when Lucy called out "no, wait! Please, I'm looking for Pa Doohan. Can you tell me where he is?"

"Anyone who knows Pa, knows he's always home on Wednesday afternoons".

"So he's there with you now?" Lucy asked patiently.

"He's not well at the moment, but I'll tell him you came by. What's your name?"

Lucy didn't want to give her name seen as it had been plastered across most of the newspapers in the country. "Just say Hannah's granddaughter is here. I only need to speak with him for a moment."

The woman disappeared from the window and Lucy wasn't sure if she was going to come back. She peered in through the window again and saw her approaching from the kitchen area and out through the opening in the counter. A moment later the door opened and Lucy was invited in.

"He's upstairs" she said "I'm almost done anyway, so I'll be leaving you two alone."

Lucy didn't know what this person's relationship to Pa was, but didn't get a chance to ask, it was answered for her. "I'm Kathy, the district nurse. Pa has refused to go to a hospital, so we're providing daily visits to help control the pain in his leg; it's a blocked vein, inoperable on a man his age."

"Why won't he go to a hospital for care?" Lucy asked.

"Well, like a lot of people of his generation, he sees hospitals in a very different way from you or I. Quite negatively actually"

Lucy wasn't too sure her view was very different from that of Pa Doohan's.

"You know" Kathy went on "most of the older folk don't like being away from their homes or families; most feel they would prefer to die in a familiar environment than in the confines of a hospital".

"So Pa is going to die?"

She frowned for a moment and looked at Lucy as if she had just asked the most ridiculous of questions. "Well we're all going to die deary" Kathy chuckled lightly.

Lucy felt miffed by the comment, and wondered if she perceived people as being stand-offish with her, or was it just her own fatigue making her feel impatient and intolerant of something that should normally amuse her. Maybe Kathy worked only in palliative care and dealing with death was the most natural aspect of her job. Unable to see or really trust her current state of mind, Lucy decided to remain polite and said "obviously we will all die someday Kathy; I suppose that goes without saying. But this isn't about generalizations, is it? This is about perception that goes beyond medical knowledge. It's about using one's common sense in evaluating the possible amount of time left for a ninety plus, 100 pound man with a blocked vein that will probably become gangrenous. Now, based on that information, can you tell me if Pa is dying?" So much for remaining polite!

It was Kathy's turn to feel miffed, her answer was a curt "Yes, he's got three days to a week max".

"I don't understand" Lucy said perplexed "I saw Pa a few weeks back and he seemed fine. I mean he had a pronounced limp, but that was all."

Kathy checked her watch then explained to Lucy what was happening to Pa. "He had a plastic vein put in his leg about two months ago; this was a temporary measure to get the blood circulating again and help control the pain associated with such a condition. Most people have to have an amputation, but at Pa's age, and with his Angina it was too risky. Anyway, as expected the plastic replacement only lasted so long, and then became dysfunctional. Pa now has no blood circulating in his leg which is actually killing the limb. Once that happens, gangrene sets in, the medication, or morphine doses are very high and death comes quickly."

She looked at Lucy and said "Pa's in terrible pain, and his blood pressure is through the roof. It's only a question of hours."

"Thank you". Lucy said sincerely, but Kathy just rolled her eyes and said "I'll show you to his room."

They went through to the kitchen then turned right and walked up a very narrow and creaky wooden staircase – a total of six steps. The bedroom was a large converted attic which was so sparsely furnished that it gave her the impression that this man, if not living in dire poverty, was either avaricious, or cared nothing for worldly possessions. An old, rickety looking kitchen chair stood lopsidedly in a corner and served as a wardrobe for the only clothes he possessed; one suit, two shirts, some underwear and socks. The single sized mattress would have been directly on the floor, save for a few wooden planks. The only light entering the room came from a small square window in the slanted roof where Kathy had peered out earlier.

Pa seemed to be sleeping, so Kathy said she would leave and call back again in the morning. "If his pain increases, I've left a number where I can be called".

"Where are his sons?" Lucy asked her as the nurse descended the steps.

The nurse sighed deeply, "They don't know he has deteriorated this much, and I know Pa didn't want them around anyway. Besides one of his sons has a daughter who is in the hospital in Dublin at the moment. I think they're scared for her, so they could both be there. Pa told them that's where their place is – not with him."

Lucy thanked her then returned to Pa's bedside and knelt on the hard wooden floor. She gently placed his arm inside the old grey blanket and covered his frail, boney shoulders. Looking around her, she noticed there were no family photographs on the walls; nothing to indicate that this man had a family; that he was a husband, a father, or even a grandfather.

About an hour later, the old man stirred for a few moments before waking up. When he opened his eyes, he appeared annoyed about something, but it passed with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He turned his head towards the light and saw Lucy beside him. A big wide smile broke out onto his face. "I knew you'd be back, Lucy Courtney" he said with a much weaker voice than the one she had heard on her last visit. "I knew I'd see ya again".

"Good to see you Pa" she said holding his hand between hers. "So you knew I'd come and see ya?" she said playfully.

"Never doubted it for a second" he said wincing with the pain as he turned on his side to face her. "It's a pity you didn't come last week; me leg was better than it is now."

"Sorry about that Pa, things were a bit hectic my way." When he said nothing more Lucy stood up to allow the blood to flow back into her lower legs. She had been in the same position for so long, they had become numb. "How about I make us a cup of tea?"

"That sounds great" he replied. "But if I'm asleep when you come back, wake me up; otherwise I'd spend the day sleeping. It annoys me something awful to be wasting the day like that, so it does"

Sitting up, with his back against the cold, plastered wall, Pa sipped his tea with a pronounced tremble. He refused the biscuits Lucy had brought up and waved away a pillow she offered to make him more comfortable. Lucy decided to come straight out and ask him all the questions that were going through her mind.

"Pa, I need you to tell me all about Hannah. You know the truth, and I desperately need to hear it."

"I've no wish to do that child" he said firmly, while closing his eyes as if to shield himself from any other questions she might ask. "Anyway" he said grumpily, "I told you to go see Babby Murphy; she could talk to you about that time. I can't."

"Pa, I am here because I have tried that and let me tell you that Babby Murphy does not have any more ease talking about the past than you. In fact, I might have caused some irreparable damage by trying to get her to dredge up her memories of that time. I know all of your pain, along with that of Babby's and Hannah's is connected with the Tans. Am I right?" she asked gently.

He opened his eyes and sighed defeated "The truth, Lucy, is something I've been running from all my life. It haunts me every single day; it is my cross. The reason why there's so much silence associated with the Tan invasion is because the terrible things they did; just scarred people for ever. Now that's saying a lot, for in all the savagery that Irish history has known nothing before or after compares with what the Tans did. I have strived for decades to correct so many wrongs done during that time, but a lifetime isn't long enough for that." When he turned away from her gaze she saw the moist streaks trickling down his cheek.

Lucy knew that she could not rush him into an explanation; memories were best brought up when the person felt they had control over the effect the experience had on them. For Pa, Lucy saw his memories as ongoing demons, because he never managed to bury them in the past.

A long pause passed in silence, Pa was now staring straight ahead, and began talking lowly as if he was alone.

"Besides Hannah, Bridie and myself, only one other person knew our story. I told him everything, it almost killed me, but I told him. He wrote down every single word and recorded the horror line by line. That was the only time I ever spoke of the past, and I will not ever mention it again".

"Was it Father Dempsey who recorded your story?"

"Yes" he said turning to look at her "he put it into one of his journals and kept it in a very safe place".

"What happened after he died? Lucy asked.

"We had been such good friends and there had always been a tremendous amount of trust between us, so it came as no surprise that he wanted me to be the executor of his will".

"And you complied with his every wish?" she probed. His hesitation in responding told her there had been problems.

"When Father Dempsey's health began to fail, he asked me to look over his will; I did so immediately, but when I noticed that he wanted to have all his journals sent to the library, I got angry.... He tried to explain to me that these were important historical documents that would someday serve as the hand of justice in proving how so many wrongs were committed against many innocent men women and children, but I did not agree at all; I wanted them to remain hidden and felt so strongly about this, I felt I could lose my best friend. I could not even bring myself to understand his wish; that one diary was a scourge, but I had to know I could keep it. In his final hours, Father Dempsey relented and gave me the one that contained my story in exchange for my word that all his remaining works would go to the library. I agreed and he passed on hours after that."

"So" Lucy said her mouth going dry with excitement "you have the missing one. It's been in your possession all the time?"

"Yes child; and I am going to hand it over to you now, so that you may keep it safely with you."

"Me?" Lucy asked in shock. "Why? I mean why not give it to one of your sons? I'm sure they would prefer to have it."

"Indeed 'n they wouldn't!" he exclaimed strongly. "They're good lads, but they have no sense of history, or national pride whatsoever. A document like that would have no value for them, nor would they even be able to comprehend what I did. And don't go asking me what I did because I won't say. You can read about it yourself, but only after I am gone." He tried to move his legs around to get out of bed, but the pain made it impossible.

"Will I call the nurse back for you?" she asked with concern as his pain seemed to increase greatly.

"Not at the moment" he gasped. "I can't get out of bed, so I'll need you to pull the bed out from the wall. Can you manage?"

"No problem" she said squatting down and holding the wooden planks firmly "Just let me know when you want me to pull".

"Right, when I say pull, you give it a good tug and mind you don't strain your back."

On his signal Lucy pulled the planks, which were really easy to move as the base of his make-shift bed was not just a few loose pieces of wood as she had thought, but was a lattice-type structure of securely nailed wooden planks. Plus Pa weighed almost nothing, so there was virtually no resistance.

Once the bed was away from the wall, Pa pointed to some floorboards beside the skirting board. "Lift up those four floor boards there" he asked Lucy. "If you've got good finger nails it will be easier to raise them".

She wasn't one to keep her nails long, but they weren't below the tips of her fingers either, so she had enough nail to lift the board. Wedging well in around the groove, she gave it a good tug and raised the first board; the other three came up with no trouble whatsoever.

"Now Lucy, he said breathlessly "take out the journal; it's yours"

She peered into the small dusty space beneath the floor and saw that it contained nothing. The space was empty. Putting in her hand, she patted around the area to make sure it wasn't just out of sight. If Pa thought something very precious was there, she didn't know how to explain that it was gone.

"Well come on child" he said "what's keeping you?"

"Pa" she said softly "there's absolutely nothing here."

"Kathy?" Lucy asked in a hurried voice.

"Shpeaking" she replied as if talking and eating at the same time.

"It's about Pa Doohan. You had better come over; he's in a lot of pain and appears very agitated."

"When did this start?" she asked. Lucy answered a number of questions about his state before the nurse confirmed she was on the way over. After hanging up the phone, she hurried back up to see Pa and found him extremely distressed. "Pa" she said firmly "you've got to tell me when you saw the journal last?"

He didn't seem to hear her; he was rocking back and forth and muttering to himself. He had kicked off his old grey blanket and for the first time Lucy saw the true state of his leg. It had turned a shade of deep purple and looked twice the size of his other leg. A tiny dark patch on his toe was emanating an unpleasant odour and Lucy could see that it had already become gangrenous.

She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her arms around Pa, much the same as she did for Hannah when she was in her last hours.

"It's okay Pa" she said comfortingly "don't you worry, I'll find that journal. I'll get it back for you. It's not lost at all. Okay?" Her words seemed to have some positive effect because his rocking stopped and his muttering lessened.

She had stayed that way with him for about thirty minutes until Kathy walked into the room. "How is he?" She asked concerned.

"I can't see" Lucy said looking at the top of his head "but I think he's fallen asleep. There hasn't been a sound out of him for a while."

Kathy leaned in and supported Pa's body allowing Lucy to let go and stand up. The relief in her aching muscles was wonderful as she stretched to rid herself of the pins and needles she had from sitting in a strained position.

"I'll stay with him for the night" Lucy offered. "I don't think any of his family will be coming in to see him soon."

'Well, I'll watch him for a while" Kathy said "I've just given him some morphine, so he'll be out for a while."

"He doesn't have three days, does he" Lucy enquired.

"Probably not even until the morning" Kathy answered quietly. "Why don't you go out and get a bite to eat; I'm sure you're starving. Anyway, I'll be here if he wakes up."

Lucy didn't want to explain that being seen in public was not a good idea because she was a suspect in an attempted murder, so instead she suggested ordering in some pizza for both of them.

"No thanks" Kathy said "I had two plates of stew before coming over and couldn't eat another bite. But you go ahead."

Lucy went downstairs and looked around for a local phone book, but couldn't see one. She searched for some sort of restaurant pamphlet, but there was nothing like that around. On the kitchen table she saw a bundle of unopened letters, and checked the addresses. There were some for Patrick Doohan of 20 Francis Street, Kilrush, and others for Terrance Doohan 21 Francis street, a third letter showed a Tony Doohan lived at 22 Francis street....."All of the Doohan's live next to one another" Lucy said to herself. On the fridge on the other side of the kitchen were three magnetic key holders – each with their own set of keys magnetized to the fridge, the names of each holder tapes to the holder. Lucy grabbed each set and decided, as she sneaked outside, to start at Tony's house. It took all of twenty seconds to reach the address, but it took many attempts with many keys before she eventually found the one that opened the front door. Stepping quickly inside, she closed the door gently, but her breathing was slightly laboured and her hands trembled from the shock of making an illegal entry inside the home of a stranger. Anthony Doohan – probably everyone called him Tony, would be none too pleased with her being there uninvited, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. It was only a moment later that she thought about what could hurt her: a dog. A magazine article came to mind in which a few career burglars said the only thing they feared when robbing a house was a dog. Well, she was no thief, but still she just hoped to God that he didn't have a dog either inside or outside the house; besides the mauling she might get, mad, continuous barking might rouse the neighbours. After standing still for a couple of minutes and hearing no angry growling noises, Lucy figured that no canine attack was eminent.

A large flashlight hung from a coat hook on the wall inside the door, and Lucy took it for peeking into darker corners. She asked herself what she was doing breaking into a strangers home and quickly came up with several reasons, none that would stand up for a second before a judge, but she was beyond caring at this point. She switched on the tubular flashlight, which to her relief had functional batteries in it. Wiping the sweat from her forehead she took in her surroundings.

The light glowed strongly enough for Lucy to be able to see that 22 Francis Street was identical in structure to the Pa's house except the area that was the shop next door became a large living room area. In fact the entire house, which appeared to have been extensively renovated in an open plan design, was modern and very well kept. The large salon opened up into a cozy dining area, which then lead to a smaller all mod cons kitchen. The difference between the two abodes was so vast, as to be polar opposites. In fact, from where she stood the only connection she could see to the other house was that Tony Doohan also left his light on in the kitchen.

The place she thought looked fresh and modern, the furniture was compact, but looked very comfortable, and expensive. This was a house, she thought, of a meticulous, organized, perhaps even dominant woman. She walked around the living room area which contrary to anywhere in Pa's place had plenty of photos on the walls; Lucy spent a little time looking at the Doohan family from the courting couple of Pa and his wife to be, to their wedding, birth of their boys; the boys growing up; communion and confirmation days, school graduation and then the boys as young apprentice butchers with their father. Then there were weddings, the birth of a child – a girl, and her special occasions growing up. Finally, the last and most recent photo was of the now older twins holding up a large fish, the pride of the catch written across their faces. Their appeared so identical, she wondered how Pa, or even their own wives ever managed to tell them apart.

Her stomach suddenly made a loud grumble and instinct made her head to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge door, she immediately found shelves full of wonderful things to eat. She treated herself to a large chicken sandwich, with a fresh salad on the side. Everything tasted so delicious, that she kept helping herself to all sorts of great food until she began to feel like a certain fairy tale character in the three bears' house. Once replenished, she made some fresh coffee and ate some biscuits. "Awww! There's no more porridge left" she muttered to herself as she downed the last chocolate chip biscuit. "Greedy Goldilocks."

To the left of the kitchen, Lucy noticed a white wooden door and went across to check it out. Opening cautiously, in case of sleeping bears, she noticed the en-suite room that was built as an extension for the couple's daughter. The age of the child was probably in her late teens judging from the pop paraphernalia that adorned the walls. Lucy also guessed that the child's mother had very little influence in the general décor of this room, as bright hues of vibrant fuchsia mingled with neon orange – an ocular attack was felt just looking at it. Lucy pondered on what Kathy had said about her being ill, and hoped she would pull through whatever condition she had. After closing the door, and understanding why the door was shut in the first place, Lucy then went straight ahead and up the small steps to the converted attic; the difference between Pa's room and this was just indescribable. While Pa had only two worn pieces of furniture in his, this had a king size rosewood bed with a deep red African print duvet, a long cushioned footstool at the base and elaborate lamps on rosewood bedside tables; the lot enveloped by a plush, scarlet rug. A glass door fireplace was inserted into the left wall giving Lucy the impression that the wall must look on fire when the logs were blazing. A three place, cream coloured reading couch sat under the sky-light which was three times the size of Pa's window. The walls had strange paintings on them that reminded Lucy of African fertility rituals, many bodies intertwined with aroused male and female profiles. She had never seen a room such as this before and could only describe it as tribal. Figuring there was nothing else to be seen in the bear's house, Lucy decided to go next door to 21.

Closing the door of her second illegal entry of the night, Lucy could immediately tell that she was inside the house of a heavy smoker. In fact she imagined the place had not be cleaned or aired for some time; feeling tempted to return to Pa's bedside, Lucy decided to give a quick peek around.

From where she stood there was a faint light coming from the kitchen; it seemed to be a Doohan tradition to leave a light on in the house at all times and the kitchen appeared to be the collective place of choice.

Lucy had kept the flashlight from the Bear's house and reminded herself not to forget to bring it back afterwards. Turning it on once more, the tubular glow revealed a place very different from the one she had just been in. Here, the decor reflected some of the more simple values of Pa Doohan; there was nothing too recent in the furnishings, they seemed to have come from various decades, but Lucy wasn't sure which ones. The exception to Pa's place was the complete and utter disarray found here; cluttered newspapers, ashtrays full of butt ends, and empty whiskey bottles made up a stench that at first didn't seem strong, but now was beginning to smell putrid. The walls were devoid of any paintings or photos, but Lucy distinctly remembered seeing both brothers wedding photos in the other house.

Going on into the kitchen area, Lucy was surprised to see that there was only one chair at the table; this seemed really odd because Terry Doohan was married. Then it hit her, he was married, but probably no longer. For whatever reason - hygiene issues aside - the smiling woman in the wedding photo no longer lived here. She opened the fridge door and her guess was confirmed; Terry Doohan lived alone, drank a lot of beer, ordered out on most nights, but liked to have one of his own steaks every now and again. That, in addition to smoking like a trooper and getting shit faced on large quantities of Whiskey.

From the kitchen, she walked up the six wooden steps to the same large room as Pa's bedroom area and found more of the same; cluttered newspapers, dirty ashtrays, unwashed clothes strewn about, and a small television which stood on a makeshift wooden structure at the foot of an unmade bed. She was about to turn away from the mess when something on the wall caught her eye. Raising her flashlight, there on the otherwise stark wall hung the largest laminated photo Lucy had ever seen. A beautiful close up of two ecstatic faces jumped out and filled the room with life. Terry and his wife in their early days beamed back at her; the happy young couple whose cheeks locked together and smiles showed their loving state, seemed eternally happy in that briefly captured moment. Lucy suddenly felt the pain of great loss that this man carried around – it wasn't the loss of a love gone awry, but the much more profound, and torturous loss of a love taken through premature death; the kind few ever really recover from. Lucy couldn't help feeling that Terry Doohan was just another Pa Doohan in the making.

Roaming the flashlight around some more, Lucy could find nothing else of interest and thought she should return to see how Pa was doing. Before turning away, she decided to open the window a little – the smell of all the dirty ashtrays, unlaundered clothes, and general lack of cleanliness had become entrenched in her nostrils; letting a little air in could only be beneficial. It took several attempts but she managed to push open the small window in the roof. The wind was blowing hard and Lucy found the fresh air that gushed in to be heavenly. She was breathing in deep lung-filling breaths and didn't hear the noise at first. When it did catch her attention, she recognized it as the sound of fluttering papers. She listened intently for a moment then waved the flashlight towards the sound –it was coming from under the bed. Lucy closed over the window enough to prevent too much wind from coming in, but kept it open just enough to keep the air flowing. Then kneeling down to see what had blown out from in under Terry Doohan's bed, she saw a variety of newspaper clippings and odd torn pieces of paper.

The first few papers that were in nearest reach were of old newspaper articles about a medical breakthrough for some unpronounceable disease. Encircled in a bright red felt pen on another clipping was the address of an American clinic that was proclaiming the successful treatment of the disease with a certain drug. Putting them aside she bent down low, aware that she was now covered in grime, and slowly moved the flashlight further under the bed. At first she only saw more of the same; newspapers and long forgotten dirty underwear. Feeling slightly queasy she was about to bolt out of there when she spotted two shoe boxes. Figuring that Terry Doohan was not the type of man to keep his shoes in a box, she decided to open them. Gingerly pushing the underwear aside with the flashlight, Lucy retrieved the boxes and opened the first.

On top of a pile of photos was a small newspaper clipping of Fiona Doohan's obituary. Lucy read about how she had died suddenly on January 7th at only 29 years of age, and is survived by her husband Terry and daughter Jen.

A daughter! Lucy thought. There was definitely no sign of a child living in this house, that's for sure. Goodness you wouldn't want to keep a dog here, never mind a little child. Still she wondered if the Tony's daughter next door was really Terry's, and if so why didn't Terry raise her? Did he reject his child? Did she even know who her biological father was? Putting aside all those questions, Lucy quickly went through the box of photos and saw a much different house to the one she was in now. A happy family once lived here; there was a man and woman who loved each other deeply, a beautiful baby, and a seemingly very bright future. Some people say hell is life on earth, but looking at the happiness Terry and Fiona had together with their baby, Jen, it seemed that nothing could touch the heaven they had.

Lucy put away the box, and opened the second one. If the first box portrayed how Terry Doohan was before, this second one depicted a completely different image. The first few pieces of paper were numerous copies of court orders to appear for charges relating to driving under the influence, several suspensions of his driver's license and an eventual revocation of that license. There were other notices for arrears to his electricity bill, phone bill and television license. He seemed to be on a spiraling slope downwards. Rooting further down, she gasped as she saw a brown, leather bound journal sitting near the bottom of the box. Her heart beat madly. It was identical to the journals in the library; it had to be Pa's! With barely contained excitement, she immediately grabbed it, peered inside to make sure the pages seemed empty...yes!!! Then stuffing it inside the tip of her pants with her blouse hiding the bulky form, Lucy turned to go, but stopped; she couldn't resist rummaging through the few papers that were left. Underneath the journal was a folded piece of plain white paper which stood out from all the others as it appeared recent, not yellowed with time. She unfolded it carefully and gasped as she read the words before her eyes. Her breathing accelerated and she felt she was going to vomit. The words she had never thought she would see again were written across the page in the same handwriting "Hannah Moore, wife, mother, murderer. Except in this version he had scribbled out a few other words to describe her. The hard reality of her environment suddenly hit her – if Terry Doohan had sent the notes then he had obviously killed Sue and injured Kevin. He was a mad man! Shoving everything except the note and the journal back into the box, Lucy stood up, went to close the window to cover any trace of having been there, but it was too late. She had smelt the foul sour stench of his whiskey laden breath a millisecond before her head was forcefully snapped back by a thick strong hand; in that same space of time, the long, steel blade of a knife was pressed against her throat causing her to freeze with fear.

"Interested in this place are you? he slurred. "Well you've no effin (burp) business here Princess."

He swayed dangerously in his inebriation and the knife nicked her skin making her wince with the pain. The heat of her blood warming her neck as it trickled down her chest. Lucy re-evaluated any kind of self-defence move for the moment. Besides shaking like a leaf and feeling weak with dread, her fear was preventing her from feeling strong enough to fight back. She decided instead to talk to him, and try to find out why in the world this man wanted to kill her. She felt the direct approach would not work here.

"You're Terry, right?" she said croakily, her voice straining with the position of her exposed neck.

"I just wanted to let you know that your Dad is very ill next door. I have just come from seeing him and....well...he's very near the end now. So amm... I just thought you might want to know that, so you can see him before....you know."

The effect Lucy had expected this information to have did not happen at all. Terry did not put down his knife and go quietly to his dying father's bedside. Instead, he took a tighter grip on Lucy's hair and roared at her that his father was already dead to him. Then with unbelievable ease, dragged her across the room and threw her down the stairs.

*

One of the monitors monotonous beeping suddenly began to make a different more alarming sound which brought two doctors and two nurses rushing to Kevin's bedside at the prestigious Blackrock Hospital in Dublin. When the Hartnett family, who had been sitting in worried silence and looking much the worst for wear, saw the commotion from the viewing room they immediately gathered at the glass partition; where they could see directly into the private intensive care room; access to Kevin was not as yet allowed. The room they were in was a specially built glass chamber for family members whose loved ones reposed in a critical state. The five onlookers watched anxiously as one doctor checked the machines that provided a mound of information on Kevin's condition while another checked his neck. They were speaking English, but only in hurried medical terms that sounded gibberish to the untrained ear. While one removed an intubated oxygen pipe from Kevin's mouth, the other doctor nodded to his colleague then switched off the life support machine. Mrs. Hartnett watched the lifeline to her son being cut and banged frantically on the glass "Nooooooo" she wailed loudly in dismay.

One of the nurses quickly rushed in saying "No, no, Mrs. Hartnett, this is very good news. The monitor is telling us Kevin's trying to breathe on his own, so we're taking him off life-support for a moment. That's all". A sobbing Peggy Hartnett, who was surrounded by her husband and sons, grabbed the nurse in a tight embrace and thanked her warmly.

A moment later the other nurse tapped the glass and signaled to the other nurse to hurry back.

"Let her go now, Ma" Ham said gently as the nurse winced with the bear hug she was getting from a very relieved mother.

"She has to get back to Kevin" he said leading his teary mother back to the couch. Once released the nurse rushed back and saw that Kevin had begun to breathe by himself. Although this was a miracle in itself for the Hartnett's, a second miracle came along an hour later when Kevin opened his eyes, and after waiting to regain focus gave a very weak smile to his family. The Hartnett brothers clapped loudly, while Mr. and Mrs. Hartnett hugged each other with joy.

After being monitored for a few more hours, the doctor whose team had worked for over two days non-stop to save Kevin's life came to see his family and said "your son is a fighter – that's for sure. To come back from the injuries he had can only be due to the fact that he was found and rescued when he was."

"That's Lucy" Ham gushed. "She found him and got him to the hospital."

"Lucy?" Mrs. Hartnett asked "whose Lucy?"

"She's the one who Kevin was trying to protect, but the fella that was trying to kill Lucy, got to Kevin first. If Kev's breathing today it's because of her."

"Is Lucy a mobster's woman or something?" Mrs. Hartnett asked with a disapproving look.

"God no!" Dan choked "she's just a regular person who is being pursued by some sicko. The worst of it is: she's being blamed for injuring Kev."

"Sorry" the doctor said interrupting the bizarre direction the conversation had taken "I just want to say that you can go in now and say a brief hello, but nothing too strenuous. He's asked to speak with...ammm...Ham" the doctor said slowly, unsure if he was mispronouncing the porcine name.

"That'd be me." Ham piped up.

"Right then Ham" the doctor said lightly "off you go, but better make it quick though. He won't be feeling strong for some time".

After the Hartnett procession had ended, Kevin sighed deeply and hoped that what he told Ham could still be of help to Lucy. For all he knew she could be lying lifeless in some gutter. He knew the determination this killer had because he had seen the madness in his soulless eyes.

*

Although Lucy was very grateful there had only been six steps to descend, the speed and force with which she had been thrown had the same effect as if she had been hit with a car. She had barely managed to pick up the teeth she had lost in the fall and place them in her fist before being hauled up off the floor by the throat. The fact that she had even kept the teeth gave her a glimmer of hope of surviving; it told her that she would be around to have them repaired. But that had been many hours ago, and now she hadn't the same amount of hope anymore; it had been beaten out of her. Her hope was now the same size as the narrow slit in the only eye that could open. Both had been pounded to the point that she felt there were two golf balls inside her eyelids. Her jaw and a few ribs were probably broken as well but she couldn't touch them because her arms were tied to the only chair in the kitchen.

Despite his initial inebriation, he had continued to knock back the whiskey, but did not pass out. His rage seemed to prevent him from falling into a stupor. The only thing she noticed as he sat across from her on the first step on the stairs was his right arm constantly hung limply at his side.

"Sho Luchy" he slurred heavily "how you feelin' now? Not so good I bet!"

"You'd be right there Ferry". She whispered honestly. "I've felt beffer."

"Do you know why I'm keeping you alive Luchy?"

She managed to whisper a barely discernible "You're enjoying my company".

"I need to see you schuffer, like I have schuffered. I, (burp) need you to see what it wash like for me when you killed my wife."

Lucy's head jerked suddenly at those words, her heart began to beat faster and a sudden gush of fear burned her gut "No! I fink you've gof the wrong perfon" she said through painful rasps. "I never killed anybody."

He popped some pills in his mouth and knocked them back with a large gulp of whiskey. "I'm afraid you did" he insisted "you even had help".

"Look!" she gasped with terror, feeling he was preparing her last moments "you have the wrong person."

"No, I'm right. You killed my wife. Aaaaand....." he continued on "it was my father who helped you".

"You're a fucking lunatic!" Lucy roared, but it came out like a weird hacking sound. Her voice box was damaged when he had grabbed her by the throat. Through the dripping bloodied slit in her eye, she could make out that he was holding up something in his hand; it was the knife! She gasped, but quickly admonished herself, and thought that if he was to kill her, she wouldn't beg, she wouldn't plead, but she would make sure that she pissed him off to the max.

"Going to get it right this time Terrance. Are you?" She said grinning. "Are you one hundred percent sure I'm the woman you want to kill? Because I know you've been wrong before. I've seen you screw-up Ferrence and you certainly make huge blunders when you fuck-up."

He did not react angrily, but simply grinned and said "I may have been wrong then but I'm not now." He chuckled evilly at whatever thoughts amused him and Lucy guessed that her death was probably at the forefront of those thoughts.

"What about the cop you attacked?" she asked "you don't know that he's alive and well. So that's another screw-up of yours".

If Terrence was starting to get angry it didn't show. Instead he explained to her as though it was necessary for her to understand "Oh, I would have killed him, but I didn't get to finish what I started.....Luck was with him on that day, otherwise he'd be stone cold dead now."

"Why, Ferry?" Lucy asked missing the articulation her front teeth gave her "why would you want to kill a man who did you no wrong."

"His wrong was in helping you!" He roared. "That's what warranted his death."

Lucy's skin became covered in goose bumps. This man truly hated her. By now her fear had reached a point where she felt she would have a nervous breakdown. But she wanted to live, she wanted to be able to experience the simple pleasures in life, not die at the hands of a madman. With the will to survive renewing her strength, she tried her very best to hold it together. She would wait for an opportunity, no matter how small it may be – he would slip up soon. He had to be otherwise he would murder her just as easily as he did Sue. "So Ferry" she persisted arrogantly, albeit a false arrogance. "Are you going to tell me why you're on a murderous rampage?"

Something seemed to be wrong with him. She wiped her eye onto her shoulder in an effort to clear the blood but didn't manage to clear it adequately, probably because she almost passed out with the pain in her ribs. She could make out that he was staggering, and shaking his head and she wondered if he was having an epileptic fit.

"My wife died" he said through gritted teeth "without knowing what was wrong with her, and now I want you to die without knowing why your jugular was slit by a man you don't even know. All I'll allow you to know is....that...aggrrrrrrrrhhhh!"

She couldn't tell why he had started to scream, her swollen eye had become bloodied again and she couldn't blink it clean, but his loud moaning told her that something was wrong with him. Well not that anything was right with him to begin with, but whatever was happening, she was sure it was unexpected. Despite his incapacitation, he tried controlling his breathing and continued on "...if I had read.... the...the....journal.....before.......my wife would have....lived." He groaned loudly again then fell silent.

By now she was sure he was having a fit; she braced herself for the searing pain in her ribs then twisted her upper body to rub the bloodied eye on her shoulder. This time it worked, most of the blood was wiped away allowing her to see clearly, but still only through a slit sized opening. He was holding his head in his hands, gritting his teeth and writhing in pain. A spasm of pain seemed to paralyze him and he fell back onto the stairs, dropping the knife as he did so.

The explosions in his head and the partial numbness of his right arm had just begun to recede when he became aware of a loud clunking noise. At first he was not sure what it was until he received the first hard kick to his testicles. Yet despite the force of the blow, he barely flinched; such was his depth of intoxication. When she managed to get in another equally hard blow to the same area, a great stabbing pain in his stomach and back made him keel over onto his side; paralyzed from the excruciating pain he couldn't prevent her from grabbing the knife on the floor and dragging herself out of his reach.

Lucy felt she would pass out; never in her most frightening nightmares could she imagine having an experience like the one she was going through. Still tied to the chair, she clunked slowly out the kitchen, through the living room and towards the front door. The fear of him regaining his strength and grabbing her before she reached the freedom that lay on the street made her panicky and breathless, but she fought hard because she wanted to get out. Unable to open the front door by the handle, she turned her back to the door, bent over so that the chair raised over her back then tried to reverse hard out through the glass. The sight of Terry Doohan bearing down on her made her scream loudly as she flung herself through the glass and onto the foot path.

*

Kathy looked out onto the square from the safe distance of Pa Doohan's kitchen; she saw Mr. and Mrs. Reilly headed over to the butchers just as they had done every Thursday morning for the past thirty five years; today was no different for them, but it was for the Doohan's. She saw them read the traditional death notice announcing the passing of Pa Doohan. Pinned to a black, rose shaped voile was a typed note that Kathy had placed only two hours earlier. Nobody from the family was around to do so, and she knew people would be expecting the place to be open for business, so she rang a friend at the funeral parlour and asked him to bring her one. Even the doctor had already come and signed the death certificate, but she didn't want the undertakers taking the body to the funeral home without the family's authorization -whenever they decided to show up. These thoughts were going through her mind when she saw the Reilly's suddenly jump as if frightened. They simultaneously looked to their right and Mrs. Reilly raised her hands to chest, a look of shock on her face; Mr. Reilly pottered off as fast as he could towards whatever was happening. She heard him warn his wife to stay where she was, not to come closer. Curiosity got the better of Kathy and she rushed out of the shop to see what the commotion was.

If the square had been deserted yesterday, it was teeming with people today. Busy shoppers were hopping from market stall to market stall choosing their meat, vegetables and other wares unique to the Thursday encounter. Now while there are certain noises associated with a market place, glass breaking and people screaming are not some of those. Lucy crashing out through the door brought a flurry of onlookers. An elderly man stood in horror at the sight of a badly beaten woman tied to a broken chair, holding a large bloody knife and lying in a state of semi consciousness on the footpath.

She was vaguely aware of a rush of feet around her then of someone bending down and saying "goodness Lucy, what in God's name happened to you?"

The exhaustion that she had just been through, and the extreme pain of her wounds made her begin to slip in and out of consciousness. A voice she recognized as that of Kathy's was asking her to let go of the knife, but the last thing Lucy remembered muttering was "I haff my two teef in my pockef"

Chapter 10. Walking Blind

Now while most villages can attest to having an odd person or family living amongst them, no one would ever have thought that any member of the Doohan family could be associated in any way with anti-social behavior. This was a family who had been supplying the best meats to the people of Kilrush for decades, who were very involved in their community and whose annual fund-raiser alone donated all of the money needed to keep the youth-aid center open. The Doohan's were pillars of their community. So, for the family to be involved with something, as serious in nature as what transpired on market day, naturally, there was a sense of general confusion amongst the people as to what really happened. Muttered questions circulated as to why a woman was detained in Terry's house, and why Pa died alone with nobody from his own family to accompany him through his last hours. Even more questions arose about Terry's arrest, subsequent hospitalization and about Tony's absence. Those who had seen the woman escaping from Terry's house couldn't believe that he had inflicted such terrible injuries on her; it had to have been someone else; but who? For now much was left unanswered and the lack of answers was most troubling.

Sergeant Molloy of the Limerick Gardaí, returned for a second time within the space of a few days to the town of Kilrush. The first time had been to personally oversee the investigation of a brutal attack on a fellow officer; the second was in response to information received only an hour earlier as to the identity of the perpetrator. Meeting with local law enforcement, sergeant Molloy, who had already relayed the information by telephone, now explained for a second time what had come from his man currently recovering in the Black Rock hospital, Dublin. Apparently the perpetrator made the mistake of believing the officer was dying and therefore revealed that he was a simple butcher from Kilrush who nobody would ever suspect of killing the woman he thought was Lucy Courtney. But he never got to finish off the officer because he began to have some sort of spasm that totally immobilized him. That gave the Kevin Hartnett a chance to lock himself in his car and wait until help arrived. By the time the perpetrator had recovered, he was already suffering partial paralysis and left the scene believing the officer to be dead.

When all the information was exchanged, sergeant Molloy immediately took off to Ennis General Hospital to interview Terry Doohan. In the meantime, all attempts to contact his brother Tony were in vain.

*

"He's had a what?" The Sergeant asked.

"Transient Ischemic Attack or an I.T.A in other words a blood clot." the young and very fatigued looking doctor explained. "From what I can see, he has been drinking excessively and smoking excessively for a certain period of time; all of this plus his age, weight, high cholesterol level and high blood pressure had made him a walking time bomb. He's probably even had several attacks already. These can cause temporary, but excruciating pain even limb paralysis while the clot moves. However once the clot settles in the left side of the brain a stroke is imminent. I would say that that's what we're looking at here."

"Can't you operate?"

"Not with his blood alcohol level" the doctor continued. "He's had the equivalent of almost four bottles of whiskey over a period of about twenty hours, in addition to a mixture of medications. We've already pumped his stomach, but there's no way we can operate yet. We're trying to flush out his system, but it takes time."

"And what's that?" the sergeant asked as he pointed to a large mound under the blanket, directly in the vicinity of the patient's privates.

"Ice!" the doctor replied "his groin area received some sort of blunt force – I'll guess it was a couple of kicks- his testicles are twice the size they should be". The doctor guessed what the sergeant's next question would be and said "the kicker can be found in room 7, ward A."

Molloy nodded his understanding then glared down at the unconscious patient and asked "When is he expected to wake-up?"

"We cannot tell for sure" the doctor replied while signing off on a chart. "Time will tell. But he's fairly messed up, what with the alcohol, the pills and the clot."

The sergeant looked hard at the young doctor and said in a low voice "he had better live because I want him well enough to face the charges of first degree murder of an innocent woman, the attempted murder of one of my men and the attempted murder of the woman I sent him to protect. I want to see him rot in jail".

The doctor was not impressed with the sergeant's view of why this man's life should be saved and did not hesitate to remind the Garda what his oath meant to him "Sir, I am here to save this man's life, and I will do everything in my power to do that, not because of your agenda, but because his life has the same value as that of any other person coming in here."

Molloy just looked at the young man then left the room. Outside, he spoke to the officer on watch duty and left specific instructions "nobody except for medical staff goes in or out. If, his brother Tweedle-Dee shows up, call me immediately. I'll be down in room 7 ward A".

He descended the two flights of steps with great speed and ease, which belied his age. A daily hour long swim had helped him maintain a level of fitness which he had strived to maintain over the past fifteen years after finally kicking his two- pack-a-day habit. Now it was the stress not the tobacco killing him. Arriving at the nurse's station, Sergeant Molloy introduced himself to the head nurse on duty and asked to meet with Lucy Courtney's doctor. She explained kindly that the doctor was busy doing his rounds but would speak with him as soon as he had finished. After thanking her, he sat on a wooden bench a little further down the corridor and waited.

Thirty minutes later a small ruddy faced older man walked quickly up to the policeman and immediately proffered a hand "Sergeant Molloy?" he said with a smile "I'm Doctor White, I'm attending to Lucy Courtney."

"Oh hello, Doctor" the Sarge said as he stood up "yes, I'm Sergeant Jim Molloy from Limerick Police Station."

"Right Mr. Molloy, how can I help you?"

"I believe there were photos taken of Lucy Courtney's injuries when she was brought in. Is that right?"

"Well, yes of course" he said with a look of concern "her injuries were extensive, terrible in fact".

Jim Molloy looked at the doctor and said "I'll need to know all about those injuries, as part of this investigation. And then I'll need to speak with her for a few minutes."

The doctor contemplated this for a moment and said softly "She has taken a right beating that's for sure. You may see her, but you'll see how limited she is in her ability to communicate."

"What kind of damage did she sustain? Jim asked.

"The list is long; broken ribs, broken arm, broken jaw, extensive bruising and swelling to the eyes, and we're not sure if there's any permanent damage there yet. Also there's swelling of the larynx, cuts to arms and dental loss."

"Goodness" the Sarge said after the litany that's what you'd call being roughed up".

"You go and meet with her now" Dr. White said "and I'll prepare the photos for you in the meantime".

*

Looking at the positive side of a bad situation was something Lucy was trying to do as she lay in the dark with her eyes bandaged up, her jaw wired shut and stitches in various areas of her arms. Although she could smell the vile odor of hospital disinfectant and boiled food, she wasn't able to see any long bleak corridors. Placing her fingers through her lips, she felt for the void of her missing teeth, but to her great surprise found they had been repaired before her jaw was wired. At least her restricted movements would help them to set.

"Hello. Miss Courtney?" a voice spoke interrupting her thoughts.

"Mmm" she replied in the best mumble that she could manage.

"It's Sergeant Molloy of the Limerick Garda station.

Lucy nodded and remembered him asking her not to leave the hospital. She wanted to explain that she ran away because she felt she had to find whoever was responsible for the attack on Kevin. She wanted to say so many other things, but was restricted by the wire and metal in her jaw.

"Well, I suppose I didn't get a chance to talk to you on that night. Did I?" he asked paternally.

Lucy, who felt compelled to say something, replied "mmm" weakly.

"Now look, I didn't come by to place any blame. Nothing like that at all! If anything, I have to say there was some mistake about your particular involvement in all of this".

Lucy thought it was about bloody time he realized this, but she had more important things she needed to hear. Signaling that she wanted to write something, the Sarge took the writing pad and pen from her bedside table and placed them in her hand.

She wrote something quickly, hoped that it was legible then turned the pad for sergeant Molloy to see. She waited momentarily until he had read the question then waited with baited breath for his answer.

"I cannot say anything about Kevin's condition as yet, Lucy. I'm sorry." The pad seemed to go limp in her hand with despair. She couldn't understand why even his own superior didn't know about his state of health, she came to the conclusion that he was either still comatose, dead, or in a neuro-vegetative state. Sergeant Molloy's promise to call Kevin's family and then to let her know was not convincing at all.

"Lucy I know you cannot talk, but you can write, so I will need you to write a detailed account of what had happened to you - everything. I know this may be a lot to ask what with your injuries, but we need to have your statement today. I will have somebody with you to help you through the process. We will go slowly, so that this doesn't affect your convalescence. Okay?"

"Mmm" she replied grumpily then he thanked her, got up and left.

*

The days confined to a hospital bed passed at such a slow pace that Lucy thought she would go insane from the isolation that sensory deprivation brought. It's not that she needed to have someone come and see her, but it was the lack of being able to see anybody that was most difficult. The nurses would change the bandages on her eyes daily, but she still could not see and although the doctor had assured her that her sight would return, it was taking longer than she could bear. Since the windows to her world had been banged up, her frustrations were making her feel irritated and down; the need to heal elsewhere was getting to a point where she was contemplating escaping, the only glitch in that plan was being unable to see where she was escaping to. Maybe she could get someone to help her as far as climbing into a taxi – after that she could manage alone. But who could she call?

"How's it going Luce?" said a familiar voice that suddenly produced Lucy's first attempted smile in many days. She stretched out a hand searching to make contact and when she felt Ham's hand in hers, she held it tight, delighted that he had come to visit.

"Mmm Mmm" Lucy tried to say thank you through a wired jaw.

"Well Lucy, you look like you went the whole 15 rounds at a boxing match – and won!" Ham said with a concerned chuckle.

Lucy raised two fingers to signal victory just as Eamon and Dan walked into the room "jaysus she's telling you to eff off already Ham!" Eamon said as he greeted Lucy warmly. Dan pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed where his brothers were seated "behave youse two now, okay? Or ye'll be out on yer ears." Dan warned.

Their sudden silence told her that they found her injuries to be a bit of a shock, but she didn't care, it was nothing that couldn't be mended. She patted around her in search of the writing pad and wrote what she hoped was legible writing.

Ham came close by and looked at what she had written. "Is Kafka alive?" he read aloud.

"Jaysus Lucy, everyone wants to know that one."

She rewrote the word and Ham pretended to finally understand.

"Oooh is Kevin alive? That's what you're asking."

She raised a thumb to signal he had understood her and waited for his response. He looked fondly on Lucy and said with a smile "He is indeed alive and well; he's pulled through, is now out of intensive care and is a scourge to the staff. They're hoping to throw him out in about a couple of weeks. "

This was all she had been waiting for; hearing that Kevin was well brought an enormous amount of relief to her; so much so that salty tears trickled freely from her eyes, burned the cuts and dampened the bandages covering her eyes. Ham placed a Kleenex in her hand and she nodded thanks before blowing her nose. Then most unexpectedly Ham leaned in next to her and gave her a gentle hug "thanks Lucy" he muttered "he wouldn't be with us if it you hadn't reached him in time."

Lucy didn't want to say that he would have been in much better shape if she had not been obsessing over the journals and reached him sooner. She was just delighted to hear that he was going to be fine. Once she had regained control of her emotions, she lifted her pen and wrote feverishly before turning the pad towards Ham.

"Where's journal?" he read.

"What journal Luce?"

She wrote feverishly again and Ham had seen what she wanted before finishing the phrase.

"All right, hang about there while I have a look."

She waited in the dark and listened as Ham bent down near her and rooted in her bedside locker then suddenly he took her hand and placed the journal in it. She held it close to her and raised a thumb of thanks to Ham, the emotional release of relief came over her again and she needed another Kleenex.

Guessing that Lucy would want as many blanks filled in as possible, Dan, Ham and Eamon began to recount what they had heard happened after Lucy crashed onto the street.

"Well Lucy" Dan started "I heard that the large butcher's knife you were holding on to, had to be pried out of your hands after you passed out. It was a local police officer who got to you before the ambulance and managed to extract it from your grip. He had grabbed some plastic wrapping from Pauline's Plant stall and wrapped it in that. Of course Pauline has been using that as a claim to fame since" he chuckled.

"There was also a district nurse, Kathy Reid who stayed with you all the way here" Eamon piped up "she's the one who found the journal tucked into your pants and made sure you'd have it nearby when you woke up. I suppose if you hid something in your pants, it had to have been important to you. Anyway, the irony of this whole thing was, as Terry was being removed from the house, his father's body was being removed at exactly the same time next door. One went to the morgue, one to the hospital under arrest. "

"This hospital?" she wrote.

"Yeah" said Ham in a whisper "but the problem is we can't find out which room. For some reason they won't tell us, so we were hoping you could try and find out for us."

She wrote again then showed the phrase to the brothers.

"I'll tell you - get me out of here!"

"For feck sake Lucy!!" Ham exclaimed "You can't ask us to do that. You have serious injuries that require on-going medical attention; we can't just take you away from here."

"Fine!" she wrote in big sprawling letters revealing her anger and frustration.

"Look, we'll do it" Dan said suddenly. But Ham immediately disagreed "No way Dan. We're not doing it and that's that!"

"Ham, shut the fuck up for once. Okay! Kev's alive because of Lucy and that's all that counts. I don't care if she wants to go to Timbuktu, I'm taking her! She's well able to look after herself." He turned to Lucy and said a little breathlessly "tell us when you want to leave".

She scribbled immediately "Tomorrow. Nine. End of visiting hours".

Eamon who had remained silent up until then spoke up "I'll come by to see you tomorrow, late in the afternoon. Have the room number for us then."

Ham was shocked "you're with him on this?" he said to Eamon while waving a hand at Dan. "I don't effin believe yez!"

"Either you're in or you're not" Dan said standing up, ready to take the disaccord in whatever direction it would go.

Ham didn't want a scene in front of Lucy, "all right!" he said then raised a finger in warning "if you want Lucy out of here, then I'll agree, but only if she'll stay with us."

"What?" Eamon and Dan said in shocked unison.

"All of our houses" Ham replied "each one in turn".

Dan looked at Ham like he had lost his marbles "we're all married with wild kids.....and wives. Lucy needs quietness, she needs to convalesce and that won't happen at any of our places."

"Ma and Da's then" Ham proposed.

This time Eamon gushed in "but Ma thinks Lucy's a mobster's whore".

The sudden silence and the flapping noises that followed told Lucy that Ham and Dan were telling Eamon exactly what they thought of him in gestures only.

Thanks, I'll be fine, she wrote.

"Where would you stay?" Ham asked concerned.

She wrote again and Ham leaned in to see what it was "With the Godfather."

*

"Now we'll be taking off the bandages, so expect to find the adjustment to the light a little bit uncomfortable" the doctor said as he sat near Lucy. "I've closed the curtains, so there's a minimum of light in the room."

When the white gauze pads were lifted from her eyelids, she felt a pain in her eyes and squinted as she adjusted to the filtered light. She blinked many times when trying to focus, but her vision remained blurry. "Can't see. Why?" She wrote worriedly.

"Give it a little time" the doctor said as he pulled open her eyes and looked into the pupils. She squinted hard again, but still couldn't see. When he shone a small light into her pupils she jolted with the pain.

"Sorry about that. I had to see a little better. But light sensitivity is normal right now. Your vision will improve as the hours pass".

Lucy ignored the apology and wrote some more "the man who attacked me, I heard he's here in this hospital. Is that right?"

The doctor put down the light and sighed heavily "Lucy, you don't have to worry about him, at all. He is being guarded far away on the fourth floor, so there's no way he can get near you."

She said nothing more so the doctor said "rest now, and I'll check in with you tomorrow" then he got up and left.

Lucy figured the Hartnett brothers had been gone about two hours ago, so to execute her plan she would be going for a walk in a short time. The doctor had left a mirror beside her and although she hadn't intended looking into it, curiosity got the better of her and she raised it to her face. Through the blur, she saw dark areas – bruises that were far more extensive than she expected. Her fortune was that she couldn't see the details of her face.

*

"Right Lucy" the nurse said after taking her blood pressure "that looks good. I'm off for the night now, but I'll be here to check in on you in the morning. Don't forget you're scheduled for a blood test just a little later on. Okay?"

Lucy nodded then waited for her to leave. One shift was ending and the other was just beginning; this was when patient communications reports and incidents were transferred between the nurses. For a short period of about fifteen or twenty minutes, there would be a minimum of availability to attend to the sick. Lucy's leg muscles were weak and it took some adjusting for her to feel strong enough to make her way out of the room. The fact that her vision was still blurry didn't help much either, but she could see enough to get around, albeit awkwardly. Her pace was slow as she made her way around with other patients out in the corridor breaking the monotony of being confined to their room, but she blended in well. Being in a corridor without having a panic attack was most certainly due to her limited eyesight. Having passed the nurses' station undetected, Lucy went out a door then up two flights of stairs to the fourth floor. She had to rest once she got up to the top of the landing as the effort of being active again made her muscles tremble.

She stopped at the grey steel door that led onto the fourth floor; a three by four inch glass window situated at eye level allowed her to peer through on to the empty corridor. Pulling open the door, she looked carefully to the right and left and when she saw nobody patrolling, stepped inside.

The sound of chatter coming from the fourth floor nurses' station immediately caught her attention and she moved slightly to the right in order to listen in. Information updates were being exchanged on all the patients in their respective wards, or rooms, but it took about fifteen minutes for her to hear the update she needed. Knowing that being caught having any kind of contact with her attacker could undermine the eventual court process that she would have to undergo, Lucy made her way down the corridor determined to get the answers that only Terry Doohan could provide.

*

The guard saw the woman slowly approaching and immediately noticed how bad her injuries were. Despite her young age, her gait was labored; in addition to the extensive bruising on her face, and she seemed to have some sort of visual impairment. She continued walking towards him in what he would consider was a direct collision course with his chair. He stood up when she was just a couple of feet away and spoke to her

"Oops, mind your step there miss; you're just a little bit off track." The woman stopped suddenly, looked beyond him and tried to speak through the gritted teeth of her wire-bound jaw and swollen larynx. "Oh dear; is dish de gentsh doileds?" she asked sounding gravel-like.

"You're in the corridor actually" he explained and the ladies toilets are just past me on the left."

"Tank you" she said and plodded past. He returned to the extreme boredom that guarding a bed-ridden criminal can bring. At least Laura would be along soon – it was her shift tonight, and he was definitely going to ask her out this time. He checked his watch about twenty times until finally she appeared beside him, standing there like an angel in a white overall uniform. "Hello Matt" she said with a wide smile and a glint of desire in her eye. "Good to see you again".

"Hey Laura" he said standing up "good to see you too." After an awkward silence, he continued "on until eight are you?"

"Same as yourself" she said coyly.

"Would you be on for a cuppa tea together later?" he asked with more bravado than he felt.

"Aren't you going to be here babysitting?" she smiled.

"No!" he gushed, sweat forming on his brow "this fella's transferring out in a few hours' time.

"All right then." she said as she began to walk away, "pick me up outside the nurse's residence at eight".

When Laura was out of sight, Officer Matt rushed to the men's bathroom.

When Lucy saw the officer close the bathroom door, she slipped into the room of Terrance Doohan and walked boldly over to where he lay. A fever seemed to have provoked a sort of delirium in him where he fretted for the photo of his wife which the police had seemingly taken from him. Feeling little pity for him, Lucy went over and woke him abruptly.

His surprise at seeing the woman he had attacked only days earlier was evident from the gasp he gave upon opening his eyes. Lucy glared hard at him, even though his face remained somewhat blurry. Although it pained her greatly, she spoke again through her wired jaw. "Why did you do it?"

"Fuck off - princess" he spat.

She grabbed a bunch of hair on his head and tugged hard. "Isn't so nice is it?" she said venomously. She didn't fear any retaliation because she had heard the nurse's report that he was still in restraints. "Tell me why you did this" she persisted. But he just repeated himself. Lucy realizing that she had little time before the guard returned pressed Doohan for an answer "You had better give me some answers, or something that you treasure will go missing."

"I have nothing worth taking".

"I believe you do. You see the police man you sliced up did not die. He's alive. In fact, I saved him. So I know that if I were to ask any favour, it would be done. Now I believe there is a very precious photo of yours currently in the possession of the police; I could arrange to have it lost; and believe me it will be lost for ever." She jerked his hair out of her hands and waited, but he did not appear fazed at all "I'm on the way out anyway, so it doesn't make any difference now."

"You're wrong about that; you've nothing that a good dose of detox wouldn't help. And my connections within the police tell me you're being transferred to another hospital tomorrow morning - the one in the jail. Your days inside are going to be a lot longer without her photo."

He appeared furious, but said nothing. Lucy fearing she would get caught turned to make her way towards the door when he called after her "check your bank account princess!"

"What?" she asked spinning around angrily.

"You heard me Princess. Now fuck off!"

She wanted to pulverize him, but getting answers that way would mean she had become just like him – and nothing was worth that.

"You had your chance" she spat "I'm going to get that photo Terry, and I'm going to keep it." He struggled to free himself from his restraints and went to shout, but she quickly stuffed a couple of Kleenexes in his mouth. "Too late Terry" she said and walked to the door. Seeing no sign of the guard outside, she quickly slipped out of the room, the last sounds she heard were of Terry Doohan spitting out Kleenexes.

*

As promised, Eamon came by to see her late in the afternoon. She could see him a little more clearly now; her vision improving slowly.

"Hey Lucy" he said as he peered around the door. "How are ya?"

"Rrready" she answered through the wire restraint.

"Great" he smiled. "Did you get the information you needed?"

Lucy wrote down Terry Doohan's room number - the fourth floor –room 8B"; if the plan to transfer him to jail went ahead, the room should be empty, or have another occupant by the time Eamon got there. It wasn't that she was trying to save Terry any pain; it had more to do with saving the Hartnett parents any more grief – even if Mrs. Hartnett thought she was a mobster's whore, vigilantism solved nothing.

Eamon smiled widely and told her to be ready at eight he'd be back with Ham and Dan. He left a bag with a change of clothes that had been recuperated from her impounded car then left. Lucy laid back on her pillow and decided to have a nap before the great escape.

*

"Jaysus Luce, would ya wake up" Ham said shaking her a little harder than he wanted to. Lucy opened her eyes and felt really awful; it took her groggy mind a few moments to comprehend why there were three anxious faces standing over her.

"Ham?" she said frowning. "What's going on?

"It's eight o'clock. We're supposed to be getting you out of here. Did you forget?" he asked concerned.

Lucy jolted up suddenly remembering the plan "ohmmgod!" she said adjusting the wire in her jaw "I justch schlept through de ishcape!!"

The Hartnett brothers had not heard Lucy speak since she had her jaw wired and everything that had a T sound came out as a "D" the letter "S" as an "Sh" sound.

"Dey musht have given me a whopper shized shleeping pill or shomething because I never feld like dis before."

"Are you okay?" Ham asked concerned.

"Yeah?" Dan said "because you sound a lot like Sean Connery"

"I'm fine. I'm fine" she said wiping drool from her mouth. "Is everything okay?

"No! Fuck it! Dan swore. "We just found out Doohan is gone; but we don't know where."

Lucy wanted to avoid any questions relating to that and said "well just give me twenshy sheconds to get dressed."

It took ten long minutes for Lucy to get dressed because of weakened muscles. She would have to build up her strength again. Lucy finally emerged from the room with the only possession she had – the journal. "Okay let's go" she told the brothers.

Leaving the hospital was very easy; they filed out unnoticed along with many other visitors coming and going. She linked Dan's arm as they headed slowly towards the elevator. Once near the exit, Eamon pulled the white van alongside the entrance and Ham and Dan helped Lucy inside.

"Where are we going?" she asked as she sat in the passenger seat "to our parents" the three answered simultaneously.

Lucy rolled her eyes but said nothing; she could only imagine the joy the Hartnett parents would feel with a mobster's whore coming to stay with them.

*

Lucy needn't have worried about disturbing anybody; Mr. and Mrs. Hartnett were staying in Dublin with Kevin until he was discharged, so she had the cottage to herself. Once at a safe distance from the hospital, she called to tell them she had discharged herself and left Hannah's address to send the bill. They were not pleased with her actions, but were unable to do anything about it.

Ham, Dan and Eamon visited her as often as they could, and on Sunday afternoon, they brought their wives and children. Lucy felt so happy to spend time with them because they represented a sort of normality that she had not known for some time. While she was recuperating physically, her mental state was another thing. Yes, she was feeling free from the confines of the hospital, free from the worries and tensions of the past few days and free from the limitation of being visually impaired, but there were nightmares every night which were consistent and disturbing. She was always trying to hide Pa and Hannah from Terry who had just killed Kevin who was trying to kill her. Every night her throat was slashed and every morning she woke up crying for help.

On one of her check-up's in the out-patients clinic, the doctor prescribed counseling; she declined the offer saying that she had no repercussions from the attack, but he did not seem convinced. What he didn't realize was that Lucy couldn't even come close to talking about what had happened; the only thing that was real was the journal – she hadn't read it yet, but she would soon; in the meantime she kept it close to her at all times.

With her healing progressing each day, her world became clear once more, decisions that were put on the back boiler for weeks now seemed to make perfect sense – she would move into Hannah's house while she attended university. The only thing preventing her from taking action was her inability to communicate properly, and the wire in her jaw was not due to be removed for another two weeks. The dark bruising on her face had become various shades of yellow and green, but was a good sign of healing. However her wired jaw couldn't be measured by any particular physical sign and this was what seemed interminable for Lucy. Being unable to eat anything solid resulted in her losing a good few pounds but this was something she would rectify as soon as the wire was removed.

Terry's words about her checking her bank account were constantly in the back of her mind, but unable to go to her local branch, she decided to wait until the wire was removed and she could talk properly.

Ham, Dan and Eamon and their respective families were wonderful during her convalescence; they had given her all the comforts possible and their frequent, but brief visits were a blessing.

A daily two hour walk was part of her uphill climb to regaining full strength. Each day brought its own challenges, but she pushed herself to the limit of fatigue in order to build up resistance. One day, while out exploring, she happened upon the river bank and Kevin's boat. Boarding the jetty made her feel happy, as if he was near her. Her somewhat serendipitous state was due to Kevin having managed to pull though a close call with death; or maybe she simply remembered how far he went and the risks he took to help her; whatever it was, sitting on the deck became a daily necessity. It certainly helped the recuperation process which was painfully long.

The journal was never far from her reach, but she had yet to read it. A part of her was felt unable to handle the secrets it held, and without Kevin there.... it just seemed too difficult.

Seven days later, as soon as the wire was removed from her jaw, Lucy underwent extensive dental work every day for a week. This was extremely difficult and painful owing to the danger of opening her mouth too widely and risking damaging the mandible. While the mandible was repaired, it remained fragile, but it was vital that several other fractured teeth be repaired. Adding to the pain of that week was the visit of two detectives, and Kevin's supervisor, Sergeant Molloy looking for Lucy to provide more details of her attack, and to inform her that there was still no official date on the court hearing.

*

One week later a very excited Ham stopped by to tell Lucy that Kevin and his parents were coming home later that same day, as Kevin had been given a clean bill of health by the physician. Ham said his wife along with Dan and Eamon wives were quickly organizing a welcome home meal and a quiet celebration for the occasion, and Lucy just had to be there. As he hurried away, she thanked him kindly for the invitation, waited until he was out of sight then gathered up her change of clothes and the journal and headed off with the keys of the boat house in hand.

As she made her way along the back roads she thought about what she was doing. It wasn't running away – because she would have wanted to be there when Kevin returned - it was giving a family the space they deserve. A homecoming such as this was so special for every member of the Hartnett family, that to have an outsider there would simply be an intrusion on a very intimate moment. Anyway, she had left a note thanking them for their kindness and explained that her leaving was simply to allow them to restore their lives to what it was before.

Stepping inside the house boat, Lucy had difficulty holding back her emotions as she remembered how deathly he looked that night at the hospital, how she was sure she was going to lose him, and how the guilt of him being attacked would not leave her.

The place was exactly as they had left it on the morning they went to visit the priest; nothing had been touched since. It was already early evening and the light was beginning to fall; feeling no desire to eat, she threw off her shoes and lay down on the bed her mind filled with thoughts of so many things past and present that she felt weary. Drifting away into thoughts of Kevin, Lucy was asleep before she knew it.

*

She was aware of her arm being lifted, but couldn't decipher what the soft sensation was on her hand. As what happens sometimes when emerging from sleep, the mind is in an altered state and unable to recognize a sensation, it sends an alert to wake up. Lucy opened her eyes wide and saw that her arm was indeed raised, but the soft sensation on her hand was Kevin Hartnett's lips.

"Hello Luce" he said softly.

Her eyes widened and she sat up quickly, looked at him for a second then they held each other tightly for a long moment. When they broke apart, Lucy looked at him and said smiling "oh my goodness Kevin, it's so good to see you. I can't believe you're here."

Kevin kissed Lucy gently on the lips "I was hoping I might find you here".

"Well I see you haven't lost that cop instinct of yours" she said smiling. But her smile belied what she was thinking. Far from the strapping man he had been a few weeks earlier, Kevin now looked so thin, frail and terribly weak. "You're looking well" she said knowing it was a little lie.

"Lucy, I got my throat cut not brain damage – I know I look like hell."

"I wouldn't say that. I'd say you look well for a man who just escaped death".

"I have you to thank for that" he said holding her hands.

"No! That's not true. You would have been fine if we had never crossed paths."

"Listen I heard what you did to help save me that night, but honestly I can't remember very much."

"Are you amnesic?" she asked hoping they wouldn't really talk about the ordeal.

"Well, I can remember bits and pieces, but nothing is too clear. I mean I remember he walloped me one in the face and I also remember him putting the knife to my throat, but that's it. The next thing I know I'm in a hospital in Dublin and I've been out for a week."

"Well you certainly know how to give us a good scare" Lucy said wanting to end their trip down memory lane; going over the whole episode was something she could not handle at all.

"I have the journal" she said taking it out from under the pillow. "I wanted us to read it together". Kevin's return was all she had been waiting for to go through it.

"You're a trooper for managing to find this you know. Ham gave me all the details, so I know what you went through to get it". He grinned momentarily then removed a small ultra-violet light from his back pack.

"Where did you get that?" She exclaimed in delight.

"Believe it or not, Eamon had this since he was a teenager. Don't ask me why."

"All right." She said smiling. "Are you up to this?"

"Ready, willing and able".

She opened the worn leather journal, placed the light over the page and watched in amazement as the white, neatly written words of Father Dempsey emerged before her eyes.

Chapter 11. Hidden Truths

05-66-029-22- (5th journal of the 66th civil parish 2nd of August 1921).

The hidden words that I write are my only solace in these dark times, for they are the voice of truth that cannot yet be heard; but someday, when Ireland is free they will resonate for generations

In this account, I relate to you, not the atrocities caused by the brutal Black and Tans, which can only be classed as another cursed blight on the men, women and children of this land, but the acts of those brave souls who prevented the deaths of many innocent through great courage and sacrifice. The greatest of all these is the contribution of a small, slither of a woman by the name of Hannah Moore, and this is where her story begins.

In the dead of night, a distant yet frantic tapping on the window jolted Noel from a restless sleep; without hesitation, he grabbed the loaded rifle that in recent months was never more than an arm's length away, gently shook his wife Eileen awake and gave her the signal. Wide eyed with fear she huddled awkwardly out of bed, held her heavily swollen belly and followed her husband as he made his way cautiously from their small bedroom towards the erratic sound.

Noel had gone to bed clothed, another habit he had taken up of late- present times afforded few men a restful night's sleep - being prepared could make the difference between life and death. His bare feet glided silently over the cold rough floor beneath. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Eileen was no longer there, she had entered their daughter's room and he felt relief that she and the three girls had time to hide. The make-shift crawl space he had built under the floor wasn't big but there was enough room for them to be comfortable for a few hours, plus he had made sure there was enough water. Most importantly he had warned them in the event of their being captured what they must do and say – their very lives depended on it.

The shuffling noises of Eileen and the girls descending into the crawl space ceased – as did the tapping noise. Entering the kitchen, the largest room of their diminutive house, Noel held the loaded rifle with strong steady hands. At thirty years of age his broad solid frame was the result of tilling many a field, and working endless hours with a ram shod hoe. Despite his old tools he managed to work the land in order to provide for his family, and although some weeks were leaner than others, nobody went hungry. His fierce blue eyes cautiously scanned the room, and as he listened intently for more noises, sweat formed on his brow, adrenaline pumped through his veins, his whole body was primed for confrontation. Getting a man out of his bed during the night was a well-known tactic used by the Tans, and if you were foolish enough to be unprepared you were as good as dead. Too many less cautious men and women had lost their lives when they were taken from their homes in the night.

In the cloudless moonlit sky, the form of a man suddenly appeared at the window making Noel's heart skip a beat. The man once again began tapping unrelentingly at the window. Noel walked stealthily to the back door, opened it silently, and peeked outside. The large field around his house was a meadow with tall waving grass that would soon become large cocks of hay to feed the livestock during the winter months. Only yesterday, he had told Eileen that the mix of fine weather and rain was doing wonders for the grass, but now as he looked at it, he cursed its height as he imagined a hoard of Tan's hiding out amongst the long blades and wild flowers. Crouching down behind some rain barrels, he sneaked silently around the side of the house and up behind the man whose frantic tapping had become louder and more urgent. Noel raised his rifle to the target,

"Cease that tappin' while you still have a hand to scratch your arse with."

The man's body jerked slightly with fright before spinning around to face Noel, a sigh of great relief escaped his lips as he released the pebble from his hand and raised them to show he was unarmed. In the moonlight night his emaciated face appeared pale and clammy, the overcoat he wore had been made for a much larger man, even the cap on his head made him look child-like. "Thank God you're there" he uttered breathlessly "I thought you'd never......I was afraid you weren't home..."

In those few words uttered, Noel knew the man was not a local, his accent was that of a Dubliner – an educated one at that, and God knows they were one of the worst kind because they not only mimicked the Brits, but many had no problem living in an occupied country! Although these days Dubliners and country-folk alike it was hard to tell who were the traitors; Irishmen and women were betraying their own with the promise of a bit of money or passage to America –few ever got to bask in anything better, they were killed by the very ones they betrayed. So what was an educated Dubliner doing knocking on his door in the dead of night? Had someone given up his name to the crown forces, or was he a traitor sent from Dublin Castle to spy...or again a genuine fella in need of help? Noel's eyes darted suspiciously towards the field, still expecting marauding Tans to ambush him at any moment. Knowing the atrocities they were capable of inflicting on him and his family he placed his feet at shoulder width and prepared to make the stranger talk.

Quickly raising both hands higher until they stretched high above his head, the stranger pleaded "please, don't shoot!" he cried. "I need to talk to you – I really need your help! For goodness sake – will you not help your own kind!!!"

Noel did not respond immediately instead he watched as the panicked stranger tried to control his breathing. He knew now the man was alone and Noel's family was safe for the moment, but his curiosity was piqued and he wanted to know why the man had come here.

Noel spoke with cold menace "say what you came here to say, and be quick about it or get off my land while you still have a pair legs to carry ye"?

The heavy breathing of the frightened stranger became laborious and when he spoke it was in breathless whispers "...look....I was sent here; they told me you'd help me!"

"Oh they did, did they? Well I don't know who the hell they are, but you had better get away from here while you still can."

"I'm a brother" he said with conviction "and I need shelter."

Noel ignored the reference to him being an IRA member, but felt riled that this could be a rat trying to weed out the weak. "I have no brothers" he spat "and tis the likes of you that are getting innocent families slaughtered 'round here. Now", Noel said approaching the stranger, anger rising in him "be on your way and don't bloody well come around here again."

Panicked, the stranger blurted out "Kathleen's third field needs harvesters."

The words caused Noel to do a double take, he stood stoic momentarily before lowering his weapon a little; he never expected to hear that phrase being uttered to him.

Yes Noel was a brother – an IRA member through and through; a sympathizer to the struggle for Irish freedom, but he only became a member after his sister was murdered by an RIC policeman in Limerick over a year earlier. She had gone to visit her cousin for a few days and for no apparent reason both women were dragged from the house during the night and shot dead. No arrests were made and no investigation was held either. Any attempts to probe for answers resulted in persistent silence from the RIC. A few days later while attending his sister's funeral he was approached by a scruffy and malodorous elderly man in a long overcoat who while offering his condolences told him that Ireland had lost a true friend who had no fear – she had given her life so others could be free. Tearfully, Noel went to ask what he meant by that, but never got a chance, a small bronze medal and a piece of paper were pressed into Noel's hand and the stranger left.

After mulling over it for a few days Noel decided to go to the address that was written on the piece of paper and ended up in the scruffy man's home. From him he learned in depth about his sister's participation in Sin Fein, how the political struggle consumed her, and how her brave missions had helped them achieve some of their goals.

Following in her footsteps seemed only natural, and soon Noel became a rebel – a freedom fighter, and a man looking to instill justice in his own land. After some rudimentary training he got to prove his worth on several missions and was soon participating in everything from providing shelter to those on the run to gathering intelligence. About a year ago he was given a note with a message from Michael Collin's right hand man; on it was a code that when spoken by another, Noel should follow that person's instructions without question. In case of doubts the words were to be followed by the third line of Mise Eire – a poem by Padraig Pearce.

Now the man had just spoken the code, but had the code been extracted through torture? He didn't know what to believe.

"I have no idea what you've just said" Noel said calmly, but underneath he was shaking. If this man wasn't a Tan spy, those words came from the top, and that gave him a responsibility he never thought he would have to shoulder. "And nothing you could say could make me think you were anything but a chancer trying to worm his way into a man's hospitality".

""Great my shame" the stranger continued "my own children who sold their mother."

The code was complete. Noel knew this man to be a true brother. "Oh bollocks!" Noel exclaimed loudly completely lowering his rifle. "I had to be sure" he said walking towards the stranger and extending his hand in friendship as way of an apology.""

The man took his hand and smiled briefly "Noel Moore, I feel all the more safe for your thoroughness. Now, let's go inside, we need to talk."

Noel hurried to the crawl space and helped Eileen and the girls out. His heavily pregnant wife was breathless and looked the worst for wear but quickly brushed aside any concerns he voiced. More than anything they were all relieved to see that there hadn't been a raid, but from Noel's expression Eileen guessed something serious was going on. Noel knew but didn't want to discuss anything yet – at least not in front of the girls. Yes they were no longer little ones but they still needed to know the parents had everything under control. So, as Noel skirted back to the kitchen, Eileen stayed with them and waited.

Noel threw some logs into the hearth and restarted a fire that had extinguished hours earlier. He eyed the stranger who had a look of deep mistrust in his eyes, like he was constantly on a high state of alert.

With the fire roaring and the tea brewed both men settled across from one another at the large highly scrubbed wooden table. Noel was surprised to see how the small frail man appeared much younger in years than he had in the moonlight. His grubby allure suggested he had slept many a night under the stars without regular food and shelter; if anything he looked much like a younger version of the scruffy man. Noel reached for the fresh soda bread Eileen had baked earlier that evening then broke off a large piece which he smattered with fresh butter and offered unceremoniously. The young man eyed it greedily before taking it gently and nodded a heartfelt thank you. He would have devoured the bread savagely had he been alone, but his upbringing forced him to control his famine and he somehow managed to eat the bread in a mannerly way.

"You can call me Jim" the stranger stated directly while wiping the excess butter from his lips.

When Noel nodded in compliance Jim, or whatever he was really called continued. "Now, today is a very important day, vital in fact, and I'll need your help for several things."

"Okay" Noel said without hesitation "just tell me and it'll be done".

"Before dawn we'll be cutting across the fields to a farm; the fella there's expecting us and we'll have all we need from him for the job."

Noel guessed that Jim would need him to serve as a guide around the area and show all the short cuts, that sort of thing. "Grand" Noel replied "Whose farm is it we're visiting?" he asked as he refilled their mugs with the strong brew.

"Mulchair's"

Noel stopped pouring and looked at Jim wide eyed, "Matt Mulchair's farm? Beyond at Carlan's Cross?"

"The very one." Jim replied. "Now let me tell you what I need you to do for me...."

Noel now sat up straight looking hard at the man before him - his perception of this mission had just changed drastically because Mulchair was a mad bastard, a renowned arms maker, dealer, and runner – the bane of the R.I.C in the South. The Crown forces had never managed to capture him, though they tried on a regular basis. But nobody ever placed a foot on that farm unless they were either suicidal or preparing to undertake some serious action.

"Are ya all right there Noel?" Jim asked.

"Grand" Noel said softly "Mulchair's it is." But before Jim could continue Noel spoke again. "You do realize Matt is one of the most insane souls you'd cross in a day's walk" as are his boys – and they're only young fellas of 13 and 14 years old!"

"Exactly what I need" Jim replied patiently.

"He's expecting us, and everything will be ready."

"He had better be expecting us" Noel said with raised eyebrows "or we'll never make it to his front door alive!"

Later that morning, before the sun rose, Jim and Noel headed off through the dew drenched meadow surrounding the house past several fields then on past Hasset's Woods on their way to the farm. Neither man spoke very much, the weight of the unknown lay heavy on their minds. Before leaving, they had spent about some time going over the best route to take to the farm, as they wanted to be sure to avoid a Tan ambush. The longest way was decided upon, and although it meant crossing several more fields than the shorter alternative, it gave them more shelter should they need to hide. Under grey skies and a cold North wind, Noel lead the way; his thoughts turned to Eileen and the child growing within her; the short time confined in the crawl space had not done her any good, and being cooped up in an awkward position had made her look poorly, but when he asked after her health, she waved her hand as if to swish away any concern and bade him back to the kitchen. She was in her last month of being with child and he wondered had the fright done her some harm.

The men silently passed a small herd of Friesian cows, which momentarily paused their grazing to observe the interruption. But, while Jim and Noel cautiously made their way along the bush and tree lined borders of the fields, they did not know that their every move was being monitored by a lone person following a little further behind.

The grey clouds eventually cleared away to a rare cloudless sky under an August sun. The hiking duo was perspiring heavily by the time they entered the broken cobblestone yard of Mulchair's farm. There was an air of abandonment and neglect about the place. Agricultural productivity had ceased long before and had given way to weapons of destruction. They had just passed three large conifer trees to the left of the main gate when the distinct sound of a rifle clicked behind. Spinning around in alarm they faced the brazen grin of young skinny red-haired boy who had trained his weapon upon them. Noel remarked how the lad's stance seemed as professional as any soldier of the State and what's more the oversized gun appeared light weight in his thin arms.

"Me Da's waiting for ye two in the barn" he said without preamble.

"Good man" Jim answered coolly while saluting him as he would any soldier "a job well done."

Unfazed by the compliment, the young lad kept his weapon trained on them and said "you'd be dead, if Noel Moore wasn't with you."

Jim, who offered no reaction that Noel could decipher, looked at the boy for a moment and said with a slight grin "I'll come by again some time and talk to you about a job with us" then turned away towards the tumble-down wooden barn.

Once inside Noel and Jim's eyes adjusted from the sunlight to the darkened interior. It took them only a moment to see they had come face to face with another of Mulchair's offspring, who greeted them in much the same manner as his sibling. Noel nodded a silent hello and was allowed to pass unharmed, Jim too, but he got a murderous look for his trouble. Although the boy was barely a couple of years older than his brother, the strong defiant look was unmistakable – the young fella was probably itching to shoot something, or someone.

Years of neglect had rendered the barn derelict and the strong metallic smell suggested nothing organic had been stored there in years. Bits of rusting junk lay strewn about an area of twenty square feet along with tufts of old dirty covered straw whose dust was visible in the rays of sunshine piercing through the gaps and holes in the roof and walls. Suddenly, from the far corner of the barn a six foot 3 inch tall, wide shouldered man with a head of unruly frizzy red hair and beard to match gave them a mean look as he trudged towards them. Matt Mulchair certainly appeared intimidating and nobody crossed him for fear of revenge. This reputation came from an incident with the now defunct parish priest who at the time adamantly refused to allow Matt's wife to be buried in the family plot at the local cemetery because she was not Catholic. Matt went ahead and lovingly buried her himself, waited three days out of respect for the dead then returned to the parish priest's house and forced him to empty his house of all his food, furniture and personal belongings. He then escorted the clergyman as he reluctantly donated everything to the poor and hungry people of the village. When the day was done Mulchair escorted him back to the empty shell of a house and watched as the priest sobbed "I have nothing - no belongings, nothing at all" Mulchair half throttled him as he told him "that's exactly what Jesus had. Start behaving more like him not the pompous arse that you are now!!!"

An hour later on Mulchair's horse and cart, Jim and Noel stopped behind the General shop in the village where they quickly unloaded some of what Matt had prepared - several boxes of what Noel deemed to be enough guns and ammunition to occupy the entire county. The shop owner had been expecting this delivery and had cleared a large area in the back where normally colourful textile rolls were kept in stock. There were two other men helping the shopkeeper and although the work went well, everybody was tense. Getting caught with such an assignment would mean the gallows for all of them, and while everyone in the village had some Tan atrocity to speak of, nobody doubted there could be anti-Sinn Fein spies amongst them. Once the loading was finished, Jim and Noel wiped their perspiring brows and stopped momentarily to drink some water that the shop owner's wife had brought them. Her normally wide, warm smile was absent today and her face seemed grim. It was obvious she did not want them to linger so the men returned their empty mugs grateful for the refreshing effect and thanked her.

"Right" Jim said as he turned to Noel offering an extended hand "it's time." Noel shook his hand, nodded and quickly departed on foot towards Mac's Hill.

Mac's Hill, which was situated about an hour's walk from the village, was in a technical sense not a hill at all; in fact many would say it was nothing more than a field with a good bit of a slope on it. Still, the view at the summit, if one could take time to appreciate it, was of rolling green fields dotted with modest houses and the small farms they occupied. More importantly for Noel though the summit permitted him a clear view of the main road into the village – and strategically, that was exactly why he was there. He had been given explicit instructions and many lives depended on him succeeding in his mission. Looking at the beauty of this green paradise it was hard to imagine how much turmoil this stretch of land had already seen, peace was to elude it for a while yet –this particular part of the county was extremely dangerous, renowned for its scattered IRA hideouts and subsequent frequent Tan ambushes. Meandering around the farms was a narrow road that led from Ennis, or Limerick \- depending which way you were traveling from. It was here, twenty feet directly below him that his mission laid.

An hour or more later the skies opened and grail rained down hard on him; a strong north wind blew and he shivered as the cold and wet penetrated his clothes down to his skin. Eileen had told him to take some bread with him, but he hadn't had the appetite for it. That was before dawn this morning, now in the late afternoon he'd really go for any of Eileen's cooking and the bit of warmth from the stove. He raised the collar of his jacket knowing it would make no difference at all and thought about what Jim had told him. The plan was that he shouldn't have to wait more than two hours; Jim would show up in the meantime and the job would be done. But he had been there at least four hours and still there was no sign of Jim or the lorry. Ignoring the numbness in his legs and hands he remained in his position because he was prepared to stay out all night if necessary.

Another hour passed, he was concentrating on one direction of the road only – waiting patiently to spot it in the distance. Jim had told him the lorry would come from the left, but there was still no sign of it and there was still no sign of Jim; he didn't know where the bastard had disappeared to. He hoped to God he hadn't been killed. Just then he spotted it, off in the distance, the easily identifiable beige tarp covering and rectangular frame of a Tan lorry. He smiled to himself as he watched it following the curves of the road; he had already calculated the exact point where the truck would be when he would have to begin the short descent below. He got up onto his knees and was about to climb down when he heard laughter. They were just on the road below him – three men, on bicycles - patrolling Tans who had stopped for a smoke - and a piss. Alarmed, Noel looked to the oncoming truck and then to the three men below, he was screwed! His breathing felt loud and he fought to quieten it. The truck was getting closer now; the men were still laughing below, their accents revealing the different areas of England they originated from; he had a decision to make – a sacrifice. Calmly he placed his hand into the small black satchel beside him removed the items then picked up a stone beside him and threw it towards the bushes on the opposite side of the road. The noise startled the Tans and they immediately turned towards the sound, prepared their arms and cautiously made their way to the bushes. The lorry was only a few feet away. Noel got up on to his knees and threw several metal spikes onto the road – he swore aloud as the bullet hit him. One of the Tans had spotted him, and at that same moment the lorry came upon the spikes and the sound of punctured rubber hissing as the sharp metal pierced through the tires caused the lorry to careen dangerously before finally stopping a few yards further on.

Two Tans emerged from the rear of the truck and another two – the driver and passenger- jumped out from the front. All men had their arms at the ready, their adrenaline pumping in preparation for an IRA ambush. The three Tans who had already been there signaled their intentions to the new arrivals then scurried up the side of the hill to the top, but all they found was a dead man with a bullet in his chest, alone in the middle of nowhere with no weapon on him. As they rifled through his pockets the sudden crack of gunshots whizzing past made them duck for cover. The three instantly returned fire as they recognized the modus operandi of IRA ambush.

One Tan suggested inspecting the small round wooded area off to the right at the bottom of the hill, but the others disagreed preferring to return to the truck, but only after they had kicked Noel on the way past.

With the chatter of the Tans below, a badly injured Noel let out a sigh of relief, he had done a good job of pretending he was dead, even though he had wanted to scream out when they had kicked him. With all the strength he could muster, he reached under his jacket and removed the grenade he had hidden in his armpit and struggled to lower himself down the hill and away from the Tans. But exhaustion set in after only a few seconds and he had to give-up any attempts to become mobile. The warm blood was spreading quickly from the bullet wound seeping across his clothes like a flowing red stream. His head began to swim and the pain made him feel nauseous; he did not want to die here, alone on this hill. Not like this.

"Daddy! Oh God Daddy you're hurt."

Noel frowned at the sight of his daughter Hannah kneeling over him looking extremely alarmed.

"What are you doing here? He mumbled. "How did you know where I......."

"I've been following you all morning." She said as she wiped her tears away and smiled. "Ma's furious, I'm sure of it; I sneaked out while she was in the outhouse because I wanted to know where you were going." She removed her woolen shawl, placed it under his head then opened his jacket talking nervously all the while "I waited below by the fairy fort watching you watching the road. Then when I saw you fall, I ran towards you but the Tans came and...." The sight of the gaping wound silenced her; just below his heart blood spurted rhythmically onto his skin, soaking his shirt. Tears welled up in her eyes. "You're bleeding so much" she said looking at him. Without hesitation, she tore the bottom of her long petticoat and placed it on the bullet hole.

He winced in pain but denied he was dying "I'll be fine child. Don't you worry."

"Yes Daddy. You'll be fine." But Hannah knew these were the last moments she would ever spend with her father again. The cloth quickly became soaked with blood so she tore more cloth and replaced the used one, but Noel took it off and held her hand "there's something I need to tell you, and I had better get it said before I go."

"There's so much blood!" She said not wanting to accept the finality of the situation "I cannot seem to stop it."

He knew it was gushing out; he could feel the life draining from him. "He looked at her tenderly and smiled a little "you were always curious Hannah..... Thank God for that....because it brought you here and made my last few minutes in this life feel like heaven".

She swallowed hard "Daddy, come on, you'll be fine" she lied. "We just need to get you off this hill and back home." She went to stand up but he immediately caught her hand in a weak grip, "Get down child! They'll shoot you too." he said pulling her arm. When she was lying lower, but still kneeling beside him he looked into her eyes and made the hardest decision of his life "Hannah, I need you to finish what I couldn't".

Unable to say anything, she looked at him quizzically as she pressed more cloth on his wound. Without saying anything he took her hand letting the cloth fall onto the grass then opened her palm and placed a strange object onto it.

"It's a small bomb" he explained "I need you to throw it...."

Her eyes opened wide when she realized what he wanted her to do. "Daddy, no..."

"....only as a last resort. That truck that's on the road down there" his breathing came in short gasps now "it must not reach the village. It's headed to The Big House and it's loaded with new weapons from Germany. They're not rifles, or bombs, but something worse than anything we've ever seen. They're trying to use chemicals! It's vital they're destroyed or they'll kill every last one of us. You have to stop that truck, Jim was supposed to, but I don't know where he's gone...hours late."

Hannah looked at the bomb in her small hands and shook her head "Daddy, no" she said sobbing. "You... I can't do this. I don't want to... I'd hurt people; I wouldn't even know how to use this thing".

He made her hold the grenade tightly "If Jim doesn't come, pull out the pin........ target...and throw... immediately..... at the truck" he rasped loudly as he held her hand tightly. Then his breathing suddenly stopped.

Squatting down, Hannah looked at his bluish pallor, at the blood that no longer spurted but trickled down into the earth, and then at the bomb in her hand. She rubbed her face hard then cradled her head on her knees and cried silently. At sixteen years old Hannah had just had her first mission thrust upon her by her father's dying words.

"Why did you ask me to do this?" She said as she laid her fingers gently on his eyes and closed them shut. Removing the shawl from under his head, she covered his upper body as much as possible. "I'll be back Daddy" she promised "I'll finish this for you before I take you home" then she skirted low to the edge of the hill.

Hannah had no idea what she was going to do, but she had to think quickly. Her father may have waited hours for Jim, but something told her he wouldn't be showing up. So, if the truck had to be destroyed then it could only be done with the bomb. There were eight Tans standing around the truck – all of them were heavily armed, so walking up to them was out of the question, she'd be dead before she was within ten feet of them.

The hill dipped lower on the right side and was dotted with bushes near where the truck had stopped. Making her way down to the bushes unspotted was no problem, controlling the terrible shake in her hands was- that and a heart that was beating so loudly it seemed to block out all other sounds. She peered over the top and saw the Tans were standing too close to the vehicle for her to take any action; a distraction was needed.

A minute later she was back up near her father's body; still keeping low she removed his black satchel threw it over the top of the hill onto the road then without losing a second she made her way back to the bushes near the truck. Along the way she could hear the Tans running towards the satchel which provided the only opportunity she would have to get things done.

She positioned herself as close as possible and went to remove the pin but her hand shook like a leaf. Taking a deep breath, she gained some sort of control over herself, pulled the pin, threw the grenade then turned and ran for her life. Two of the Tans had spotted her and opened fire as she ran, but they stopped when the grenade exploded. The deafening sound was still ringing in her ears as she sprinted across the rain soaked fields; the slippery grass, protruding branches and her panicked state caused her to slip and fall many times. With bleeding scratches, bruised shins Hannah Moore ran home.

Eileen had been standing at the kitchen window when Hannah appeared at the edge of the meadow; her profound relief was immediately replaced with anger at the worry she had caused her; physical punishment wasn't something she would give a sixteen year old, but right now all she wanted to do was shake Hannah hard.

When she finally burst through the door breathless and weary her sisters scurried excitedly over to her simultaneously chattering about how long she had been gone, and how they thought she was dead; but it was their mother's silence that caused the girls to become quiet.

Hannah ran to her mother's arms sobbing heavily "Daddy's dead" she blurted out "the Tans shot him in the chest and killed him." Eileen's head shook in disbelief, her face whitened as she stepped back from her daughter's embrace. "What kind of nonsense are you talking about child?"

"It's true Mammy" Hannah sobbed "he's still lying there above on Mac's hill. I was with him when he died beside me." Hannah deliberately omitted about blowing up a truck.

The wails from her sisters shook the house, but it was nothing compared to Eileen. Her spirit died there and then when she fell to the floor in floods of tears for which no words would bring consolation.

Later that evening Hannah found herself incapable of helping anyone in the house; her younger sisters were still crying, her mother was sitting by the stove in the kitchen as lifeless as a statue and Hannah still had no way of getting her father's body down from the hill.

The Mulchair brothers suddenly appeared in the kitchen and without preamble asked Hannah what kind of help she needed. She looked at them in confusion, those boys had not stepped into another person's house since their mother died, what were they doing now? They waited silently for her to tell them what to do and finally she was able to explain about her father's body. They immediately headed off in their horse and cart saying they'd pick up the priest on their way back.

At sunrise the next morning, Hannah dashed through the pouring rain towards the stone shed behind the house to pick some turf for the fire. There was a big day ahead, as she had to prepare for her father's wake. With a heavy heart, she bent down and began the mundane chore of filling the basket with the soft brown sods. The first night after Noel's death was awful; her sisters had not slept for some time because they were crying and fretting. Eileen's decent into depression or detachment from reality had propelled a sort of reversal of roles, where responsibility now lay entirely with Hannah. But patriarchal Ireland as it was, expected sixteen year old girls to marry and have babies, not run a farm and a home alone. It wouldn't be long before concerned neighbours would be encouraging Noel's brother and his family to come in and take over the running of the place. She could never allow that to happen – not while there was life in her body. Looking after her two younger sisters, a baby, her ailing mother and the farm would take a lot of hard work, but it certainly wasn't beyond her capabilities – they were all manageable things. However, something more difficult to manage was the guilt; it was eating her up inside. Over and over again, the events on the hill replayed in her mind, and each time she altered the outcome by having her father walk away alive and well from the attack. But these were only fantasies, which made her reality even harder to bear. His warm smile was gone forever, along with the protection and security his presence afforded. And for what noble cause did he risk his life; to live in a free nation? His intentions were those of any soldier – to defend his country, and while this was certainly an honourable act, his dying changed nothing! How many more lives would be lost before there could be peace? Her own actions certainly did not promote peace; having thrown a bomb into a lorry was weighing heavy on her conscience. She could only deal with this by telling herself she too had acted as a soldier, albeit a reluctant one.

All these issues swam incessantly in her head, and she really needed to talk with someone, but there wasn't a soul within whom she could confide. One thing was sure, she cursed the day that fella Jim ever came to their house – he carried death upon him. With her bucket full she stood up to leave, when a man suddenly stepped out from the shadows and into the dim light of the tiny window, making her gasp with fright; the peat falling into a small pile on the ground.

"Hello Hannah" he said gently, "'tis me Jim. Sorry for scaring you like that".

She stood glaring at the man responsible for her father's death. Noel perished on the hill while he waited for Jim to turn up and provide support. "Believe me, just looking at you right now, tis not scared I'm feeling" she snapped, her heart beating madly.

"You threw the grenade yesterday. Didn't you Hannah?"

A defiant expression formed on her face, how could he have known that? "Where the hell were you yesterday?"

"I cannot answer right now", he replied in a low tone.

"I think you had better tell me why you left him alone at the top of that hill."

Jim lowered his head "I should have been there.....I'm sorry, I was detained."

"You're sorry!" She scoffed "well so am I. I'm sorry I no longer have a father, I'm sorry my mother has lost her mind so she cannot even dress herself, and I'm sorry you ever showed up here."

"Did you throw the grenade yesterday?" He asked.

Hannah looked at him in bewilderment. Why was he so fixated on whether or not she threw the grenade? Could he not see the destruction he caused? She felt so enraged she wanted to inflict her pain onto this man who caused nothing but sorrow since he set foot in their home. But she managed to control herself and lied about the grenade "I have no idea what you're talking about, and I would think you'd have enough sense not to come by here after what you did. We're burying my father, or had you forgotten you sent him to his death? "

Jim's face was difficult to read but his voice sounded sincere "I'm truly sorry for your loss. It was not my intention for anybody to die, and I mean that Hannah; we had a very simple operation to carry out, but things....things did not go as planned. But just so you know, when you did throw the grenade, no Tans were badly injured.... the truck was totally scrapped, which was what we needed."

"Delighted you got what you wanted" she snapped "now get out!" Her anger towards him was fierce yet she felt enormous relief knowing that nobody had been harmed in the blast.

"I'll leave" he said quietly "but think about this – your father was a great man who was proud to defend his country, and he did so many times".

Hannah held up her hand for him to stop "I have no wish to hear about your kind of patriotism; it's worth nothing to me, and I'm sure it's worth nothing to the many other families who lost their loved ones fighting the Tans in your stead."

He nodded his head resolutely; there was no point in trying to explain what happened – she was hurting too much to believe him. If anything, she was scared out of her wits and rightly so! A lot of responsibility had been thrown upon her overnight.

"Of course, Hannah, You're right!" he conceded. "Many brave men have died in the struggle to beat British domination and unfortunately we can't bring them back. But those lives were lost in the name of freedom – something that our land has not known for centuries. Our fighting is not in vain though; we are almost there, we almost have it – an independent, home governed nation where every man, woman and child can live free of tyranny and oppression."

Jim paused letting the words sink in; he knew this speech by heart having used it on every eager recruit he had ever trained before. The emotional response it elicited rarely deviated from impassioned allegiance to the cause. Observing Hannah's expression he saw that for the moment she was not a suitable candidate for the next job he had in mind, but soon, she could prove to be very useful indeed. As he made his way to the shed door he turned and reflected momentarily on his words before he spoke "This may have been Noel's last job, but it certainly wasn't his first. Be proud of who he was."

When she gave no response, he knew he couldn't force the issue anymore. He bent down picked up the scattered turf, and placed the filled basket in her hands before quietly limping out of the shadows into the light. Looking over his shoulder he glanced at her before leaving "good luck to you Hannah, and once again I'm sorry Noel is gone".

Catching a glimpse of his profile as he spoke, she immediately noticed the deep colored and extensive bruising around his eye, the ugly gash across his cheek and the purple swelling on his neck. Her doubts about him being detained dissipated somewhat, but mistrust of him remained. Somebody had beaten him, but whom, the Tans, perhaps, or could it have been a drunken brawl? Maybe he had tried to join Noel on the hill, then again maybe not. The sight of her dying father came to mind, but was quickly brushed aside for sanity sake. There was too much work to be done without thinking about lives lost and the likes of Jim whatever his name was.

Outside the rain and dark clouds had given way to intermittent sunshine and gusty winds that whipped her long skirt around her ankles. Pausing momentarily to feel the sun's rays on her face she looked at her home which appeared so different, so strange now almost surreal. Her heart ached for things to be as they were yesterday, but that was only wishful thinking. As she put down her basket to open the back door the glare of something white amongst the sods caught her attention. Pushing away a piece of turf the corners of an envelope jutted through the brown fibrous peat in the basket. She lifted it out and dusted it off before opening it. Her father's handwriting leaped off the page as the notes of money fell to the ground, his words spinning together weaving his last wishes into her heart – his voice pleading with her from the grave ".......do this for me Hannah- mo croi".

Carefully folding up the paper and placing it in her apron pocket, Hannah wiped away her tears and felt a resignation of his passing; he would never come back but he had requested something of her and she would complete it, for him. Reaching down into the basket, she gathered up the money he had left to cover his funeral expenses and went on into the house.

Later that day Hannah, her sisters, Eileen and Hannah's friend Babby, all stood by the graveside watching Noel Moore being laid to rest. Many people from the village came along to pay their last respects, which was a feat unto itself owing to the menacing presence of the Tans. They were looking for retaliation for yesterday's truck bombing and bullied young and old for information. Father Dempsey was worried about his parishioner's safety and suggested postponing burying Noel for a few days until the tension died down, but Hannah wouldn't have any delays. She believed that her father's status as a local hero would attract even more of an influx of Resistance members who would want to give their fallen comrade a military send-off complete with a twenty one gun salute. The thought of having the Tans and Resistance fighters en masse in the same area was a blood bath waiting to happen. What's more, hearing gun fire over her father's grave would be just too upsetting for her family – especially her mother; there was no glory in commemorating his death with a symbol of violence.

While the coffin was lowered into the freshly dug grave Eileen's wails were heard above the crowd. Father Dempsey's brief but somber parting prayer for the repose of Noel Moore's soul had many in tears, but Hannah did not show any grief, or sense of loss. Instead she stood strong; her head upright, her arm clasped tightly around her mother's shoulder, her younger sisters by her side. Her stony expression was one of defiance to those around her who would think her incapable of providing for them. She was sending a strong message to those present – this is my family, under my care alone. Standing there beside the many grievers, Hannah did not appear to be affected by her father's death, but inside she was missing him so terribly, her heart felt it would explode.

When the coffin was slowly lowered into the grave, Eileen suddenly broke away from Hannah's grip and plodded desolately forward for one final glimpse at the box encasing the man she loved. As the priest prayed aloud the dirt crashed on top of the wooden box and Eileen's water broke.

Another girl was born to the Moore family, but an emotionally fragile Eileen was unresponsive to her baby. The newborn itself was weak, if not altogether limp coming into the world and when no cries were heard, the midwife feared for the child's health. Encouraging Eileen prompted no action; pushed beyond her emotional limit, the only sounds to be heard were of her incoherent muttering. Hannah and Babby also tried to intervene, but Eileen would not even hold the dying child. The younger Moore girls were fretting to see their Mammy was looking so unwell and bombarded their older sister with questions. Hannah was doing her best to console them, but was feeling over whelmed by it all.

Maura O' Driscoll suddenly bustled into the kitchen with her two Jack Russell terriers excitedly scampering about her feet. She clicked her tongue and the dogs sat obediently by her feet. With the girls wailing and Hannah trying to console them nobody noticed her standing there.

"Hello childer" she called out cheerily so as to be heard above the ruckus. Hannah turned around, he eyes wide with surprised to see her mother's friend standing there. "Come on in Maura" Hannah said looking embarrassed at her inability to provide the kind of parental control she thought would be so easy to manage. Her younger sisters stopped fretting momentarily when they saw the unexpected visitor and Maura smiled warmly at them all. "I just thought I'd come by to ask you all to join me at the tea house for some fresh cakes and sweet tea.

"And you too young lady," she said with a wink to Hannah "it'll be great to have a little chat". While the girls cried out excitedly, Hannah declined gratefully. How could she possibly go off for tea and cakes now?

"The baby is not well, and neither is mammy. I'm really needed here, but, thank-you."

The midwife appeared in the doorway looking worn from fatigue. When she caught sight of Maura, it brought a feeble smile to her face. "Hello Mrs. O' Driscoll, nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too Milly."

A prolonged silence followed and lingered for a long moment finally Maura spoke "You wouldn't mind if I just went to see Eileen and the baby?"

The midwife looked from Maura to Hannah and said in a tone of hope "Not at all, Mrs. O' Driscoll, I'm sure Eileen will be delighted to see you. Maybe you'll even coax her to just hold the baby."

Maura nodded her understanding then walked out of the kitchen.

"Come sit down Milly" Hannah said kindly, "have a cup of tea."

The younger girls went to complain about wanting to eat cakes at the tea house, but Hannah told them to play outside while Maura was with Eileen.

A short while later, Maura reappeared in the doorway and without preamble explained her plan.

"Hannah, your Mother needs a doctor to see her right away. Also, that baby is not doing well at all, and it will be a miracle if he'll even get a sound out of her. Now, we must get going to the village immediately and call to the doctor's – you too Babby. He'll be out here in no time. Milly will be staying with your mother, while we're gone. So go get the girls, we'll bring them for those cakes afterwards. Go now child".

In the center of the village square right next to the chemist's was The General Shop and Tea House. For years, Peader O' Driscoll had been providing everything from flour to textiles to the people of Kilrush, while in the adjoining Tea Shop, his wife Maura served teas and a small assortment of delicious sweet breads. Being a very discreet individual, many confided their troubles and secrets to her, but she kept all this information to herself; gossip and rumors were prevalent maladies amongst some villagers and wagging tongues were known to do more damage to a person than any knife or rifle. However she possessed a keen sense of judgment and knew that in some exceptional cases, intervention was needed. Fear for Eileen and her newborn quickened her paces up the steps to the doctor's house.

The impeccably white hand embroidered tablecloths was the second thing everyone noticed the moment they entered Maura's cozy Tea House, the first was the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked bread emanating from the oven behind a short pine counter. In the small, but bright room eight tables with four blue wooden chairs were divided into two sections, four to the left and four to the right. The short space in the center gave people entering room to choose and maneuver to their seats. Hannah, Babby and the girls were chattering happily in anticipation of the treats ahead when Maura lifted a section of the pine counter and brought Hannah, Babby and the girls to a private room at the back.

Mary, a local lady spoke to them cheerily as they passed "I will have the teas and scones over to you now in just a moment girls".

They stood inside a seldom used living room in the O' Driscoll's house; like many Irish families, the kitchen was where most people congregated, but there was always one place apart, kept solely for visitors. Here, a wide, beige couch with two matching armchairs faced a large stone fireplace, which was framed with a heavily decorated mantel piece. Behind the couch and against the wall, an elaborately carved rosewood dresser full of rarely used fine bone china stood as a testimonial to the vigilant care given by generations of O'Driscoll women.

"It always feels so stuffy in here" Maura said bustling towards the window.

Hannah agreed but said nothing; all of these unused rooms had their own specific odour, as many elements in the environment blended to produce a unique, but not unpleasant smell.

"Now, let's get you seated down here" Maura said ushering them all onto the couch. "Hannah, you look exhausted".

"I'm not exhausted" she lied "I'm fine. I just need to get some things done at home that's all".

"It's too much for you" Babby piped up with more courage than she felt.

Maura pursed her lips as she gazed fondly down at Hannah "of course, you may be right Babby. But Hannah here is determined, and we cannot change that. So why not just rest a little Miss Moore, it will do you good."

She nodded, but was unable to feel at ease while Eileen's condition remained unknown. Would her mother get back to being normal at all? What if she never recovered? While a multitude of worries passed through her young mind, Maura had already poured a small glass of sherry "here you go Hannah, you need one of these."

"No thank you" Hannah declined "I'll be fine".

"Do you know what shock is?" She asked gently.

"No" Hannah replied her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"When an accident or something very sad happens, you're body and mind seems to go all haywire and you need care to get it right again. That's what Eileen has, only very strong. And one of the best things for shock is a good stiff drink and plenty of rest. Now, your shock isn't the same as Eileen's but it's there all the same and you need care too...." Hannah immediately interrupted Maura saying she didn't need any care and was able to take care of everyone.

"I know you want to look after your family" Maura said reassuringly "but to do that you need to feel strong. So, why don't you let me get you a good strong cup of tea and a bite to eat; it will do you good." When Hannah conceded Maura bustled out of the room and called to Mary to boil some water.

By the time both women came back with trays full of tea and sandwiches, Hannah had fallen asleep on the couch. Maura gave a warm smile as she placed the tray on a low table beside them placed a cushion under her head and a large throw over her to keep her warm.

"Why don't we head into the kitchen" she said to Babby and the girls, and they left Hannah to her dreams.

Three hours later a much rested Hannah and satiated Babby made their way home from Maura's tea shop. The younger girls were playing with the new Jack Russell puppies in the back yard and didn't want to leave, so Maura told them they could stay and Peader would bring them home later on. At first Hannah didn't want to, but Maura said to leave them alone, sure weren't they happy.

*

There is a wonderful, albeit imposing 18th century manor in Kilrush, which is situated at the end of the narrow main street running through the village. Referred to locally as the Big House, this once happy home has become a symbol of the very dark depths to which humanity can fall.

Two years earlier, the proprietor of this house, a well-established businessman and his young family were murdered by a contingent of Black and Tans who had just been transferred from Dublin. They took over the Big House, as was the usual operation since the Tan Lt. Col. Smyth (or RIC division commander) announced on June 17th 1920 in his speech to his constables. He stated "....If a police barracks is burned or if the barracks already occupied is not suitable, then the best house in the locality is to be commandeered, the occupants thrown into the gutter. Let them die there - the more the merrier. Police and military will patrol the country at least five nights a week. They are not to confine themselves to the main roads, but make across the country, lie in ambush and, when civilians are seen approaching, shout "Hands up!" Should the order be not immediately obeyed, shoot and shoot with effect. If the persons approaching carry their hands in their pockets, or are in any way suspicious-looking, shoot them down. You may make mistakes occasionally and innocent persons may be shot, but that cannot be helped, and you are bound to get the right parties some time. The more you shoot, the better I will like you, and I assure you no policeman will get into trouble for shooting any man ..."

Soon afterwards, metal bars were placed on all the windows of the Big House; many of the once majestic rooms were stripped unrecognizably and partitioned into small bare cells for interrogation and internment purposes only; occupants were quickly found for these cells, few of which ever walked away from the Big House. For those who did, their experience left them as a shell of their former selves. The leader of the unit responsible for the unethical behaviour is a ruthless individual named Hart; his comportment was such that he earned the name of Black Hart from the local people.

Hannah and her friend Babby Murphy had been chatting somberly for over forty minutes on their way home from the Tea House when they were suddenly set upon by a lorry load of noisy, drunk Black and Tans; the marauders had been driving around from village to village terrorizing people in retaliation for the wounding of one of their men by suspected IRA members.

"Oiye luv" one young man called out from the back of the lorry "how 'bout you two Irish dogs show us what's under them dresses." This brought about hearty laughter and more comments from the dozen or so other Tans who gleefully clinked their whiskey jars in unison.

The girls ignored the cruel insults and inappropriate taunting from the Tans in the hope that they would go away, but the invaders were unrelenting in their effort to frighten them. One particularly inebriated man eyed Babby lasciviously and moaned pleasurably before undoing the belt of his pants. Loud whooping noises of encouragement from his comrades revealed a collective and dangerous lust was building along with an escalation in the viciousness of their comments. Fearing for their lives, Hannah glanced at Babby who mumbled in Irish to make a run for it. Then, before the Tans could react, the girls scrambled over the low stone wall bordering the field and sprinted hard to get away. Several shots were fired towards them but the bullets ended up embedded in the damp grass as the Tans were too drunk or excited to shoot straight. They decided to follow the girls on foot – this was their prey – a hunt had just begun.

As the wind whipped past them, tears fell down their reddened cheeks; Hannah's world as she knew it was dissolving into a darkness she felt would never dissipate again. The approaching Tans resembled a pack of ravenous wolves ready to devour innocent quarry.

Hannah and Babby, breathless and exhausted, continued on through several more fields as they tried to reach the safety of Mulchair's farm – a sure-fire place to be safe - the Tans wouldn't have a hope against the Mulchair men. With the small whitewashed cottage finally in sight the girls gave it their all for the last stretch. Almost at the point of collapse, they made their way into the muddy cobblestone yard, past the conifers and up to the farmhouse door. Their lungs gasped for air as they pounded heavily trying desperately to shout out for help, but to their profound dismay their cries went unheard – nobody came to their aid.

They couldn't know it at the time, but nobody responded because the entire family had left to help out in the village where the attack of the Tans had spread. With no one to help them the girls felt the weight of death hang over them. They continued hollering out loudly for someone to come and help them, but the only ones who turned up were The Black and Tans. Babby and Hannah hugged each other tightly crying inconsolably as the wolves circled hungrily around them. Pulled apart from the grip they had on each other Babby was taken at gun point and dragged on the ground behind the house, while Hannah was knocked unconscious, hauled up into the back of the lorry which had just pulled up beside them, and taken away.

Babby ended up in the barn behind the house where she was tortured, violated and kept confined with the decomposing bodies of other farm laborers who had been dumped out of the Tan lorry. Whatever had happened Matt Mulchair and his sons seemed to have once more managed to escape the Tans, but this was bad news for Babby. When the Tans were done with her, she too was left to decompose along with the other callously discarded corpses. Time became immeasurable as Babby entered in and out of consciousness; during her waking moments she wished for death to take her as it had for those strewn by her side. The putrid smell of rotten flesh was unbearable, but who could bury these victims, she thought when nobody knew they were here. Confined to one spot, Babby faced the body of one young boy, barely a man, who stared back at her through wide open eyes that still held the shock of impending death. He surely had loved ones anguishing over his disappearance, who longed to hear he had been found – God help them when they would see him. While unconscious there was no pain, no horrors, no suffering, and it was here that Babby dreamed of being rescued - she wanted to live. So when the voice of Matt Mulchair barking orders at his sons to saddle up his horse jolted her awake, she thought this was yet another dream. Except this time the young boy no longer stared back at her instead a very worried looking Matt Mulchair told her to hold on 'til the priest got to pray over her one last time.

*

Hannah woke up on the floor of a dimly lit cell and found the sneering face of a small, mustached man standing over her. Her entire body felt it had been mangled. She looked around to get her bearings, but couldn't make out where she was – a prison of some kind. The walls were mixed with stains of dried blood, roughly engraved dates, and what looked like a poem. A rotten, indiscernible stench filled her nostrils and a deathly cold seeped into her bones adding to the lugubriousness of the place.

She went to get up, but the man moved in closer and briefly pressed his large boot heavily on to her head causing her to retch with the pain. As his cackling laugh echoed around the room, Hannah touched the sore area at the back of her head and felt a warm moistness around a large lump; the subsequent blood on her hand told her how she had been rendered unconscious, but she didn't know for how long she had been out.

The last thing she remembered was going to the village with Maura and Babby, but something had happened after that, and she wasn't sure what it was; her mind felt too foggy. Looking up at the man who stood over her then to her blood stained fingers, Hannah suddenly gasped as she remembered Babby being led away at Mulchair's farm. Tears welled in her eyes as her mind raced with so many questions; was Babby okay? Had she been hurt? Was she dead? Or was she here in the same prison?

Hannah closed her eyes in despair; in only a matter of hours an already difficult day of mourning had turned into a hellish nightmare the likes of which she could never have imagined. The sight of her friend being captured pierced her heart - an innocent woman taken down by predators; in those last moments neither Hannah nor Babby had screamed for help...there was no point, it was not going to come. Hannah thought of her mother and wondered how she was coping alone – did she know where Hannah was? She wondered if her mother would understand how fast she ran trying to escape... how she had run until her lungs burned from exhaustion and her legs buckled with the strain of keeping up an insane pace. Turning on her side, Hannah silently mouthed to her mother that she was sorry she had failed her; she had tried her best to escape...she really had tried her best.

A sudden wailing roar made her jump with fright; a man's voice coming from a room further away roared out something in Irish....Eire's freedom will come......was all she had caught before the sound of a shot rang out leaving nothing but an eerie, hollow silence.

Moments later the mustached spoke "the guvnur will want to see you now" he said in a thick British accent. "Wait 'ere 'til I get back" he laughed with a toothless grin. Then he leaned in again on her head before heading out the door and locking it.

Covering her oozing wound, Hannah got up unsteadily, made her way to the slither of a window that allowed a small bit of light to enter the room and placed her head against the cold metal bars. Gazing at the familiar scene below on the narrow street, a deep shiver ran down her spine that had nothing to with the cold and damp of the room but everything to do with the realization that she was being held in the Big House.

Everyone knew that very few prisoners walked away from this place alive. Psychological damage caused by torture, solitary confinement, and other forms of deprivation rendered those few survivors incapable of functioning in society. Hannah thought about Barney Grimes, a lad only a few years older than herself; he was one of the first captured and imprisoned in the Big House; after his release – three months later- he was unrecognizable. The strapping handsome farmer that he was had long gone replaced with a thin, shabby man whose wide brown eyes were like two holes into a horrible abyss. His days were spent roaming incessantly about the village, unkempt and muttering incoherently to himself; like a walking corpse, beyond any kind of help.

Hannah swallowed hard as she tried to cope with the fact that she might end up like Barney, or that she was about to die very soon. The only light she could see in this terrible situation was at least she and her father would be together at the end of this nightmare.

The door of the cell suddenly flung open and Hannah spun around to see a blonde, broad shouldered man of medium height, a deep furrow and thin lips walk in long strides to the center of the cell.

"I see you have your bearings by now" he said in an accent similar to the man who had hurt her head. She said nothing, but stepped away from the window, her eyes observing the soldier as he stood ramrod straight in intimidating silence. Hannah got the impression he got immense pleasure in frightening already scared prisoners....it was definitely working on her, she was trembling inside, but trying her best not to show it.

A moment later, the large booted man returned carrying a chair which he placed directly behind his superior, "Captain Hart" he said with a sharp salute then left them alone. Once seated the captain pointed to Hannah and barked "come here".

Reluctantly she approached him, but did not make eye contact.

"Sit" he commanded gruffly.

Knowing that there was no place to sit but the floor Hannah glared at the man and realized the process of torture had begun. To him she was nothing more than an animal - Irish scum that was easily disposed of, as her Father had been. Hannah's heart skipped a beat with fear, never had she felt so alone and so scared as she did that very moment; nobody could help her now.

"I said sit" he repeated with disdain "or do you wish to end up as your father – rotting in a field.

Hannah's shocked expression made him chuckle loudly for a moment. "Yes, it was my unit who successfully eliminated the man on the hill and captured the other female IRA fugitive two days ago; along with you."

"Fugitive?" she asked confused "we are not fugitives."

"You Are!" He said forcefully. "And don't bloody deny it!"

"We are not!" she reiterated. "Look" she said with a slight tremor in her voice, "my family did no wrong. You and your men have made a grave error.... the woman you captured is innocent."

"There's nothing innocent about the three of you" he said with disdain. "You blew up my truck and that makes you directly involved in the resistance to Her Majesty's government!"

Hannah was surprised he knew any of this, but was so afraid of what he could do to her, she decided to play dumb. "Who's government?"

Those words did not sit well with this man and he stood slowly gazing down furiously at her. "You are guilty – all three of you and we have substantial evidence about your activities to know that you are a threat to the Crown by which, elimination is the only way to stomp out the kind of uncivilized, barbaric behaviour you Irish continue to display."

"Barbaric!" she said incredulously "How can you say that? Sure we're not the ones going around the country murdering innocent men, women and children."

The rapid blow to her face made her fall hard to the floor. As she lay there in shocked silence, a powerful kick landed in her stomach and the impact made her retch violently. Her breathing became laboured and her chest stung terribly from the pain of trying to inhale air; it took a couple of minutes before she could breathe normally again and as she lay there in the fetal position, Hannah wondered how much time was left before he took out his revolver and killed her? Not much she guessed. A part of her just wanted to cry and stay on the ground, but a profound sense of defiance willed her to stand up and face this head on.

"Don't expect preferential treatment here" the soldier said forcing her roughly back down on the floor "male, female...you're all offered the same options in my Head Quarters; cooperate with us and you'll be free to go, resist, and you'll be executed."

"I'd say you execute more than you free" Hannah muttered.

The captain had not heard her and began questioning her "now, your Father" he stated matter of factly, "who was he involved with?"

Hannah thought about this for a moment then replied slowly "he was involved with the running of his farm."

"Answer me" he snapped.

"How would you expect me to know what my father was doing, or who he was involved with?"

"Don't take me for an idiot. I want to know what he was doing."

"Maybe you and your majesty should have thought about that before you had him shot."

The soldier grabbed her hair and violently pulled her head back "you just put a nail in your own coffin!" Then he reached down ripped her dress off her shoulders and sneered as she stood fearfully in her underwear. He started to unbutton his shirt "when I'm finished with you, I'm heading away to have fun with what's left of your family."

Terror gripped her heart pinching it like a tightened fist, Hannah thought frantically about how she could come up with something that would stave him off; she hoped that the girls were still safe with Maura. "Look" she said in what she hoped appeared to be resignation "My Father left us days before he was killed – never said where he was going and didn't come back – that's all I know."

The captain stopped undressing momentarily and eyed her coldly "was he with someone? Who would know where he would have gone to?"

"I didn't see anything; he left while we were asleep". Again he grabbed Hannah violently and banged her head against the wall. "Mess with me would you" he said through gritted teeth. As her head collided with the concrete, she momentarily caught the first few lines of the Gaelic poem she had spotted earlier, etched by some previous occupant who had time on his hands. She only had time to register the words

"Upon green fields young blood did lie gored to death by a raging bull" before her head was whacked once more off the stone wall.

Over a period of time that cannot be accurately established, Hannah paid dearly for not responding to the probing questions. Every time she replied that her father just disappeared one morning, the Captain continued the pummeling. Her concept of time became lost after falling unconscious several times; at one point through the fog in her mind, she saw Hart coming towards her and opening his trousers, before she realized what he was going to do, she lost consciousness again.

The next time she came to her whole body throbbed and the pain became unbearable. She lay on the floor in her own blood, vomit and urine waiting, hoping they would put a bullet in her and let her die, but that did not happen, instead a different kind of relief came.

When the large booted man entered the cell he gasped at the extent of her injuries; her bloodied body and badly bruised face made him look momentarily from his superior to the bleeding and barely breathing heap that lay in the corner of the cell; but he said nothing only leaned in to discreetly deliver a message.

Whatever was said, Hannah didn't hear, but both soldiers immediately left the room; this gave her a small respite from the torture and for that she was relieved.

Lucy closed the journal shut and looked sadly at Kevin. "I never knew that about her." She said swallowing hard. "I never knew the horror she had experienced back then. How could she have ever recovered from that?"

He took her hand and said "better to take a break okay? This journal wasn't hidden for nothing; it's hard psychologically, so we need to pace ourselves. We'll read the rest later, but for now let's get some fresh air".

A few minutes later Kevin and Lucy were strolling hand in hand along the tranquil river bank. A strong breeze blew around them, but it felt good to breathe in the cool fresh air, and take in the peaceful surroundings of lush vegetation that flanked the calm waters. Neither spoke for a long time; each just seemed content to be with the other.

Just that short walk had tired Kevin considerably; his weak body had begun to tremble slightly by the time they got back. "You should have told me earlier that you were feeling tired" Lucy admonished him gently.

"I'll be fine" he said breathlessly as he lay down on the bed. "I'll rest for ten minutes and I'll be grand again." He slept soundly for an hour during which time Lucy prepared them something to eat.

Once rested Kevin seemed much better and relished the supper of pasta with prosciutto in a creamy parmesan sauce with French baguette and a glass of light Italian wine. When they finished their meal Kevin filled their glasses for a second time then took her hand and led her to the couch. "It's so great having you here Luce; it's funny because I used to love coming here and being alone, and now I find I'd hate the place if you weren't here."

Lucy looked out the window and onto the calm grey waters of the Shannon River. Tiny droplets of rain had started to fall causing countless little ripples to form on the surface. The tranquility of the place was a remedy for any weary soul. "Being here has been a tonic for me; I can't deny that, and I know why you need this place so much...."

Kevin leaned over and kissed her soft lips "I know there's a "but" coming, so before you say anything let me just say that I really would love you to live here with me Luce."

Lucy bit the tip of her lip – she felt surprised that he would ask something so committing, and was confused about why he sprang this on her so suddenly. Kevin was a wonderful person, she had no doubts about that, but it didn't seem wise to live together when they hardly knew each other.

"Kevin, I can't really answer that right now; I mean we're together here at this moment and it's wonderful, but....... let's just see what happens. Okay?"

He smiled widely "okay....Miss Courtney...I understand long term is too much for you to consider at the moment. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable...that was not my intention. But will you at least stay until you've sold the house and found another place?"

Lucy felt relieved that he understood how she felt "no problem at all."

He moved in close to her and they kissed each other gently at first then more passionately. But as their hands began exploring each other, Lucy suddenly pulled away breathlessly "Kevin, we can't do this."

"What!" he said momentarily confused "why not? What's wrong?" He asked looking at her body as if something anatomically unexpected just happened.

"If a short walk wiped you out, making love will kill you!" She said closing her blouse.

Kevin groaned. "No! Really, I'll be fine, I promise."

She ignored the longing in his voice and said "I'd never forgive myself if you ended up back in the hospital. So let's just take things slowly. Okay?"

"This is more damaging than any relapse", he protested.

"I don't want to have to explain to your doctor that your relapse was due to sexual excitement."

He smiled lasciviously "I'll have no problem explaining that to him!"

She laughed heartily, then in an effort to regain an air of seriousness, she brushed her hair behind her ears and said "when you can walk without feeling completely wiped out then we can make love all we want, but until then.....we're keeping this platonic!"

"Lucy, this is killing me!"

"And me! I mean I have desires too.... but it's only for a little while."

With their yearning curtailed, but not quenched, they returned to reading Father Dempsey's journal. Kevin knew Lucy had been right; he didn't have the stamina for any kind of love making, but that would soon change - he was on a mission to get strong. He turned on the ultraviolet light while Lucy removed the marker they had used and opened the page they were at.

The persistent shouting coming from the street caught her attention. Severely dehydrated, beaten and badly injured, Hannah crawled to the window and hauled herself up with the help of the metal bars; she pressed her face to them in order to see the street below and the cold surface of the railings brought a wonderful cooling effect on her bruised face. However, pain quickly followed when the contact between metal and sensitive, inflamed tissue was made. Ignoring the agony she was in, she peered below onto the dimly lit street and immediately noticed several people holding blazing torches. They were calling out for something, but Hannah, whose ears were ringing loudly from being beaten, could not make out what was being said exactly. She strained to hear, but the sounds were too distorted for her to understand anything.

The cell door suddenly burst open and the soldier who had tortured her incessantly stormed across the room, grabbed her savagely and hauled her out by the hair of her head. She made a weak grab towards her dress, but he kicked it away and slapped her head hard. Once outside, she was lead down a dark corridor which lead to a landing which overlooked what was once a sumptuous marble hallway complete with a vast two sided marble staircase. Several heavily armed Tans waited below near the large double oak doors, their arms at the ready. They were looking intently at the soldier beside her, waiting for him to speak, or to holler out more orders.

Without a word, the Captain directed her onward to the top of the stairs then all of a sudden she felt his hands pressing hard on her back, she made a desperate grab for the banister, but her feet were already toppling over the first step. Unable to control anything, her whole body went crashing down the steps all the way to the bottom. Lying on the flat of her back, she looked up at the broken chandelier hanging in the middle of the ceiling then everything went black.

In the meantime, Father Dempsey had just finished writing for sermon on Sunday when he heard the shouting out on the street; rushing to the church door the sight before him was unforgettable - forever etched in his memory. Matt Mulchair and his sons, Peader O' Driscoll and several other local men congregated on the steps of the big house. They were holding a bound man between them - a Tan - and were shouting for Captain Hart or Black Hart, as he was known locally, to come out and see who they had. Peader O' Driscoll, the local shopkeeper seemed completely insane; he was pounding his fists into the prisoner at such a force that he had to be held back by the others and subdued. The man they called Jim, who appeared to be leading the men, placed a pistol against the Tan's head the moment Hart came to the door. He demanded the release of the Moore girl in exchange for their prisoner. The captive, who seemed relatively unharmed, was pleading with Hart to agree, but the Captain's reaction was to curse and spit towards him.

Jim gave another warning, a final one, and told Hart that if he didn't release the girl unharmed, the Tan's entrails would be fed to the pigs. Although the priest did not know Jim, he had no doubt he would act on his words. Hart looked at the fury of the local men and laughed at them. "You lot are nothing but unskilled peasants, far inferior than the might of Her Majesty's Forces".

Jim removed a large knife from inside his coat pocket raised it slightly towards Hart then placed it on the prisoner's abdomen who screamed for Hart to save him. The only thing that convinced Hart to comply was they had captured his military valet and he couldn't bear anyone else to attend to him, so as he closed the doors, he decided, by an almost imperceptible nod to the enemy that he would release the prisoner. Minutes later the big oak doors opened and Hart struggled to hold upright a limp child-like form in the doorway. "Take this scum away" he roared.

At that moment as the bound prisoner was cut free and began walking away from his captors towards the steps of the big house, Hart let go of the form and watched it fall in a heap to the floor, which he then proceeded to push onto the threshold. Nobody was sure what was going on until Hart called out that he was giving them their bitch back. But given the state she seemed to be in, the men were convinced the mass was a dead animal. Nobody reacted until Hart screamed at them to take her. With many guns covering him, Matt Mulchair went over and inspected the blood covered curled up shape and swore aloud. He turned towards his men and shook his head gravely. As he picked Hannah up in his arms, turned and ran towards the men, Jim fired his pistol at the legs of the newly freed Tan and brought him down before he entered the Big House.

Heavy gunfire between both sides erupted immediately; but Peader O' Driscoll augmented the violence considerably when he threw several grenades into the Big House. The Tans immediately stopped firing in order to escape the falling debris and flames that had erupted around them.

As the local men quickly dispersed, the priest signaled urgently to Matt to bring Hannah to the church; he responded immediately and rushed through the main entrance, following him quickly into the room beside the sacristy. Once laid on the couch, they stared in utter disbelief. She was in the most awful state imaginable; her face was swollen and bruised beyond recognition, her hair was a mixture of wet and dried blood, and what was left of her slender frame was a mass of bloodied cuts and severe bruising. She had many broken bones, but at least she was alive, for how long though, that remained to be seen. The doctor was sent for and she was kept warm until he arrived. When he first looked at her it was the only time he was heard swear. After sedating her heavily, shaving her scalp, cleansing and carefully stitching the four deep and bloody wounds scattered around her small skull, he began to cut away her dirtied and bloodied undergarments. Father Dempsey retired to the chapel to pray until the physician joined him a while later and asked for the last rites to be performed. There was little hope of her pulling through. He explained that Hannah had been beaten to a point that even if she did recover, she would probably never be the same again.

Well, it took some time but Hannah did survive; the doctor was right though, she was scarred for life, but it was not her experience at the Big House that was the sole cause. When she woke up, even though she was confused and very groggy, her immediate question was about Babby's well-being. The first thing she was told was that her friend had been hospitalized, and would recover, eventually. However Hannah's sisters, her mother and Maura O' Driscoll had been shot and killed in their house on the day Noel was buried – the baby had died shortly after they had left with Maura to go to the tea house.

Hannah gaped incredulously, and was, understandably so, at a complete loss for words. Nothing could be spoken that would undo the pain. Her body contorted in the fetal position, her hands covered her face and it was as if she would never breathe again. Both men waited beside her in silence until she resurfaced from the shock. When she eventually turned and looked at them, it was from that exact moment on that Hannah Moore was no longer the same person; torture and loss had changed her forever.

"Who killed them?" she croaked weakly.

Their hesitation in answering told her it was Hart.

For the remainder of her recovery she was confined to the hard narrow makeshift bed installed in a tiny room off the sacristy. The women of the village would come and tend to her needs as she slowly crawled back from the brink of death. As soon as she was strong enough to dress and bathe herself she decided - against our wishes – to go back home; we, the doctor and myself, knew this was a bad idea, but she would not listen to reason. There was a terrible new coldness to Hannah that the priest had never seen in another person before, or since.

The day came when she returned to the place where her loss had been greatest - home. The meadow had been cut in her absence by the community, and hay had been made for the cows. The doctor informed her that Matt Mulchair had cleaned out his barn and farmyard and was sheltering the livestock until an alternative outcome was reached. But Hannah barely acknowledged this news, although for those who knew Mulchair it was a truly memorable act of kindness –one that even got a mention during mass on Sunday. There was something brewing inside Hannah, something that consumed her but yet none could see what it was until much later.

At first glance, the bucolic farm seemed like any other family farm of that agronomic region with its cultivated fields and modest thatched cottages with immaculate whitewashed walls. However, standing for just a moment at the tall hedge near the entrance revealed an inertia and unnatural silence that would not be seen even on a lazy Sunday afternoon. No cows lowed in the fields; nobody worked the land or tended to the daily chores of running a house which created a deathly eeriness to the place that could never be exorcized. Her mother, father and sisters had all been slaughtered mercilessly like innocent lambs sacrificed in a nonsensical war for land and ownership that few will remember or even want to remember in forty years' time.

The tall dome shaped piles of yellow grass emitted a sweet summer smell that flooded Hannah's mind with memories of playing Hide-and-go-seek with her sisters; it was a game they would always play as soon as the last cock of hay was made and the workers all went to the house for tea and bread.

As she entered through the back door that gave onto the kitchen, she saw the exact spot where her mother, her sisters and Maura had been killed; their bodies had long since been removed and buried, but the bullet holes in the walls were testimony to the terror of their final moments in life. Most of the blood that had escaped their bodies had been cleaned away- probably by those who made the hay - but some had seeped into the wooden floor making an irremovable imprint of death. Hannah shook her head in dismay feeling like she had been cursed to a hell in this life not the next. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she pressed her finger tips to her lips then touched the stained floor as a final goodbye to her family and friend.

After quickly rummaging through the house she gathered up the one item considered precious – her mother's pendant. It had been in the family for generations and although she would not receive it in the ceremonial rite as the previous bearers did, she would re-enact the tradition on her eighteenth birthday as her mother had described and would wear it proudly. Then closing the back door behind her, Hannah went to the shed took what she needed and without a moment's hesitation burned the house to the ground.

Whatever about purging her ghosts through a fiery cleansing process, those who had cared for her became terribly concerned when she went to stay with Matt Mulchair. He took her in for a couple of weeks and taught her to shoot accurately, fight to kill and survive on whatever nature provided. During her time there she received several cordial visits from Father Dempsey and the doctor. While her demeanor was always polite, it was undeniably clear that she tolerated their presence only through some sentiment of gratitude for having saved her life. In truth, they were obstructing her in the execution of a murderous plan. By the time she walked away from that nebulous farm, Matt had readily provided her with two things - weapons and Jim's whereabouts.

To look at Hannah as she passed on her bicycle nobody could see the darkness simmering in her heart. She was heavily armed and carried weapons which were discreetly hidden on her person and in the basket strapped to the handlebars. Her mission was a simple one; to eliminate the man responsible for murdering her family – no matter how long it took, Hart would die by Hannah's hand. However, before she began waging her own personal war with Black Hart and his unit at the Big House, or any Tan for that matter, she made her way to her friend's house.

Babby's mother was halfway up a ladder picking damsons from one of the six trees that lined the entrance to their small farm, but only a pair of legs from the knees down were visible. While still a relatively young woman, her swollen ankles were an immediate distinguishing feature. Hannah looked at the large metal tub on the ground beside the ladder noticing it was almost full with the morning's pickings. The jam from the bluish oval fruit was delicious. Eileen used to make the most mouth-watering damson tarts, which were a special Sunday treat when the fruit was in season.

When Hannah called out the woman peered out from in under the branches and gave a very surprised, yet wary look when she saw who had stopped by.

"I know why you're here" she said crossly, while quickly descending the ladder and taking her basket of fruit. "But you are wasting your time, Babby's not here." She seemed to guess what Hannah would ask next. "And don't think she'll be back anytime soon either. She's gone away for a long time."

"Where?" Hannah asked perplexed.

The question made the woman's face contort with anger "Gone! That child is gone! Ruined for life she is!!! And it's all your doing!"

Hannah did not understand the reaction, she had done all she could to escape - everything "We were both captured, I couldn't........."

The woman was almost spitting with rage. "She shouldn't even have been with you in the first place. You should have sent her home straight after the funeral. But, no you didn't and she got attacked and it's all YOUR FAULT!!!!!!!!!" The screams brought her husband running to her aid; when he saw Hannah standing there he said a quick, almost apologetic hello then quickly ushered his wife inside the house.

Hannah was unable to move; her system had momentarily taken a blow. How could she be blamed for Babby being attacked? How, after all she had been through, could they think the attack was her fault? Did they not know that they almost collapsed trying to outrun the Tans?

Just then Babby's father came back out, but Hannah had no wish to stay any longer and turned away towards the road. When he called gently to her and apologized for his wife's reaction, Hannah stopped then backtracked. He explained how fragile his wife had become since the attack, then went on to explain the horrors Babby went through - everything from the moment the girls had been separated up until now. Overall, she had recovered physically, but not emotionally. Her mind was deteriorating rapidly and they had been advised to send her to a clinic in Ennis to get proper care that would help her cope. There were strict instructions left that she have no visitors for a while.

"That must be hard on Babby" Hannah said "not seeing her family."

"Aye" he answered grimly "but if it helps her, then t'was for the best."

Hannah noticed something "you don't think she should be there – do you?"

That was where their conversation about Babby ended. "I made sure your mother and the young girls were buried beside their father in the family plot; there were some people who thought the house was cursed and wouldn't go into it, but others in the community helped me and saw to that kind of stuff.

Hannah nodded a firm thanks but was unable to talk about their burial. She had not yet managed to visit their graves and quickly steered the conversation back to Babby. "Do you think I could go and see her in Ennis sometime?" she asked.

He nodded his head smiling "I'm sure there would be no harm in that at all. It would do her good to see a familiar face, but don't mention it to a soul."

With that Hannah headed away to meet the man who called himself, Jim.

*

Night had fallen hours earlier when Hannah finally reached the spot Matt Mulchair had told her Jim could be found. It seemed an unlikely meeting place – an abandoned dairy barn, but if it served her purpose, she wouldn't have cared if the place was a graveyard. Fear was nothing to someone who had nothing to lose.

On entering the stone shed, gun at the ready, she looked around carefully. The rusted galvanized roof had huge gaping holes and the floor was wet from the last shower of rain; the walls had succumbed to an excrescence of creeping ivy and a distinct musty smell filled the air. After checking each walled milking section she was satisfied that nobody was lurking around and allowed herself to sit down on a crooked milking stool to wait.

With the grasshoppers chirping and the owls hooting, Hannah remained alert waiting to hear footsteps advancing across the cobblestone yard. About an hour later someone did turn up, but it wasn't Jim; the person he sent to meet Hannah was Pa Doohan, and by the astounded expression on each of their faces, neither had been expecting to encounter the other.

"What in God's name has you involved with Jim?" Pa asked Hannah after the initial shock of seeing her had passed. "You're the last person I would have imagined involved with the Resistance."

"Me?" Hannah replied indignantly "what about you? I mean I thought you were studying in Trinity College for God's sake!!!"

He paused for a moment as if to catch his breath "I am" he replied in a slightly lower tone that reflected his return to a calmer state. "But you know how it is, studying is strictly forbidden during the summer" he said by way of friendly sarcasm. "They throw you out until September, although if I had my way, I would leave the place altogether."

"Why?"

""Arra my father has grand notions of me becoming a solicitor or a teacher, but I have no gra for them kind of things at all."

"So what do you want to do?"

"My uncle is a butcher, and the few times I've worked with him have been just great. So, if my father gave me the freedom to choose, that's what I'd do."

"So why don't you tell him?"

"He's not the kind of man you disobey."

"But it's your future, not his!"

"Maybe someday I'll find the courage to stand up to him."

"Better sooner than later, Pa."

"And you" he asked by way of diverting the attention from himself. "What's a gentle lass like yourself doing here in the middle of the night – and armed with a weapon no less!! Is that what being mixed up with Jim has done to you?"

She frowned slightly "well, I have my reasons. Jim didn't tell you?"

Pa scoffed "sure Jim wouldn't tell his right hand what his left hand was doing. He's the darkest horse I've ever come across in a day's walk. Jim only tells you the strict minimum. That way, if the Tans catch ya, you can't tell what you don't know."

Hannah studied Pa's face and found him ill-suited to these kinds of nocturnal encounters. There was a nervous energy about him which suggested he would prefer to be elsewhere. So why was he here? Why risk so much? He did not seem to have any drive, passion or reason to be involved in Sinn Fein. He had not lost any family to the Tans, nor was he ever abducted; if it was patriotism that fueled his actions then nothing escaped his lips that would unmask his political penchant, so why venture into this fight? She was about to question to him in that direction when he began to speak.

"Well time hasn't been kind to ye that's for sure." Pa's ability for open and direct honesty had not changed "you're as pale as the moon itself and as skinny as a scallion; in fact I've seen more meat on a butcher's pencil!!"

Hannah just rolled her eyes while putting away her gun. "Right Pa, let's get going before I decide to leave you here".

Pa looked at her with the same expression of kindness and sympathy she had seen in the doctor, Fr. Dempsey and all the women who helped her get back on her feet again. To them she was a lost child to be pitied more than anything else. Only Matt Mulchair would look at her and recognize what she was now –not a lone dispossessed child in need of guardianship, but someone whose soul had darkened from the brutality of Black Hart. Her time at Matt's house had been a blessing – a respite from those who wanted to protect and insulate her. He had treated her as he did his own boys, gruffly but with genuine kindness. She would be forever in his debt and that was a debt she intended to repay someday.

They left the musty smelling dairy barn and walked in a north westerly direction across two large dew covered fields until they suddenly came to a tiny cottage whose faint light could not be seen in the distance owing to the tall bushes that grew up around its perimeter. Pa gave a soft rhythmic knock on the low wooden door, then after waiting a moment gave a slightly different knock and turned to Hannah. "Jim's code- knock for the week" Pa whispered as a way of explanation "honestly, I think he should be a baramdh player with the rhythms we have to learn before being allowed inside".

When the door was unlocked for them they entered into a tiny two roomed house that was brightly lit with many glowing candles.

Judging from the makeshift beds on the floor, it seemed to also serve as sleeping quarters. A small fireplace glowed with several sods of turf burning in the hearth and the most wonderful aroma of food hit Hannah's nose. Immediately her mouth was watering; she eyed the pot on a miniature stove in the corner and swallowed hard. They had food! Hannah had not eaten for at least a day, and was starving.

A man with round spectacles, black hair neatly parted to the side and wearing what looked like his Sunday best, rose from his chair, placed his book on the reading table beside him and greeted Hannah warmly.

"So, you're the menacing child Jim sent us to pick-up. His accent seemed like a mix between Irish and English and the latter made her feel an immediate distrust towards him. She also felt slightly indignant about him referring to her as a child – even if he did say it kindly.

Pa introduced them as he ushered her towards the stove "Hannah this is Barty. He's not what you think he is."

Unsure of this whole situation, she decided to be as quiet as possible until things became clearer. Still, as she looked at Pa the Trinity College student, and the fancy dressed Barty, she wondered what part they played in the Resistance; neither looked as if they could be at ease with a gun, unlike the Mulchairs who seemed to have been born bearing weapons.

"So young lady, is Hannah your real name? Or are you like Jim – prone to aliases?"

Hannah didn't know what that last word meant, so she decided to simply answer the first part of his question. "My name is Hannah Moore."

He shook hands with her and said, "Welcome Hannah Moore. Later on you must tell me how you came to know Pa." She found it strange the way he pronounced Pa, it sounded much more like Paw.

"Now don't take any notice of that accent of his," Pa said "that fella's from the arse end of Kerry, but you'd think he just stepped out of England's Oxford University."

Barty threw his hand up in dismay, "ridiculous! The poor fellow is delusional, and makes these ridiculous claims for which I am seriously beginning to doubt his health of mind."

Pa rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows "delusional me arse! Ya auld gobshite ya!!!!" With a wink at Hannah, Pa placed a large bowl of the delicious smelling stew in front of her, complete with an oversized spoon. "Barty's done the cooking tonight. This is his favourite meal – Kerry stew; it's his mother's recipe!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Barty said returning to his seat and picking up his book.

As the hot food took effect, Hannah asked through mouthfuls "so what do you two do here, exactly?" Neither got a chance to respond because all of a sudden Jim was standing in the room. Everyone looked up in surprise as nobody had heard him even open the door. He was dressed the same as the morning of her father's funeral, but the bruises and swelling on his face were gone. "No information passes between any of you that I haven't authorized" he said curtly. "You do not go around giving information away unless ordered to do so. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!" The men answered simultaneously.

Jim turned to Hannah and said "this applies to you too."

"I don't have any information" Hannah stated in a matter of fact way.

"You always have information whether you realize it or not. You know things that others could use against you, so don't ever forget that. But we'll cover that tomorrow, for now, eat up and get some rest. This will be your home for the next two months. During that time you will learn to help us in ways that requires no weapons of any kind, only this" he motioned to the side of his temple. "If you learn quickly we can get you to do various tasks, but for the moment, we'll start you out slow just to see where your strength and weaknesses lie. Because your work will not require that you be armed, you can remove whatever weapons are hidden in your underskirts...and your basket."

Hannah's mouth gaped open; she never thought anyone would notice she was armed. He smiled briefly "and learn not to show your reaction so easily. I could have been only guessing about the guns, but I wasn't."

*

The next couple of months were all about learning to gather information on the Tans, or people in the community who were not against the enemy's presence. For the most part, the training was theoretic with some role playing. But then she began little missions involving passing messages on to what she could only deem were other members of the Volunteers. Jim did not spend much time at the cottage; in fact he was often gone, as were Barty and Pa. Although she rarely had company in the tiny house, Hannah appreciated the solitude. The nightmares were consistently there every time she closed her eyes. In one way she was grateful she was unconscious during the torture, but in her mind the pain she had felt seemed to never go away. At least in solitude, she could cry without anyone judging her, but at times she wondered if maybe it would have been better to have someone to share the ordeal with. During the day, her world felt different, she was glad to read the books Barty had left behind and found wonder in the different writing styles of each author. Her favorite being 'A Room with a View'.

Outside this realm of tranquility the Tans systematic burning and terrorizing of local business owners and farmers had tensions rising to fever pitch. The Tans were constantly harassing the people of the village by stopping and searching them. Everyone complied because they would have been shot on the spot for resisting. Things became so bad the Volunteers implemented a curfew in order to protect the people from the often drunk Auxiliaries who thought nothing of killing, beating or pillaging people during their inebriation. There was a sense of hopelessness about the situation that had many locals believing their future would be a Tan occupied hell.

When Hannah wasn't busy at the cottage, or on an errand, she began to carefully observe the comings and goings of the Big House. From a nearby hilltop she meticulously documented everything, noting how many lorries came in and out, how many troops resided in the house, and most of all the regular activities of Black Hart himself. There were many stories circulating of how Volunteers were known to be ardent note takers, and when captured, this proof became a death sentence for them. So while Hannah noted her observations, she made sure to keep them in code form and disguised as a variety of recipes. Black Hart was described as the ingredient sour milk, which was often used in the simple food of the country cuisine. The lorries were salt, the troops flour and many of their comings and goings was written as measures, preparation and cooking time. Close scrutiny of these recipes would probably incite unwarranted interest, but Hannah hoped that nobody would ever look that closely.

Now while all her recipes were informative they were not useful. There was nothing solid that she could use to weaken the Tan presence in the area. She needed more information, inside information but she had no idea how she would obtain it? More observing provided the answer.

Late one night as she was about to leave after a day of observing, Hannah noticed two women coming from a side entrance of the house. She had not seen them go in and had no idea who they were. Curious, she decided to investigate. Descending the small hill where she spent most of her time observing, she hid beside some bushes waiting for the women to pass. They said nothing of significance as they passed, so she followed along as far as possible hoping to hear something. Then as she reached the limit of how far she could follow, one of them said "he wants the same meal tomorrow night. I felt like saying 'tis a pity about you, but he'd have killed me on the spot if I did that!"

They were cooks! For Black Hart? Local women were cooking for that bastard? Unbelievable! At first she felt like running after them and protesting what they were doing, but then an idea came to her that prove to be far more beneficial.

The next few weeks were spent observing the cooks. Where they lived, how often they went to the Big House, how they got in undetected, and why nobody knew what they were doing. When she had all that she needed, she took the next step of using the information to her advantage.

An anonymous letter was sent to each of the women which stated that it had become known to certain people in the vicinity that they were aiding the enemy. Such acts would put them in a very dangerous situation, unless they were willing to help their fellow countrymen and thereby guarantee they would come to no harm. Hannah had demanded they leave a sign of their accord in the form of a headscarf tied to the gates of their respective houses. When she saw that they were both willing to cooperate, she sent them instructions on what to look for and how they were to report it.

In the meantime Hannah went to see Father Dempsey and told him what she needed. Of course he was not in the least bit happy but still he couldn't refuse her. So every two days, one of the women would go to the chapel, step inside the confessional and give a full account of what they saw and heard inside the Big House to the faceless stranger on the other side. Once they were finished, they would leave quietly having no idea that it was Hannah orchestrating the whole operation.

By the time Barty, Pa and Jim returned to the cottage, Hannah had accumulated a considerable amount of information detailing the daily activities of the occupants at the Big House. She kept this information hidden in the floorboards under the mattress where she slept. This was not something she wanted to share with anyone because this was nobody's business but her own. Essentially this was between herself and Black Hart, although he didn't know there was a woman out there just waiting to see him die. For now, it was convenient for her to help the Volunteers; it was actually working out quite well, but soon she planned to break away and complete her own mission. Until then she would keep writing her recipes.

When everyone had finished eating Jim with his usual grave expression looked to the three of them and said "we have a problem." Everyone sat in silence waiting for him to elaborate, when he didn't Barty said "are you going to tell us what the problem is?"

He handed Hannah a folded piece of paper and told her to look over it carefully then to pass it on for the others to read. "What is this?" she asked opening it up, but he didn't answer immediately. What she saw was a hand written list of people's names, several of whom she recognized as people living in the village; Matt Mulchair, his two sons, Peader O' Driscoll, and other names – entire families, even the very young. Then the last entry at the very bottom was her own name. Not understanding the significance of the list, she passed the paper on to Pa while Jim continued to sip his mug of hot tea.

"Well" Jim said calmly "do any of you want to guess what this is?"

Pa looked to Barty who shrugged his shoulders and said "I'd say that's a Tan wish list!"

"What?" Hannah asked confused. "What's a wish list?"

It was Jim who spoke next. "This, Hannah" he said tapping his index finger onto the paper, is an execution list which was found on a Tan we intercepted in another village. But this Tan is actually stationed in our village here, which means that this is Hart's list; he's planning a wave of executions and you're one of the targets!"

Hannah said nothing for a moment then turned towards Jim, "when are these murders supposed to take place?"

He seemed bothered by the question and tapped his fingers on the table turned his head away momentarily then quickly lit a cigarette. A bluish grey smoke swilled from his nostrils while his lips formed an O shaped chimney from which more smoke furled. Jim sighed. "We were unable to acquire any more information which would pinpoint an exact date. However, we believe he's going to strike soon and I wouldn't be surprised if this happened unexpectedly, like on an early Sunday Morning - to mimic the tactics of Collins' bloody Sunday attack. Hart has a huge ego and he's looking for status.

While Pa and Barty discussed the list, Hannah thought about Black Hart and how his continued torture and killings were allowed to go unpunished by the British government. They probably weren't even aware of what he was doing. Or maybe they were, but didn't care because he was doing what he could to settle the problem of the troublesome Irish. Well whatever way the British viewed the actions of Hart, heroic or otherwise, it didn't take from the fact that he was slaughtering innocent men, women and children: entire families! He would continue eliminating people without remorse just as he had done with her family. Images passed through her mind, happy memories of Eileen and Noel working in the fields, with their girls playing around them. They had always been a close-knit family content with what they had, no matter how modest it was. Gosh, she missed them all so much, from their laughter to their love. A tight lump was forming in her throat and she coughed to prevent herself from bursting into tears. After gulping down some tea, she blew her nose into her handkerchief and composed herself.

Jim threw his cigarette into the fireplace then got up and poured himself a bowl of stew. "We'll need to get to Hart first. That will mean getting detailed information on the comings and goings of the Big House....more than what we have at the moment."

"I'll work on that, Jim" Pa offered eagerly. "I'll start by...." He stopped talking when Hannah rose silently from the table and walked away into her room.

The fact that she had not found his plan interesting enough miffed him somewhat. Barty didn't help when he laughed saying "now do you understand how boring you are?"

Pa glared at him and turned to say something to Jim when Hannah returned carrying a notebook of some sorts. "What's that?" Pa asked annoyed.

She laid her recipes out on the table and each of the men took one and looked over it...

"Feckin' recipes!" Pa said angrily throwing the page back into the center of the table. "Are you gone off your head, or what?"

Jim did not like his tone at all. "People driven by anger can say things that cannot be retracted when the emotion has passed. Such is the power of the spoken word. You would be wise to remember that Pa." then he turned to Hannah and spoke softly "these look like ordinary recipes Hannah, but unless you intend cooking for an entire village, I would say there is something seriously off here with the quantities of the ingredients.

Hannah smiled, feeling proud of her work "everything you want to know about the Big House is in here. These are not recipes- you're right Jim. These are simply my observations and inside information disguised in case I got caught."

She searched Jim's face for something that would relay his feelings about what a good job she had done, but as usual there was nothing she could read into. "Before I give you this information I want your word that I alone go after Hart. This is to be my mission and mine alone."

"Hannah" Jim said holding up a hand for her to stop "it's best you leave that part of the operation to us. You've done more than enough now. Much more than we could have ever expected, but if there is going to be an attack, we can't be involving you."

Hannah couldn't believe her ears, he had just cut her out completely and after she shared her months of hard work with them. Her blood was boiling with rage. "If there's going to be an attack?" she said looking at them all in disgust. "You mean you don't even think you will be doing anything about this mass murderer even though you have everything you need to get him?"

"Now Hannah" Jim admonished "this is not about....."

"I don't want to hear it!" she snapped. "You talk of freeing your country, and the first thing you do when you're presented with an opportunity to do just that, you cower away."

"That's not true Hannah." Jim said quietly. "But it is obvious you are blood thirsty and want to attack, kill even. My methods are different from yours."

She stood up, grabbed her recipes and waved a finger at him "don't you take me for a fool. You knew damn well I came here because I was waiting for a chance to get back at the man who beat me to within an inch of my life and who killed my entire family. You used that to your advantage, welcomed it even. And now you think I'm going to sit back and let you exclude me just because it doesn't suit you anymore. Well, you have made a very grave error!"

"It's too soon; you're just not ready" Jim stated.

"He will die by my hand" Hannah said coldly "I guarantee you that. You would be very foolish to underestimate me."

"Why?"

"Because I know exactly what he does every second of every day and I know the precise moment I will kill him."

Jim could not deny the determination and drive in Hannah, but he feared her desire for revenge was bigger than her ability to execute the man. Still he had to probe this further "how do you plan on doing this?"

Pa threw his hands up in the air "jaysus Jim you can't be seriously considering letting her do this." But Jim did not respond to his protest.

Hannah took the following silence as her cue to speak "according to the information I have gathered I can take him this Friday in the Big House."

"Why this Friday?" Jim probed "That's only in three days".

Hannah looked at him intently "Look Jim, I will not ask for your permission on this; I am here for the sole and unique purpose of eliminating Hart."

"I could stop you".

"Nothing will stop me doing this."

Jim knew she would do it, and for that he was willing to let her try. "You go ahead and do what you have to do, but if you're not out on time we are burning that house down even if you're in it – agreed?"

"Agreed!"

This accord brought on a folly of protests from Pa, but

Hannah ignored him and continued on "right then! I'll give you an example" she said pointing at one page in particular "this is one of my first recipes; it's for Maura's Soda Bread. I have several recipes of soda bread, so I make it look like these are recipes from women who shared their own way of making things.

Preparation time 08 Minutes. That signifies the 8th month.

Cooking time 20 to 21 minutes. That's the 20th day of 1921.

Sour Milk – that's Hart. 2 cups – means he's not alone.

Brown Flour – that's his right hand man. 2 cups means he's with Hart.

White flour - that's his unit. 15 cups is the number of men.

Dark Kilrush molasses – Kilrush town was where they headed, dark means it was night and molasses means they went to the pub.

3 eggs beaten for 11 minutes – that describes 3 people who were attacked by the tans at around eleven o'clock.

Method.

Mix sour milk, flour, both white and brown with sugar for six hours – okay that means they were all drinking for six hours. - Make a hole in center of flour to form a well and place one beaten egg in it.- That's what they did to one of the men, they placed him over a well and threatened to drop him in."

Hannah spent the remainder of the evening going over all her recipes and revealing all of the information including what the cooks reported. Jim wrote down everything she said and by the time she was finished Barty and Pa were sitting in muted astonishment at how an inexperienced sixteen year old girl had managed to gather more intelligence on Hart than they had in all the time they were involved. What didn't help their egos was when Jim turned to them and said "that's what you call a job well done!"

Hannah gave a fleeting smile. "On Friday, Hart and his men are always extremely inebriated and they have visitors. I have been watching them for some time now and they have never behaved any other way. Targeting them at the end of the evening will be easiest. And....."

She spent the next few hours going over the details of her notes and planning the attack on Hart. When all avenues of possibilities were exhausted Hannah asked when they were going to start warning the people on the list.

Jim nodded against that "we'll never have time to find everything that we need in addition to getting all the supplies for the attack."

"You mean you're not going to warn anybody!" she asked in disbelief.

"Barty, Pa... surely you will warn them?"

"We're going to Dublin later on" they replied in unison.

"Look you don't know when Hart will strike" Hannah said standing "it could be today not Sunday."

"I'm going to have to leave that to you Hannah" Jim replied.

"Right then" She said with resignation "I'll have to get going right now!!"

Ten minutes later Hannah made her way out into the cold wet dawn and began cycling as fast as she could.

By noon later that day, she was sitting in the kitchen of Matt Mulchair's house sipping on some hot tea feeling awful and trying to fight off the beginnings of a fever. Her clothes were still damp from spending the best part of the morning in the rain, but she wasn't going to stop until she had finished what she set out to do.

"And you saw this list with your own eyes" Matt asked quietly. His two teenage sons stood behind their father listening intently, but not saying a word. Their father ruled the roost and they spoke only when spoken to. The absence of a mother's care and love in their lives was obvious. There was a general unkemptness about them and the place. Not that Matt wasn't a good father, he was obviously doing what he thought was best, but Hannah knew the boys rarely received a hug or praise of any sort. The only thing that seemed to get their father's attention was when any of the boys fired a direct shot at a target.

"Yes, I saw it. But it was Jim who found the list; you can ask him yourself how he happened upon it. I just thought you should know, so you can take your boys and hide away somewhere for a while."

Matt nodded his head and growled a thank you. "Myself and the young fellas will be staying here. We'll not be running anywhere."

Hannah felt alarmed, "You don't understand" she said afraid for them "this man will torture and kill your sons while you watch, and then he'll kill you. He's truly mad, I mean that. You do not want to be here when he comes, and he's coming. Take your boys to safety." Hannah stared at him hoping he would see sense but he just told the boys to go to the barn for extra supplies. She gulped down the last of her tea then stood up to leave "thanks for the tea".

"Where are you off to now?" he asked.

"There were others on that list who need to be warned too."

As she left the farmhouse the oldest of the Mulchair lads dashed after her and gave her some bread and a chunk of home cured ham. "You look like you could do with a good meal" he said shyly. Hannah smiled as she took his offering then reached out, gave him a hug and thanked him. The boy turned a deep red before running away.

Normally she would have been eager to eat, but her appetite was gone, if anything she felt nauseous, probably from the cold she was starting. The damp clothes weren't helping at all. A change was needed.

Thankfully not all families reacted to her news like Matt Mulchair. The Slattery's were very grateful for the warning and immediately began to pack up their belongings. The father was about to tell her where they would be going, but Hannah stopped him "don't tell me!" she warned "if I don't know, Hart can't force it out of me." Mr. Slattery seemed even more scared by this information and quickly began to saddle up his horse and wagon. Hannah left them in their rush to get ready and headed towards the village. Her body felt extremely hot, yet she shivered with the cold. By the time she reached the village square it was after midnight and she was ready to collapse. *

*

A man who lost his wife the way Peader O' Driscoll lost his, no longer slept soundly. He had been up and pacing the tearoom floor as he did most nights. There was something comforting about being in the place Maura loved so much. The tea room was her making and he had enjoyed seeing her run the place with pride. She had a way with people that kept them coming back. It wasn't for the tea; they could have had that at home. No, it was Maura they all loved. Not a drop of tea had been poured since she died, he hadn't been able to look after the shop never mind serve tea. Anyway he would have been no good at that kind of thing; he was a clumsy man and a bit grumpy. The ladies that used to help Maura were trying to urge him to get the place going again, but he didn't have the gra for it at all. People even dared to tell him that time heals all wounds, but what did they know about his wounds. Besides wanting to tell them all to fuck off, he wasn't wounded, he was dead. In an effort to stifle the urge to burst out crying, he looked out through the window that gave onto the main street, that's when he spotted her. Hannah Moore looked like she had been drinking, which just didn't seem right, but then again she had lost as much as him and he had been drinking since the day he buried Maura.

He took his rifle and cautiously opened the shop door. She was walking crookedly with her bicycle and mumbling to herself. Afraid that he would frighten her, he approached cautiously and called her name aloud.

Her body jerked momentarily then she looked at him for a long moment, and tried to speak but had difficulty articulating. In her mind she was formulating the words only they weren't coherent when she spoke them.

"Hannah, it's me Peader. What's happened to you?"

She staggered and he reached out to steady her "you had better get inside; you don't look well at all". The immediate contact with her skin told him she was burning up with a fever. "What have you been up to child?"

Having never had any children of his own, Peader felt unsure as to what to do. If Maura had been around she would have taken over masterfully, gently shooing him away in the process. Not being able to give her any children was the one thing he always felt guilty about. Maura would have been a great mother, but they just could not have a baby. As time went on they gave up on that dream and went on content with what they had.

"You're on the list" Hannah muttered as he lead her into the unused living room and sat her on the couch. He got some blankets and covered her with them. "Execution list" she mumbled again then her whole body began trembling and Peader became very concerned. "Look, I'm just going to get the doctor Hannah, you're not well at all."

Summoning all of her strength, she grabbed his hand "The Tan, Black Hart has your name down on an execution list. You and Maura have to get out of here immediately. There's no time, they'll strike soon!" Peader shook off her hand in alarm. "Oh God you're a lot worse than I thought" he said then dashed out to get the doctor.

A few hours later Peader, the doctor, Father Dempsey and Jim sat at a table in the tea room. They each had a glass of whiskey in front of them, and the bottle stood open in the center. The doctor had administered what help he could to Hannah, but the fever just had to run its course. However, he wasn't too concerned about her pulling through, he said he had seen men twice her size crumble under less hazardous conditions and that proved beyond a reasonable doubt that she was as tough as nails. Father Dempsey had been called in at the same time as the doctor by Peader who believed Hannah was dying. When Peader banged on the church door, he was surprised to find the priest up and chatting with Jim, who happened to have been searching for Hannah for over a day. He had finally gone to Father Dempsey's as a last resort.

Now, the four men were all seated around and discussing the situation.

Father Dempsey seemed most annoyed about Hannah's condition. "This child has been through an awful lot lately. I cannot believe she is once again in ill health. Why did you let her off like that?"

His question had been directed at Jim who did not appreciate the attitude. In an effort to control his temper, he spoke with his usual calm tone. "I told her to warn the people who were on the list. Shortly after she left I followed her, but could not find her. Because it had turned cold and was raining hard, I went to several places where I expected to find her. Obviously I didn't and obviously she spent the night outside and got wet. That is why she is ill."

"What certain places?" the doctor asked.

Jim was feeling very impatient "I cannot say Doctor, and I would prefer if you didn't ask."

"You're quite right" the doctor replied getting up. "I try to heal those who can be healed, I don't take sides. So before I hear more than I really want to, I shall bid you all a very good night." The others said good night and father Dempsey thanked him for coming so quickly.

When he was gone, Peader spoke to Jim "but why did she leave all of a sudden? Was she frightened?"

"Yes, Jim" Father Dempsey said in agreement with Peader "what frightened her that she would react like that."

From the looks he was getting from the other men Jim knew he was being suspected of having sexual desires towards Hannah when nothing could have been further from the truth. He lit up a cigarette and made them wait for his response. "I would like to say first of all that Hannah Moore frightens people more than she could be frightened – a fact anybody who knows her well enough will not dispute. So no, she did not leave because she was frightened. She was angry with me. We had disagreed on something she felt strongly about and because I would not change my mind, she left."

"What did she feel strongly about?" Peader continued.

Jim was trying to limit the information divulged as much as possible. So far, they knew more than he wanted, but still the information flow could be managed so that he could turn this around.

"I want to kill Black Hart". The three heads spun around to see a very pale, thin and sickly looking Hannah standing at the entrance to the tea room. Jim rolled his eyes in frustration. "You should be in bed."

"What?" Father Dempsey asked. "You're planning to murder!"

"Hart plans on executing many people from around here. He has to be stopped." She answered boldly.

"Hannah" Jim looked at her warningly "this is not information we should be discussing here and now."

As she stood there feeling like a train had run over here, she looked with utter disdain at Jim and said "it should be discussed, at all costs." Then turning to look at Peader and Father Dempsey, she continued. "There are several more people on Hart's execution list who have not been informed. Jim here is waiting for....well I don't know what he's waiting for. All I know is if those people don't get sufficient warning Father Dempsey is going to be having multiple burials."

All eyes turned to Jim who was silently cursing the day he ever set eyes on the girl.

"Peader" she added "you're on that list. Did I tell you?" He nodded his head affirming that she did but omitted that Maura was mentioned.

"I'm looking after this" Jim said hastily stubbing out his cigarette.

"Maybe you should go lie down now" Father Dempsey said, sensing Hannah's fatigue and the onset of another argument. Obviously she was too weak to argue with anybody and returned to the couch. As she departed the room she reiterated that those on the list should be warned.

Later the next day Hannah was feeling better – not completely better, but a far cry from what she had been. It was time to go, but where? She had become a nomad, errant with no place to go. Not that she had wanted to go anywhere yet, not until she had finished what she started out to do.

She found Peader in the tea room removing the chairs from the tables and placing them back onto the floor. He stopped working when he saw her standing there. "Good to see you're looking stronger."

"Thanks Peader, for everything." Then with a sudden look of concern she said "why haven't you left? I told you about the list. You..."

He smiled and said "I am ready for any Tan that comes through that door. I'm not running away from the home and business I built." Then after a moment's pause he said "you don't have to run either. If you're up for a fight then you're welcome to stay. Maura would have liked that."

Hannah smiled and thanked him for his offer "That's very kind of you, I'll definitely think about that."

"Right then" he said smiling again.

"Are you preparing to open up again?"

"I just can't seem to get the will to do it. Anyway I wouldn't know the first thing about serving teas and making scones."

"In your own time Peader, in your own time."

Peader looked most surprised by what she just said. Nobody had told him healing could come in his own time, everyone was expecting him to be over things quickly. But how could he be normal after Maura died. And now this young child said something more sensible than any adult. He felt a sense of relief inside and it was the first time in months that he felt anything other than loss. "I almost forgot" he said after wiping off a table. "I have something to give you. Follow me."

Hannah went around to the side of the house with Peader walking quickly ahead. He stopped, went into the small whitewashed shed and came out a moment later with Maura's bicycle. "I thought you'd be needing this for all the traveling you've been doing. It's in better shape than the one you have."

Hannah looked at Peader with great pity. Here was a man doing his best to heal, and now he was giving away something that was dear to him. "That's very kind of you, but I can't take it; that was Maura's!"

"Child, I think we both know that this will serve you much more than it will serve me. There's no point in looking at it growing cobwebs from lack of use." He wheeled it to her, "take it, and may it bring you where you want to be."

She took hold of the handle bars and smiled, the little brown woven basket was bigger - perfect for carrying her own stuff and getting around would be a lot easier than before. "This is wonderful Peader, thank you so much". She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "When I finish what I have to do I'll come and help out at the tea house, if you'd like." Overcome with emotion a teary eyed Peader whispered "very much so". Hannah smiled, hopped up on the bicycle "it's a promise then" she called out as she rode away. He watched her until she was out of sight like a father worrying after a child leaving the nest.

She made it back to the cottage in half the time it would have normally taken her. The bicycle was fantastic and she enjoyed the sense of freedom that speeding downhill gave her. Although she was tired, she felt exhilarated by the prospects of ending her mission and going back to run the tea house. As she entered the cottage a strong invasive smell hit her nostrils and she looked around in confusion at the many bottles standing on the floor half filled with a yellowish liquid she recognized as diesel. There was no sign of Pa, Barty or Jim, and she called out their names while walking around to the rear of the cottage. The sight she beheld when she turned the corner made her go pale with fright.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Jim rolled his eyes when he saw Hannah standing there, but his surprise was not enough for him to remove the pistol he had against Pa's head. Hannah's gaze turned to Matt Mulchair who had just finished tying Pa's arms behind his back, in what looked like a preparation for an execution. Barty seemed indifferent to the whole scene as he busily calculated amounts of diesel and containers he had placed in rows on the ground...

"Go back to O' Driscoll!" Jim commanded. Hannah's eyes darted to Pa and she saw the terror on his face.

"Pa, what's going on?" her voice trembled. "What happened?" When no answer came Pa mouthed to Hannah to go as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"WHAT'S GOING ON!!!!!!!????" she screamed as loud as she could. Matt Mulchair dashed towards her, grabbed her shoulder and pushed her away roughly. "This is none of your business young one. Now, feck off with ya!!"

Hannah reached in under her skirt and pulled out the pistol that Matt had given her months earlier. He backed off immediately. Her anger was soaring now, her lips tight from the adrenaline carousing through her body as she trained the weapon on Matt first then Jim. "Somebody had better tell me what Pa did to merit this treatment?" she said, her breathing was short and irregular and her hands unsteady but she was determined not to see Pa die like this.

Mulchair spat on the ground as he glared at Pa. "He's changed his mind. Haven't ya? Ya coward ya!!" He roared.

"It's not that, it's not what you think" Pa said pleadingly, but Jim slapped him hard on his face with the butt end of his pistol and roared at him to shut-up.

To see Jim lose his temper meant things were bad. "You want out? Out of what?" Hannah asked Pa directly while keeping the gun trained on Jim "and you two let him speak." She warned aloud.

Pa was sobbing so much Hannah couldn't understand a word he was saying. "Pull yourself together Pa and speak clearly." He did, and after taking a deep long breath he explained how Jim and Matt and a few other men from the village were planning to execute the two women who cooked at the Big House. He didn't want any part of that. He joined up as a volunteer to fight against the Tans not to kill women."

Hannah stared at Jim with narrow eyes and spoke like one who just realized she had been deceived. "Those women, their address, what they did, none of that was in my recipes. You stole that information. You took it from my basket while I was sick at Peader's. That was not yours to take!"

Jim lowered his pistol and turned to Hannah "I told you from the beginning information is a very powerful tool, much more lethal than any weapon."

Hannah looked at him in disbelief. "You know that killing the women is not necessary. They are innocent, as are their families."

"How can they be innocent when they're working for Hart?"

"Is that what you think, Jim? Do you honestly believe that those women had a choice in what they did? Think about it; those very two women cooked at the Big House for the previous proprietor, and now they're doing the same thing for Hart. Put two and two together Jim and you'll see the truth. They were threatened into working in that house; if they had refused Hart was going to kill their children first then them. So they did as ordered to and without any sort of pay either. He told them to count themselves lucky they were being kept alive at all. Now, imagine the risk those women took just to get me the information that will bring Hart down, and you want to murder them!!! If that's what you intend doing then you are no better than Hart."

Jim looked from Pa to Hannah and went to speak, but Mulchair shouted "He's a coward who should be shot Jim and you know it."

Whipping his head around Jim became even angrier and shouted "shut-up Mulchair would you. For feck sake you're clucking like an old hen over there!" Then he turned back and pointed a finger at Pa while speaking to Hannah. "He can no longer be trusted, and when you can't trust one of your own, it's too dangerous to keep him alive."

If this is about trust for you then I'll ask you this, do you trust me Jim?"

In retrospect this was a very silly question to ask because at the time she asked she still had a gun aimed at Jim's head. She rephrased the question "do you trust me to do the job I said I'd do?"

Jim trusted nobody, never did, never would, but he knew determination when he saw it. This little waif wanted Hart and his entire unit wiped out and would not rest until that was done. He could guarantee he'd see Hart's dead body someday and that she would have had her part in it. He trusted her anger and thirst for revenge to get the job done, and reluctantly said as much.

That was all that Hannah needed to hear. "Good! Now I'm vouching for Pa." she said boldly "I will keep him with me and he'll do as I tell him."

Pa's eyes widened in shock; he felt like a child having a nurse mind him, but no word of protest was uttered. Fear had paralyzed him. Here he was, a grown man five years older than her, yet he watched Hannah take control in a way he could never do. She was fighting to save his life, but he was already dying from shame.

Jim thought about Hannah's proposal for a long moment. Mulchair looked like he would burst if he didn't get to say what he wanted though he knew better than to interrupt. "Okay" Jim snapped, his calm demeanor long gone. "But....he had better not step out of line once or he's as good as dead."

"And the women?"

"You've saved the only life you could today, be glad of that."

Hannah was outraged "those women could...." Jim interrupted by talking loudly over her. "Those women could have been feeding you shite and you wouldn't have known for one second. I've been surveying their actions myself and I can tell you they're not looking too oppressed at all. So they're certainly on the same list as all the Tan scum!"

"They told the truth." She insisted.

He shook his head "I read every word of information given by those women and it brought me to two decisions. The first is we're going to attack the Big House right now – a full scale attack head on, and the second is the women will be killed in the process."

Hannah's eyes were wide with horror. This was not how they had planned things at all. Attacking the Big House head on was suicide. They were not equipped to take on a well-trained, well equipped experienced army. They had managed to cause some damage once, but that had made the Tans all the more wary, which made getting near their perimeter even harder. Why wasn't Jim sticking to the original plan? She wanted to scream at him, but that was pointless, instead she decided to broach this in a way she had seen him do many times before.

"I don't understand something" she said forcing herself to calm down. "Your change of tactics will have far more casualties for our side. Full scale head on seems fine if we have the weapons and the training, but I don't see anyone amongst us who has that."

"I have that" Jim stated defensively.

Still remaining calm she continued "that's good for you, but it will be impossible for you to cover all of us who haven't that experience. Now Matt here is a great shot, we all know that, but he won't last a minute if he's charging into the Big House and has to reload his rifle. You may be able to cover him, but if you can't Matt will be shot to death and we'll be down a man we can't afford to lose." Matt had obviously not thought about things in that kind of detail when Jim was telling them they were fighting for freedom. "I'd give my life for Irish freedom" he announced somewhat patriotically.

"I'm sure you would Matt." Hannah continued "but we could do this in another way that would lower the risks for all of us and allow us to enjoy that Irish freedom we long for so much. My plan was what Jim had agreed to originally, so I don't know what made him want to change his mind." Hannah didn't give Jim a chance to explain the reason, as she wanted the others to hear what she had to say. "I originally suggested that we take the Tans on the last Friday night of the month – tonight - where they do the same thing without fail. A lorry load of dock ladies is brought in from Dublin at nightfall and they spend the entire night being distracted, so to speak. They also drink themselves into a stupor, so by dawn, or around that, most are unconscious, those that aren't are too sick to do much. That's when we attack, but it's vital we get Hart and his aide first – those two are the back bone of the whole unit. If they're gone, the others are lost. A pre-dawn raid should do it."

Jim was smiling in a condescending way "where did all this information come from Hannah? Was it from the cleaning ladies? Or did you see these things for yourself?"

"You know well enough where my information came from." Her calm wasn't holding as well now.

Jim explained "yes, it came from the two ladies who work for Hart whether by force or not. I think he has instilled a little more fear in them than you have! "

"And my observations." Hannah interjected. "I spent days, if not weeks watching that place. The dock ladies did go in, the men were inebriated and by early morning when the women were loaded back onto the lorry the driver could barely stand up from vomiting never mind drive."

Jim was not convinced. "The cooks helped the enemy. Why would they provide you with accurate information?"

"Because" Hannah said through gritted teeth "they don't want to die!!"

The two seemed to be at a stale mate. Hannah was convincing in her argument that a more stealth approach would be better, but Jim's experience far outweighed the convictions of a sixteen year old girl who had never fought a day in her life. Nobody would have listened to her any further, if it wasn't for Barty. He had remained silent since Hannah had arrived, but now he stood up moved towards them and said "Hannah's information is correct."

Jim gave him a warning look but Barty ignored it. "Most of my time is spent in Dublin...... on other things. But I heard talk about the Tans picking up many of the dock ladies, so I paid a few of them to bring me information. It's the exact same information that Hannah has just told you about with a few details more, that will be helpful to know. But the last Friday of the month is by far the best time to attack, and if I'm not mistaken, that's only several hours away which doesn't give us a lot of time to prepare."

Jim shook his head in disbelief and now it was Hannah's turn to smile "Information is a lethal weapon Jim."

By the time Hannah left the cottage with Pa she felt exhausted, weak even. They had a lot to do and not too much time. She was sat side-saddle on the carrier of the bike with Pa pedaling hard. Hannah's basket was laden with various weapons, so they had to be extremely vigilant about being spotted by roaming Tans. Pa hadn't uttered a word since Hannah had vouched for him. For sure nobody in that cottage had been entirely happy with what had happened with the exception of Pa, who was probably counting his blessings. Matt Mulchair would have preferred to have seen him shot. Barty had not made any friends by agreeing with her, but it proved that Jim's plan of a full scale attack was madness. Jim had lost face by totally losing his temper and that was not good for any leader. At least he had the sense to agree to a dawn attack.

She decided to break the silence and talk about some good news she heard about Babby. Apparently she had returned home for a few weeks to see how she would get along. Hannah didn't explain to Pa the details of her attack; she just said that Hart had almost killed her and that she needed hospitalization to get through the shock of the whole thing. Anyway, now that Babby was home Hannah intended on going to visit her after dark, so she would not run in to Babby's mother again.

Hannah and Pa arrived at the crossroads that would lead them to the village when Pa stopped the bike and turned around to Hannah. He looked at her for a moment then sighed heavily "not everyone knows about the list."

"What!" Hannah said frowning.

Pa hung his head slightly "Jim didn't warn everyone who was on the execution list."

"But, when I was sick he said he would take care of it. I understood that everyone was warned two days ago!" Hannah saw Pa shake his head and swore in frustration. "Well who are left?" she snapped.

"Only one family" Pa answered solemnly "the O' Neill's".

"Why didn't he warn them?"

"Jim was convinced O'Neill was somehow in league with Hart and if he warned them O'Neill would then warn Hart that we knew about the list."

"That's madness!" Hannah exclaimed. "The O' Neill's are not spies at all." When Pa said nothing Hannah continued. "Look their farm is not too far from here, I'll have time to go and warn them if you go to Mulchair's farm and tell the boys to go to the hill two fields behind the church and watch the Big House. The minute they spot the lorry of ladies going in they must come and meet us in the church – back entrance only. Okay?"

"If we're attacking Hart later on in the night, why do you want to warn the O' Neill's? Sure they'll be safe once we get Hart."

"Because we might fail. I hope we won't, but we have to consider that possibility."

She got on the bicycle and started to pedal away "I'll meet you in the church later on."

By evening the number of men who volunteered to take on Hart and his unit had congregated in the back room across from the sacristy. There were around forty of them coming from all walks of life cramming into a small space with a common purpose that would bind them like kin. There was a mixture of tension and excitement in the air as the men waited for their orders and their weapons to be supplied. Father Dempsey called for a moment's silence to pray for their safe return from battle and sprinkled them copiously with Holy Water. He went into the sacristy next door and knew that something was not right. Hannah was pacing the floor anxiously and Pa looked ashen faced. She looked up, hopeful for a split second, then seeing it was only Father Dempsey her expression changed to disappointment. "Something has gone wrong" she said folding her arms tightly under her chest "they should have been here at least an hour ago."

Jim, Matt, Barty and Peader were supposed to have brought in the remainder of the weapons and bombs for the attack. Some supplies had been stored in an empty, unmarked grave in the graveyard behind the church, and while they had been removed for tonight's battle, the bulk of the weapons had yet to be brought in. "Even Matt's boys aren't here!"

Hannah was about to go off looking for them when all of a sudden a voice was heard calling out from inside the chapel. The three dashed from the sacristy down the corridor leading to the altar, all the while following the voice. It was a woman and she sounded very upset. Pa was the first to reach the door; he placed his hand on the handle then stopped. "Father, I'll take a look first." He peeked cautiously outside for a moment then pulled his head back in.

'One woman, she's alone. You're all right."

Hannah who couldn't see past the others whispered urgently "wait! We'll stay beside you, but out of sight; only go a few steps beyond the door where I can still cover you adequately." The priest nodded his understanding then turned and opened the door calling to the wailing woman as he walked out to where Hannah had told him. Once Pa moved to the side, she saw the face of the woman who was crying and gasped!

Hannah pulled open the door and ran to join Father Dempsey who didn't wait where he was supposed to, and was already trying to calm the woman down in order to understand why she was so upset. "He....he's taken them....into the Big House" she said, her plump body trembling with fear...all of them... I can't get to them. He's gone mad all together – worse than ever."

Hannah approached and instantly recognized one of Hart's cooks.

"Who's been taken to the Big House?

Her voice fell to a whisper "all of our children."

"What!" Hannah exclaimed.

The woman was almost delirious now "Hart said I helped the locals plot against him. He said I had been sneaking information off to them for months.... And now my children and Rita's children are going to die!" Her wailing started again.

Whatever doubts Jim had about the loyalty of the cooks, Hannah knew this was no trick. Hart had wind of something, she just hoped he didn't know what it was or that the attack was tonight.

"Look, we'll get your children out." Hannah said by way of consolation. "How many exactly are in there?" Through more sobs the woman starting naming a litany of children's names "there's Rita's seven... Mary, Helen, Tommy...."

"Stay here" Hannah said interrupting "and don't go out onto the street anymore tonight."

The terrified woman held Hannah's hand "please get them back, please" she implored. Hannah led her to a confessional, opened the door and placed the woman on the seat where the priest would normally sit. "Hide in here, and don't come out until you're sent for. Do you understand?" When the woman replied that she did, Hannah, Father Dempsey and Pa all headed back into the sacristy.

Hannah was pacing again. "Where is Jim and the others? They should have been here ages ago! We cannot go ahead as planned now, not with imprisoned children in the Big House. They could be killed in the attack."

Pa seemed at a loss for words. His pale face and hollow looking eyes made him appear gaunt and unwell. Father Dempsey was leaning in on a waist high wooden altar, his arms outstretched, his head bent. He too was looking for a solution and was thinking aloud. "If we tell the men that there are children in the Big House the attack will be cancelled immediately. I don't want to have to wait another month to get a chance to attack."

Hannah suddenly stopped pacing. "I have an idea!" She tore the material from the neck area of her dress to reveal part of her bosoms then let her long hair loose.

"God above in heaven child what are you doing?"

"I'm a dock lady" she said.

"Oh sweet Jesus" Father Dempsey uttered "You'll be attacked all over again!!! I will not allow you to do this!"

Pa's pallor was becoming sicklier looking by the second. Hannah wondered if he was about to vomit. "Look, I have to go" Hannah said taking her basket and heading towards the door. There was no time to stand around trying to answer questions. "Tell the men nobody does anything until Jim and the others arrive. Okay?"

A fearful Father Dempsey went to follow her but right at that moment Pa vomited copiously which allowed Hannah to scurry out the door into the main chapel and out around to the back of the graveyard.

Hannah needed to get around to the rear of the Big House. She crossed the graveyard descended the small bank and into the stream. Even though the weather had been mild, the flowing freshwater was freezing. In the darkness there was no way to avoid the many large slippery rocks and Hannah tripped twice on the stony obstacles. She waded as quietly as possible approaching the tiny bridge beside the Big House that would get her in the exact position she needed. There were Tans positioned around the perimeter from this point on and Hannah had to make sure she wasn't seen or heard. Soaking wet, she waited behind a bush on the bank only yards from the Big House. From where she was positioned she tried to listen for any sounds of children screaming, but at this distance it was very difficult to hear anything. Not long afterwards she heard the rumble of a Tan lorry as it drove around to the rear of the house. A guard hopped out from the back and pulled down a section of the lorry that facilitated its cargo to disembark. Hannah watched as fifteen dock ladies of all shapes and sizes descended in silence and waited. They were standing about ten feet from where she was crouched and Hannah prepared to join them when all of a sudden a pebble hit her hard on the head. She whipped around squinting to see better in the darkness, and saw both Mulchair boys directly on the opposite side of the stream. They could see what she was doing and signaled urgently for her to cross over to them, but she shook her head vigorously. There was no time. She turned her attention back to the dock ladies who were now gathered together away from the truck, but still only a few feet from her. The Tan, who had assisted the women from the lorry, raised the section that had been lowered minutes earlier and banged it twice with his hand as he called to his colleague up front to move out. While the truck was driving away, another Tan opened a back door and told them to move ahead in file. Hannah cautiously peered out through the bushes crouching, as she prepared to join the moving line in the Big House, but a second pebble landed hard on her shoulder forcing her to whip around in anger.

"Go away" she whispered. But they were already climbing up on the bank to join her. "What are you doing?" She asked angrily. The oldest boy placed a cold wet hand on her mouth, his eyes wide with urgency; his face full of fear. His small hands rustled her hair as he tried to find her ear. She smiled while leaning towards him to listen.

"They're dead" said the soft voice "all of them!"

She looked at him and frowned "who is dead?"

When he didn't say anything she leaned in again to listen "Hart..." the boy whispered "he burned them all alive: Jim, Barty, Peader and..." His voice broke as the sheer weight of the words became too much to speak; his father was no more.

She looked for a moment at both boys, who appeared totally dejected as they knelt on the cold wet grass shivering from cold and shock then held them in a long embrace. Their sorrow was profound; the loss of their father tonight rendered them orphans, alone and struggling in their youth.

This news shook her to the core, and many thoughts flooded her mind. "Did you see the murders take place?" she asked releasing them.

The oldest swallowed hard before he answered "Yes. We were about to set out from home to the village when the Tan lorry sped past us, the cover wasn't pulled down, and we saw Dad and the others inside, so we followed the road by the fields. We weren't fast enough at all. By the time we found them, they were already on fire and the Tans were driving away laughing." The youngest suddenly hid his face in his hands and sobbed quietly. His brother, alarmed that this noise would attract the Tans, shook him gently and told him to be quiet or they'd get killed.

Hannah felt torn between wanting to get the boys to a safe place and wanting to storm the Big House. Tonight four lives were wasted – nothing more than notches on Hart's belt. How could the villagers defeat the Tans when their leaders were dead? The only response to enter her mind was: they couldn't!"

The last of the prostitutes had just entered the house when both Tans, who had been guarding the perimeter, abandoned their posts and eagerly followed the others inside. Hannah waited until she heard the door close then turned to the boys. Right now they needed to get dried and fed, and when she told them as much their response was not what she expected. "We didn't come here for you to tell us what we need; we came here to blow that murdering bastard Hart to Smithereens!"

Hannah knew the boy's anger was so strong they could do something that would endanger the lives of the children in the house. "Listen lads" she said with finality "there are about forty men in the church across the way waiting to do exactly that, but Hart's taken some children hostage and God only knows how long they have to live. We can't just go barging in; this has to be done with a cool head." When they didn't object she knew they were looking to be led, they needed to see something was being done to avenge their father's murder. "Go to the church through the graveyard and into the sacristy, Father Dempsey will be there. You must tell him what has happened to your father and the men, but only him. Make sure nobody else hears you. Tell him, that only when I have the children safely out are the volunteers to storm the house."

"With what?" the oldest gasped "they took all the weapons."

"Is there anything left in that barn of yours?"

"Yes, but we'd never have time to go back home get what's left and be back in time to attack."

Hannah thought for a moment "that's true if you'd be going on foot. Slight change of plan - go get Father Dempsey and tell him to meet me out front."

Minutes later the youngest Mulchair was steering the Tan lorry down the road as the older brother, Father Dempsey and Hannah pushed with all their strength from behind; there was no way to turn the motor on without bringing the Tans out in droves.

By the time the boys turned on the engine and drove off they were well out of earshot of the Tans, and Father Dempsey had returned to the sacristy, while Hannah trekked once again to the rear of the Big House and slipped into the opening of a tiny coal chute.

Hannah descended silently into complete darkness for a second or two. The metal slide used to supply coal to the furnace felt heavily laden with the rock's residual dust and her movement sent a cloud of fine powered particles covered her body, entered her nostrils and blinded her eyes. She landed with a hard thud on a pile of black stones and immediately tried to clean her eyes which stung painfully from the copious amounts of powder. Rubbing some of the grime away helped, but a basin of water was needed before she could see properly again. Her soaking wet skirt gave her an idea. Moments later she had squeezed the excess water onto her open eyes and although it rinsed them a little, the stinging and tearing persisted. All of a sudden, a wonderful sensation came over her; it was not something she had noticed in the seconds after falling, nor while she was cleaning her eyes, but now it was there – heat, wonderful heat. Squinting deeply she made her way towards the source: a furnace. Compared to the cold and damp outside this warm, dry, sooty place felt almost comforting. The reality though, was this was more like the belly of a dragon.

The exit from the furnace room led to a dimly lit corridor where several doors with peeling paint and blood stains were testimony to what was going on in the house. Having experienced the Tan mistreatment firsthand, she shuddered to think of going through the same torture again if caught; yet knowing that children were imprisoned here was something she would risk in order to save them. Continuing on, she listened intently, but couldn't hear anything other than the distant raucous laughter of the women and the Tans on another floor. Down in the bowls of the basement, only an eerie silence prevailed, amplifying the sensation that nothing good would ever dwell here again.

On the left hand side, was a small passage leading to some other area of the house. It was pitch dark, so she decided, for now, to continue looking in the slightly more illuminated area. Pushing down on the handle of the fifth door, she found it was locked. Still, she listened intently for children's voices, but heard nothing. After a moment, when she had just begun to walk away, the faintest sound of a whimper caught her attention. There was a quiet sobbing. Someone was crying!

How to get in? Her hands roamed with urgency around the wooden frame hoping to find a key hook. Yes! Under her fingers, she felt the cool form of a dead bolt fixed several inches above the door handle. Pulling it back, the heavy metal made a loud thunk and echoed through the corridor. She waited with baited breath, but nobody seemed to have heard the noise, so she made her way inside. Darkness prevented her from getting the full measure of the place, but from what she could gather, it seemed huge, windowless and empty. "Mary, Tom?" she called out in a muted whisper, remembering the frantic woman naming them. "Are you there?" The silence remained. "I'm a friend of your mother's. I've come to get you out of here."

As if from out of nowhere, a young girl of about twelve stepped towards her, as did a boy of about the same age. They looked terrified; their clothes and faces were filthy and they just stood there wide eyed like animals frozen in a hunter's crossbow.

"My name is Hannah" she said softly "your mother sent me to get you. Are you all together in this room?"

It was the boy who finally spoke "No!" His response was curt, but when he didn't elaborate, Hannah asked him gently "how many of you are here?"

He suddenly started to sob quietly "She's missing. One of the Tans took her away after we got here. He was touching her and laughing, saying Hart would enjoy her. I tried to fight him, but he hit me with his rifle and my head cracked."

"You're a brave lad" Hannah said despite feeling appalled at his story. Not wanting to add more emotion to this already difficult situation, she needed to redirect this towards something constructive. "How old is she?"

"Sixteen" he said wiping his eyes "she was helping our mother."

The remainder of the children who had also stepped out of the darkness now appeared around their siblings and whimpered with fear as they saw their big strong brother cry.

"How long ago was she taken?" Hannah asked.

"Just a while ago, I think. I'm not sure. But I was trying to unlock this door and go look for her meself when you came along."

"You're a good man" she said appealing again to his sense of responsibility. The boy nodded in satisfaction at being believed and wiped a snotty nose across his sleeve.

"Well, best get you all out of here quickly, all right?" The oldest boy seemed somewhat skeptical about their chances of escaping, but when Hannah explained that she had just managed to break in, seemed convinced.

"First we have to go down the hall" she said motioning towards the wall "the door in the center will lead us to a furnace room. There's a coal chute which I'm going to get you up through."

Hannah first checked the corridor was clear and sent the oldest boy and girl on as planned. Once they were inside, another two followed; they continued along quietly until all but two of the siblings were together. Hannah and the youngest toddlers were half way there when the loud voice of a Tan was heard coming towards them. Hannah scooped the children under both arms and ran back to the cell. The youngsters were frightened and teetered on the edge of a major bawling fit. The approaching Tan was talking to himself, complaining aloud about doing more than the others. Hannah looked wide eyed at the children and grabbed their hands pulling them back further into the dark room. She barely managed to close the door and put her hands gently around their mouths before the Tan passed. He went directly to the furnace room, and Hannah braced herself for a ruckus, but to her great surprise it never came. She was now dealing with a revolt from the younger ones who were understandably upset about being in a frightening place with a strange person. She whispered that they could join the others in just a moment, if they were really quiet. The Tan's voice could be heard passing by from where he came, but she waited until total silence returned before creeping away to join the siblings.

Great relief was shared momentarily between the children, who had obviously hidden in a coal pile so as not to be spotted by the Tan. But anguish set in once again at seeing the difficult job of trying to get out. Hannah directed them over to the coal pile and pointed up at the cylindrical exit. "This is the way I came in and it's the only way out, so am...what's your name?" she asked of the oldest boy.

"Tom" he answered promptly.

"Right then Tom, I'm going to send you up first, that way you can help pull the others up when I lift them up towards you. Now, remember, there aren't any Tans patrolling outside now, but they could start again at any moment. If you can't escape, wait here until I get back. At least it'll be warmer, so the children will be more comfortable.

"What about....?" the boy asked with a very worried expression.

"I'm going to get her" Hannah interrupted "You just concentrate on getting free; your mother is waiting for you all in the chapel across the way." At the news of their mother being so close by, the children eagerly stepped into line to be lifted through the chute. Hannah and the oldest girl worked together to push Tom through the chute. It took two attempts before he managed, but once he was out he laid right next to the opening and lowered an outstretched hand to help the others. Sending up the oldest girl was hard because she was not agile and it took several attempts to get her up far enough for Tom to catch hold of her hand. When they were all through, Tom looked back down at Hannah "I want you to escape too" he said sadly.

"I will Tom, soon. Hurry away now." They fled away silently and Hannah immediately headed for the small flight of steps that would lead her to the other floors above.

The Big House was built to have live-in servants who had their own separate, modest quarters, all of which were well away from the opulent rooms of the proprietors. It was in this area that Hannah found herself. Two gas burning lamps provided better luminosity. Servants no longer occupied the rooms; they were probably hunted away before the owner was murdered by the Tans. Instead, she discovered that they had become sectors of solitary confinement for uncooperative prisoners. A small open hatch allowed her to peer inside. A man, whose face she did not recognize, was lying unconscious on the floor. He was probably young, but it was hard to tell what with the dim light and his swollen face. The smell of excrement, urine, vomit and blood made her move away, as she fought the strong feeling of nausea that came over her, while memories of her own confinement seized her. Instinct propelled her to run away, but there was a prisoner to be found before Hart raped and murdered her.....if he hadn't already done so. Each hatch revealed more of the same, tortured men lying in their own filth waiting to die, but no sign of the girl.

Hannah moved through to the vast kitchen and found a Tan unconscious at a long wooden table, his hand still holding the whiskey flagon responsible for his state. She headed towards the entrance at the opposite end, when the Tan began to stir and mumble. Afraid he would somehow awake from his stupor she took hold of a large heavy pan and walked carefully towards him. His mumbling had ceased, but he was still stirring somewhat when she raised the pan high above her head. A moment later his eyes opened, and before he had time to think about what was happening, the pan came down hard on his skull. He slumped back onto the table and she placed the pan beside him before making a mad dash towards the open door.

The kitchen led to another small passage, which gave onto a large lounge that still housed a huge, but broken piano. Obviously this was where the guests once congregated for entertainment after dinner. Looking around she imagined the wonderful festive atmosphere this house had known, where guests would have sat on large sofas and chairs while they listened to the pianist play. There was probably dancing too. Hannah was almost certain they could never have foreseen this majestic home turned into the den of hell it had become.

Approaching the parlor, she heard strange noises, a moaning of sorts! A Tan with his pants around his ankles was thrusting hard into a bored looking woman, who was sitting open-legged on the edge of the table. Being preoccupied, he didn't notice Hannah sneak into the room, but the prostitute did. Hannah quickly placed a finger to her lips, signaling her not to speak then quickly sneaked up behind the Tan and hit him hard over the head with the butt end of her revolver. His thrusting immediately stopped and he fell to the floor, his penis still erect. 'I tink his willy was broken" the woman said in her thick Dublin accent "dere was now siagn of him finishin' up at all!"

Hannah didn't respond to that comment because she didn't give a damn about the Tan or his willy; she cared only about finding Hart and the girl. "I'm looking for a young girl, about fourteen or sixteen years old. She was brought in this evening as a prisoner with some other children. Have you seen her?"

The dock lady thought for a moment "Oh da fella Hart has hur" she smiled a toothless smile. "He likes dem yung wans so he does!"

Hannah's eyes widened with shock "where did he bring her?"

"To the master bedroom!" She retorted with raised eyebrows, as if Hannah was somehow slow.

"Where would that be?"

The woman did not sense, or at least ignored the urgency Hannah felt for the young girl and fished some cigarettes out of the pocket of the unconscious Tan, lit one up and inhaled deeply. As the smoke billowed from her nostrils she said "climb the stair case on the left hand side, go down the hallway and it's the last bedroom on the right."

As she ran out the door the woman called out to her "you'll be needing luck, and a lot of it to get in dere!"

Peering around the doorway into the great marble hall Hannah remembered vividly how Hart had tried to kill her by throwing her down the stairs. She had come a long way since then and knew when she would face him again, she would not tremble with fear; she would not be caught again! One thing was sure, the soldiers were expecting sex tonight, and any woman in the house was there for that purpose only. She pushed her breasts up revealing herself in a way she could never have imagined doing before and sauntered into the open.

When Hannah was sure there were no guards about, nor any ambient sounds to indicate they were nearby, she headed for the left hand side of the stair case, mounting cautiously as she went. There were voices coming from above - in a room to the left. Two men were talking, but not loudly enough for Hannah to distinguish their words. The corridor to the right, she remembered was for prisoners.

Once on the landing, she turned left and crept along towards the murmurs of conversation. The wooden floors creaked loudly in places and she avoided the center area where traffic would have made them more susceptible to weight. The room where the voices were coming from was the second on the left. But when she leaned in to listen against the door, only one person spoke. The voice was deep, commanding, and almost mocking. "Refuse? You cannot refuse something like this. It is yours. It has your name on it. The date has yet to be established, but the deposit is already accomplished."

A noise startled Hannah and she scurried back to the top of the stairs to hide, but her breathing seemed so loud she was sure she would be heard. After waiting for a minute or two, a quick glance around the corner brought her right smack into a Tan who was busy buttoning up his shirt. Seeing his eyes opened wide for a moment, Hannah froze expecting a general alarm to be sounded. But it didn't. The Tan suddenly seemed to realize something, as his eyes set upon her breasts. He leered at her with a most lascivious smile. "I didn't see you with the others tonight."

It took her a moment to remember she was like a dock lady, but it was enough for her to plan her next move. "You must have been with Hart" he said stepping closer "a young one like you would definitely be his choice picking." The Tan leaned in and pulled her up to the landing then pressed himself into her. "But you're not busy now, are you love?"

Hannah remembered how the other Tan's penis was erect when he had collapsed and she knew that this man's penis was doing exactly the same thing because she could feel the hardness against her. He would be looking for a table to sit her on soon if she didn't react now. "Yeah dat's right!" she answered in her best Dublin accent, as she pulled away. "I'm not busy now, but the Boss man said nobody else is to have me tonight, only him."

The Tan looked disappointed, but Hannah knew he had believed her because he let her go and stood up straight. His fear of Hart was obvious, and Hannah decided to play that to her advantage. "He's waitin' for me now. But I can't remember where I'm to go?" The Tan whose pants were still bulging pointed towards the end of the corridor "Last room on the right" he said disappointed.

"Grand so!" Hannah answered and as she went to walk away she said coyly "If you hear him making any strange noises, don't disturb him. He likes what I do to him!"

Whatever the Tan imagined she would do to Hart, it made him swallow hard. "Okay" he replied his voice trembling slightly as he took in her body. Then covering his crotch with his hands he headed down the stairs. Hannah rolled her eyes in relief then buttoned up her blouse and without further delay, boldly entered Hart's room. Hannah had no idea what lay ahead.

The only furniture in the spacious bedroom was a large bed and an armchair that was heavily laden with many items of clothing, all of which seemed dirty. There were two people occupying the bed, one was without a doubt Hart, and the lamb going to the slaughter of Hart's desire for very young girls was most likely the prisoner. Hannah could not see clearly, but obviously she was putting up a fight. A scantily clad and exhausted looking Hart was doing his utmost to hold her down, but as soon as he would manage to restrain her in some way, she would fight off his hold and inflict whatever damage possible on him.

Hannah removed a knife from the holder strapped to her thigh and approached a little closer while the two remained oblivious to her presence. The pair battled silently for a victory, Hart to rape and the girl to escape. Despite the struggle, Hart seemed to be enjoying having to fight for his sexual satisfaction; it was all part of his need to exert control over others. Then with one almighty effort, she freed herself, and it was in that split second that Hannah recognized who was fighting for her life – it was Babby! Now Hart caught on to her again and managed to straddle her, a victory which was obviously arousing him further. Without a second's hesitation Hannah ran silently across the room, lunged on to the bed, grabbed Hart's head until it jolted back then slit his throat with one swift glide of her knife.

As the mass of blood flowed from Hart's veins, Hannah pushed him off the bed, reached down at a very shocked looking Babby, and helped her up. She was shivering violently and Hannah quickly picked up her clothes scattered about the bed area. Her friend hadn't uttered a word, and Hannah knew that whatever progress had been made at the hospital was long gone now. In fact, she wondered if this attack would be the death of Babby. She took the time to dress her properly and to comb her hair before retrieving Hart's pistol. Then without further ado, they walked out of the room, down the corridor and stairs and into the marble hallway. Not one Tan came out to patrol the area and Hannah opened the big oak doors and lead Babby to the safety of the church.

By the time Hannah and Babby entered the room next to the sacristy, the volunteers had learned of the four leaders deaths, and as predicted were vying for blood. Weary from all that had happened, she told them that Hart was dead and the others were all busy with the prostitutes, so retaliation could be carried out with the element of surprise. They all wanted to know how Hart had died, but Hannah felt no glory in recounting the details. Instead she explained to the men how getting inside wouldn't be too difficult if they approached stealthily. She left them to their devices and returned her focus on Babby, who was staring far off into space while holding a glass with a small amount of amber liquid in it. Father Dempsey frowned when he saw Hannah enter. "How in God's name did she end up like this again?" he asked hotly.

"I have no idea" Hannah replied slowly "I thought she was still in hospital. How the Tans captured her again, I have no idea!" Hannah removed the glass from Babby's hand, helped her out of the chair and told her gently she was bringing her home.

As the two women hobbled out of the church and on to the main road, the big house ablaze in the background, they were also setting off on a journey of healing that would be a lifetime in the making.

A month later a treaty was signed and the Tans were recalled to Britain. Ireland had its own government and home rule was finally established.

Note by Father Dempsey:

That was Hannah's story, and she recounted it exactly as she knew things to be. However there is something she never knew and this is the reason I have kept this journal apart from the others. I made a solemn promise never to reveal it to anyone. Should it ever see the light of day, it will be because the person it concerns has chosen to do so.

The man responsible for the deaths of the Jim, Peader, Barty and Matt and Babby's capture was Pa Doohan. He explained to me the happenings of that day when Hannah saved his life

After he left Hannah at the crossroads he was set upon by the Tans and brought to the Big House. Soon afterwards, as was the ritual when new prisoners were brought in, Hart began to beat him. Pa remembered the horrors that Hannah had been through when she was captured and found he did not possess the same strength and courage. Unable to endure that same treatment, Pa immediately began to tell them all that he knew; how he was very close to the leaders of the resistance and that he could provide them with useful information. Hart laughed out loud in disbelief, but when Pa told him he could walk straight onto Mulchair's farm without being shot and get the Mulchair boy's to immediately go and survey the Tans Head Quarters, he was released – somewhat. As promised, Pa went straight to the farm to tell the boys to survey the comings and goings of the Big House, which they did. When Pa left them in the courtyard and unknown to the boys, two Tans were watching their every move, one of which was Hart.

Once the Mulchair's were well out of sight Hart ordered him to reveal up everything else he knew. Giving up the lives of four men was not an easy thing to do, but when Hart pressed a sharp knife to his throat and threatened to kill him, Pa told them everything. Well almost. At first he only spoke of the men, but during his "information session" he let it slip about Hannah".

"Who?" Hart asked angrily "There is a fifth person and you never mentioned it." He began to beat him but stopped suddenly, his eyes glinting with cunning, his face dripping with sweat. "You know Paddy" he said grinning "all this information is going to make you a very popular man around here. But I have something that's going to make you even more popular". Hart reflected on this then spoke with an evil grin "that mangey house is yours when we're gone."

Pa was totally confused. Hart looked at one of his men and barked an order to go retrieve the deed from his office. The soldier hopped into the lorry and immediately departed; a short while later, with the deed in hand, Hart forced Pa to sign his name making him the next proprietor of The Big House. "That place is going to cause you much more pain than I can ever inflict on you."

Hart took Pa's hand then placed the deed in it. Pa refused to take it, but Hart raised his hand high, the knife loomed menacingly over him.

"Go up the road, for about three miles" Pa said flinching "in the field just past the abandoned dairy barn there's a cottage that cannot be seen from the road. There are many bushes around it, but go close enough and you will find Matt Mulchair, Jim, Peader O' Driscoll, and Barty. They are the four leaders.

"And the fifth?"

Pa swallowed hard. "She looks the least likely to be a leader but she is. Her name is Hannah Moore."

Why Pa did this I do not know, especially to an already deeply wounded child such as Hannah. I can only imagine his fear of being tortured made him reveal the name of the person who had saved his life only hours earlier. Anyway a few days after the night Hart was killed, Pa left for America. He would never have been able to live in the village if people found out his responsibility for the four deaths. Plus, he could never explain how he ended up with the deed to the Tan's H.Q. He wanted nothing to do with the deed, so he had it transferred in my name, and I became the proprietor. Unknown to Pa, there was some land nearby that came with the house, which I sold and sent that money on to Pa to help get him settled in America. In the meantime, he had already become considerably wealthy because his father left him everything after selling their land before he died. Pa never told anybody he had all this money, and used none for himself. He confided in me that from the episode with Hart onward, he had been dying inside. He lived with enormous regret and shame for what he did, and tried to make amends by discreetly helping, financially, the people affected by the deaths he caused that night. The Mulchair boys will discover in a few years' time that they had a plot of land left to them by their father, but in reality it was I who did that on Pa's instruction. Even Babby's treatment will always be paid for by a generous benefactor, which will appear to be from the Volunteers. While Pa was not responsible for Babby's abduction (she had been hauled into the truck when out walking near her mother's house. Apparently Hart could not resist her youthfulness) he knew that Hannah had killed Hart to save her.

Hannah received money without her ever knowing whom it came from, but like Babby, thought it was from The Volunteers. Hannah once talked about the money she was receiving, but said she associated it with a time in her life best forgotten. I advised her to keep it for someone who might need it someday, and she seemed happy with that. Hannah did use the wonderful gift Peader O' Driscoll gave her- the General shop and Tea House. In his last will and testament which he gave to the doctor on the day he died, he asked that Hannah inherit what Maura loved best. She set up home there and reopened the tea house that she renamed Maura's Tea House in memory of the lovely woman that ran the place.

She took the Mulchair boys under her roof and maternal wing and had them going to school and helping around the shop. They are, as I write thriving in their new environment.

Father Dempsey CC.

Chapter 12. Winds of Change

Lucy closed the priest's journal and looked at Kevin. Both were astounded by what they had read, but neither understood what Terry Doohan had to do with all of this. The clock read 2.15 a.m.; exhausted they retired to bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Early the next morning, a knock on the door made Lucy bolt up out of bed; she looked around feeling very dazed and disoriented no longer sure of where she was or what woke her. Another knock rasped on the door, and she remembered why she was in the boat house and what had woken her. She headed to the window but could see nobody out on the jetty. Grabbing a broom she opened the door to find Terry Doohan standing in front of her. Panic and fear seized her and she went to slam the door, but stopped when a young teenage girl appeared from behind him. It was then that it dawned on her that this was not Terry, but his twin Tony Doohan and his daughter, Jen.

"May I come in Miss Courtney" he asked politely, in what Lucy thought was a deep but gentle voice.

Lucy could feel he was not a threatening person, but just the resemblance to his brother was enough to make her feel like she wanted to vomit.

"Why are you here?" she asked coldly.

"I need to talk to you. This won't take long – I promise."

Lucy thought that he would hardly exert revenge on her with his daughter present, so she stepped aside and allowed them in.

Kevin awoke and reacted in much the same way as Lucy when he saw Tony Doohan standing in his living room, but Tony's gentle demeanour put him at ease. When they were all seated on the couch, Lucy sat opposite Tony and looked him in the eye, even though it was an extremely difficult thing to do.

"Thank you for seeing us so early" he said softly which prompted Lucy to look at the clock on the table beside where he was sitting; it was five thirty in the morning.

"I wanted to talk to you" he began "but because no contact is allowed before the court case, I couldn't reach you. I am sorry my brother harmed you so horribly. Had I known what was going on, I would have intervened and sought help for him. He was going off the track for a while, but the last eight months he was particularly strange. After his wife died some years ago, I thought he would go insane on the drink; it was a rough time but he came through and seemed fine. In fact I was sure he had gotten over his loss completely, but I was wrong.

"Are you saying you knew he wanted to kill me?" she asked shocked.

"Not at all!" he exclaimed. "All I'm saying is that the psychological change that I had seen in him after his wife died returned eight months ago, but somehow it seemed worse."

Lucy looked from Tony to Jen, but could not understand why they were here telling her this; she began to feel impatient and wanted them to leave. "Well, I appreciate you trying to explain your brother's actions...."

"He hasn't finished" Jen interrupted "there's more he needs to explain."

"When Pa first became ill with his leg, he underwent surgery to have a plastic vein replace a damaged one. Anyway, as you can imagine it was a very painful procedure that required he have large doses of morphine, the side effects of which made him wander in and out of reality. One day while Terry was visiting him, Pa was ramaishing about a journal. He said where he had hidden it and that nobody must ever find it. At first Terry thought it was just the medication, but then curiosity got the better of him and he went to where Pa said he had hid the journal and discovered that and many other things.

"Like what?" Kevin asked sounding more awake than he looked.

"Well, he found bank documents that showed he had transferred a large sum of money to Hannah's bank account just after moving to America. He only spent a few years there, in Boston I believe, but when he returned to Ireland, he transferred another large sum to Hannah and another woman named Babby. Despite this, his bank balance showed how very wealthy he still was, yet he lived very modestly, in poverty really.

After he married, he opened up the butcher's in Kilrush, settled down, had myself and Terry but continued to wire money to Hannah from time to time. When Terry discovered that Pa had this amount of wealth and yet never came forward to help finance Terry's sick wife going to America for experimental treatment, he seemed to just go off the deep end. At first he just seemed to blame Pa for her death, but it soon became much more. I didn't realize just how much though. What I do know is that he wanted to find out who the benefactor was; it took some time, but he eventually found out that it was you.

"What!" Lucy exclaimed. "You can't be serious. Why would he do that? It just doesn't make sense, he didn't even know of me."

"Pa knew Hannah was raising a granddaughter alone because he went to his solicitor and asked him to amend the will for you to become the benefactor of the continuing finances he intended for Hannah. Anyway by that time I believe she had just died and he must have followed Pa to the wake. I honestly cannot tell you why he followed you around leaving you notes, maybe for you to discover that he should have been the benefactor, I cannot say. But I do know this - he did not act alone – he had help."

"He had help!" Lucy exclaimed. "Who helped him?" She managed to ask calmly, but inside she was already imagining someone still out there who wanted her dead.

"He's in custody at the moment down in Kilrush. His name is Breen, a friend of Terry's. He was the one who told Terry where you were staying in Kilrush the night you got attacked in the bathroom. He works in the pub and had been keeping an eye out for you for Terry, but he didn't realize how dangerous Terry's motives were until the attack, that's when he stopped helping him in any way."

Lucy remembered the face of Breen at the butchers the first day she went to see Pa, but had not recognized it was him behind the bar.

"The one thing that sent Terry completely overboard" Tony continued "was that Pa left you as sole benefactor of all his possessions....." Tony seemed to hesitate a moment "...even the butchers!"

"But why? Lucy asked perturbed "I don't understand why would he deny his own children the fruits of his labours, yet give them so easily to a stranger?"

"Because he never stopped carrying the shame of his actions that day."

All eyes turned to Kevin who had just spoken. "It's all in the journal that Terry found."

"What journal?" Tony asked.

Kevin explained the whole story about Pa, the Tans, Fr. Dempsey's journal and the connection to Hannah. When he had finished Tony seemed deflated "but anyone would talk under fear of torture. Sure even specially trained hardened soldiers will talk under torture, or fear of it."

Kevin continued "maybe the fact that Hannah had endured torture that he couldn't, in addition to saving his life was just too much for him to carry. He spent his life making reparations for that one day".

"I just wish he had told us about it" Tony said standing up "it's not like we wouldn't have understood, or thought any less of him. I mean they were tough times back then. Anyway, I prefer to hear about this than to continue thinking he had been in love with Hannah."

Hannah and Kevin briefly glanced at one another and Lucy answered "Not at all." Tony nodded his head in understanding then removed a letter from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

"What's that?" she asked taking the letter slowly.

"It's a notice from the solicitor declaring you as the proprietor of Doohan's Butcher's."

Lucy opened it and took her time reading through the lawyer's jargon; the phrase declaring her as the owner was crystal clear, Pa really had left it to her. "I don't want the butcher's" Lucy said looking up at Tony and giving back the letter. "It's not mine, it's yours. You've been there all your life; you've worked there since you were children, it is your birthright."

"Well, that may be, but it's yours now" he said gently as he put the letter on the table. "Anyway, I came here to tell you that I believe Terry acted the way he did because he wanted you to be punished for his wife dying, he did not want you to inherit the shop, and finally, because he believed Pa loved your grandmother and you more than his own sons.

Lucy was stunned, embarrassed even. "I'm so sorry" she said softly "I had no idea any of this was happening."

"Well, you couldn't" he sighed. "So, on his behalf, I'm very sorry that he hurt you, those close to you, especially the loss of your good friend. It was an unspeakable act." Then turning to Kevin, Tony said "I apologize for what he did to you too. I know you're a good Guard who was only trying to protect Lucy." He reached out to shake Kevin's hand.

Tony's honesty was brutally raw; he wanted to right the wrongs of his brother. Kevin saw through this and stuck out his hand to shake Tony's.

"Thank you for seeing us" he said again then turned and walked out the door with his daughter Jen. As Jen crossed the jetty and walked to the car Lucy called to Tony. "I heard Jen was ill; is she okay now?"

He glanced down at his shoes as if deciding whether to answer. "She's Terry's daughter, you know. My wife and I raised her as our own because Terry was not coping well. Ah we had a few hurdles to get over, but we settled down fine the three of us. Now Jen knows all this – we decided to tell her from an early age – and we'll always answer any questions about her parents. But what I'm finding far more difficulty with is.....is telling her that her mother's genes are setting out to make her sick the same way. So in light of the information you have on how her mother died, I'm sure you know what that means."

Lucy nodded realizing the long and difficult road that lay ahead for one so young.

"Will chemo do it?"

His chin wobbled slightly with the effort of holding back his pain and fear. "Please God."

As she watched them drive away, Lucy turned to Kevin and said "I'm going back to Limerick today!"

Three months later on a cold and blustery November afternoon Lucy stood in the center of Kilrush's Market Square. She was looking across at the comings and goings of Doohan's Butcher's; it appeared as busy as the first time she saw the place. Crossing the road she glanced down at the letter in her hand and smiled. What she was about to do was a long time in the making, but everything had finally been settled and this was the moment she had been waiting for. From that day on the boat Tony and his family knew she had contested being proprietor of the butchers, and told them it was theirs to keep, this letter was making it official.

This was a moment she would have loved to share with Kevin, but he had been transferred to Dublin as part of his promotion to detective – he finally got what he wanted.

Lucy had started a linguistics course at Limerick University, and while it wasn't her first choice of career it was the only discipline of interest to her. They said their goodbye's and promises had been made to see each other on weekends, but soon their lives became too busy to take time away for the love-making they had once yearned for. Communications between them had, at times been awkward, but as the realization set in that friendship was where their common enjoyment lay, their interactions once again became frequent. In a few days they would be meeting for a drink and supper.

As Lucy stepped in behind the people crowding to buy their meat, she noticed that nothing had changed much. Tony Doohan was busily serving a fussy customer and what appeared to be a new apprentice was working alongside him - it took a moment for her to recognize him as Breen, Terry's accomplice. She fought the urge to bolt out of there; after all she had something important to finish here.

When Tony spotted her in the crowd, he called out to her "Well if it isn't Lucy Courtney herself." He said with an outstretched arm. "Come on around here till I get you a cuppa tea." Some of the ladies in the crowd started to complain, but he told them not fear he'd be back while the kettle was boiling. "I take two sugars, no milk Tony" one woman called out jokingly "and Betty here wants hers black."

Tony laughed and turned to Breen "are you not writing that down?" he said looking annoyed. The young man seemed at a loss, he thought he was serving meat not making tea. He clumsily took out a note book from his bloodied apron and removed a pencil from behind his ear then wrote down what the ladies asked for. The howls of laughter made him realize he'd been had, and he went back somewhat sullenly to serving the customers.

"Good to see you again, Lucy." Tony said as he ushered her into the kitchen. The place had changed considerably since she first had a cup of tea with Pa. A new table and chairs replaced the ancient Formica one and the floor was covered with terracotta coloured ceramic tiles; several modern appliances were added, even the kettle was brand new. A small bunch of wild flowers stood in a simple glass vase in the center of the table, adding a final compliment to the entire place.

Lucy smiled, "you too Tony" she said looking around. "The kitchen is beautiful."

With his hands placed low on his hips he glanced around and nodded his approval "Kate and Jen did all the work on this place after Pa passed on. They had been at him to do it for ages, but he never wanted anything. The man lived as if he owned nothing."

They were silent for a moment each contemplating the events that made Pa the kind of man he was. Lucy handed Tony the letter "I wanted to do this much sooner, but there was quite a bit of red tape to get around, so sorry for the delay."

"What is this?" he asked taking the letter she offered.

"What is rightfully yours; for you and your family."

Tony opened the letter, removed the pages and began reading it silently; as the words began to sink in his eyes widened, his mouth opened and he looked at Lucy in amazement. "This is unbelievable!!!" He exclaimed.

"What's unbelievable?" Kate asked entering the kitchen. Tony's wife had just walked into the kitchen and overheard her husband's comment. "Lucy!" she said "lovely to see you again."

Lucy smiled and said hello to Kate just as Tony moved towards his wife while pointing at the letter in his hands "Kate! Lucy is reneging completely on Pa's will – not just the shop!!! Kate and Tony hugged Lucy with gratitude, but she felt that they shouldn't have had to experience the stress of losing their livelihood in the first place. When they broke away, Tony looked at the remaining papers and found the check, disbelief written across his face. He looked directly at Lucy "this is so much money, why? I don't understand."

"This is what Pa would have given to his own family if he hadn't felt such shame. It was never mine or Hannah's. It's was always yours.

Jen came out of the room, her white scalp covered with a pink bandana.

"Hi Jen" Lucy said giving her a hug "you look great!"

Jen beamed and said her chemo had ended last week and that her hair was going to start growing back.

"Well when your hair is exactly the length you want it, I'm taking you to the hair salon for some wild streaks. How's that?"

Jen looked to her parents and got their approval, which Lucy hadn't even contemplated seeking. "Of course, Mom and Dad have to be okay with this!!"

"We are" they replied in unison.

Lucy decided not to linger and quickly said goodbye to them all. As she walked out through the busy shop, Breen uttered a quiet apology to her, which she acknowledged with a slight nod then wandered out to the Market Square. The sun shone on her face and she breathed in the wonderful fresh air before heading to her car.

What she had given back to the Doohan's basically left her as good as broke, but she had a roof over her head. Hannah's house was now her own, and with what she expected to get for the house in Ridgewood Crescent, she was going to be fine until she had a regular job - whatever that would be. As for the journal, with Tony's agreement, Lucy had placed it in the glass case in Kilrush library. Pa's shame lived in his heart, but Hannah's heroic acts were going to be in the annals of history.

*

Mise Eire (I Am Ireland)•

by Padraic Pearse 1912

I am Ireland:

I am older than the Old Woman of Beare.

Great my glory:

I that bore Cuchulainn the valiant.

Great my shame:

My own children that sold their mother.

I am Ireland:

I am lonelier than the Old Woman of Beare.

####

Thank you for reading Untold Rage. I would be delighted to receive your comments at

ger_conlan@hotmail.ca

Acknowledgements:

Many, many thanks to Garda John Leahy of Henry Street Garda station in Limerick for taking the time to provide so many details for Kevin's character as well as letting me have access to the entire Garda station, nooks and crannies included. Your kindness and patience is seared to memory for as long as my mind has recall ability.

Thanks to Brendan Breen, proprietor of The Windmill Pub and great Guinness pourer who graciously accepted to let me use his establishment as a haven for Kevin and Lucy. So much inspiration came from the many nights of great music and craic I had there.

To my brothers Michael and Liam and my sister Anne for putting up with my need to visit countless villages on Ireland's West coast – I have precious memories of our time together. Thanks for not tossing me off the Cliffs of Moher.

To my sons Émile and Elliot who graciously reminded me of the foul language peppered throughout the story. I cannot look back on those times without smiling.

To my dear friends who provided valuable feedback and helped me see errors where I could not see them. Jean, Anne, Doris, Ben and Ivy –thanks so much. Keith, your contribution on the way to Florida still makes me laugh. I love you all so dearly.

Ger Conlan

Now here's a special preview of the next story involving Lucy Courtney

Ripe Harvest

available soon

Chapter 1

The thick-set woman muttered to herself as she waddled awkwardly but with quiet determination up the eight steps leading to the entrance of Limerick's Henry Street Garda station. Beads of dampness glistened on her porcelain skinned forehead catching strands of soft black curls in the moisture. The exceptionally warm summer evening, a rarity in Ireland which had the whole country in a state of sunburned bliss, was a contributing factor to her perspiring so much. In essence the main culprit of her excessive 'glowing' was the surplus weight she now carried. There was a time, not so long ago she could have sprinted up these steps in a matter of seconds. Well, sprinted was probably an exaggeration, she was no athlete. Vaulted, no......bound, no.... cleared? Nope...all too superhero-ish.......dashed? Yes, but it's more a kind of slow motion dash which would appropriately describe her level of fitness. Still, reduced mobility, while inconvenient, was the very least of her worries. Clutched tightly in her hand was a recent photo of a young woman, and reason for this trip.

Once at the top step she paused to catch her breath all the while gently patting her massively pregnant tummy. "We will find her little one" she said softly "and when we do, I will give her a piece of my mind..........after I give her a wiggin'....and hug her......very tightly."

Inside the bustling police station, she reluctantly joined the inebriated, the rowdy and all manner of troubled people whose circumstances had culminated in them rubbing elbows in the narrow confines of the standing-only waiting area. Everyone faced the same direction towards a waist-high short wooden counter staffed by two gardai. She shuffled slowly forward trying desperately to ignore the odor of hygiene deficient bodies, alcohol soaked breath and general inner-city decay. It was six thirty in the evening and obviously rush hour for the Boys in Blue. She should have done this earlier in the day, but that would have meant deviating too far from the plan. A young man in a sleeveless tank stretched languorously beside her raising both arms over his head thereby freeing days old sweat from its hairy confines and sending a message to her olfactory senses that all stomach contents must be ejected. Using silent whispers to the vomit Gods to repel the large ball of bile rising in her throat, she discreetly removed a plastic bag from her handbag should her supplications be ignored. Nausea and vomiting had been popping up at frequent yet unpredictable intervals since about two and a half months into the pregnancy. Morning sickness, or Martini sickness as it was now named - because it was an Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere occurrence - had become a permanent feature of her expectant state. People, it seemed, reacted differently to seeing a pregnant woman vomiting in public depending what time of day it was. Morning or afternoon expulsions usually drew the odd sympathetic soul to ask 'everythin all right love? Or 'it'll be over before you know it'. Night time, however, was a different kettle of fish as they say. Munificence and understanding were sent packing replaced by ignorance and interference. A few weeks earlier a two a.m. craving for French fries lead her to the local greasy chipper where she happily went through a freshly made batch of thick-cut chips generously doused in malt vinegar. But the temporary ecstasy of having fulfilled a craving was short lived when she threw the whole lot up in front of the après-nightclub crowd. Most people just looked on in disgust, but one young inebriated girl did manage to stagger over to tell her to give up the shaggin' booze and get the child tested for feetleakols imdrum, or as she eventually understood to be fetal alcohol syndrome.

There was no access to toilet facilities in the police station's waiting area, meaning nowhere to go only forward toward the counter or exit entirely, which would mean losing her place. She swallowed hard hoping to control the excess saliva inner churnings. Suddenly something to the left caught her eye. Out of nowhere the hairy armpit young, and fairly inebriated, man leaned in dangerously close and exhaled the words 'two bob'ill a.'

Waving away the putrid odor of sour beer and stinky armpit, she declined his request with a firm shake of her head all the while trying to hide the gag reflex which shot to her throat. He was asking for money - two bob which was the slang for an old shilling. The currency went out of circulation decades earlier but the expression survived. The words will you was amputated to 'ill a.'

His deep frown and puzzled gaze told her the refusal had not registered. He stumbled slightly, raised a crooked finger and went to speak again. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed she was almost at the top of the queue, but her stomach would not survive another whiff if he uttered a syllable. 'IS ANYONE HERE TO REPORT A MISSING PERSON?'

The rumble of chattering ceased and all eyes turned towards her. The two people in front of her stepped aside beckoning her to take their place 'Go on love' a toothless woman said kindly. 'I'm only here to report a stolen wheelie bin.'

A pointed pen held between two fingers summoned her authoritatively to the wooden counter. She exhaled discreetly with relief, thanking the people who had allowed her to pass and followed the fingers obediently.

"Name?" The young, tired looking officer asked robotically after hearing the reason for her visit.

"Mags Thompson" she replied with a clear and well-articulated tone reflecting years of elocution lessons imposed by her upper-middle class family. By the time she had turned twelve the futility of the lessons caused her to rebel somewhat. Electrocution lessons Mags had brazenly called them once to her mother; the cost of that folly was being signed up for another year of courses in addition to attending intensive etiquette class. The fun she had missed out on just to end up speaking and acting like a cast-off from My Fair Lady had been costly. Friends had been few and far between. It wasn't until she finished high school that life became more normal, for a while at least.

Her current state, however, reflected nothing of that privileged background. She was perspiring heavily from a mixture of profound worry, stress and the exertion of remaining upright for forty minutes. Painful pins and needles stung her thighs, while damp spread along the back of her pink chiffon designer top.

"Mags?" he reiterated.

"Well it's short for Mawrgret," she said rolling her eyes "but if you write Mawrgret Thompson nobody will know it's me!"

As the officer proceeded to transcribe the information, Mags glanced furtively to the right. The drunk man had extracted a pile of crumpled papers from the pocket of his over-sized jogging pants - which she was certain had never served their real purpose - and was examining them with surgical precision. It was clearly testing the patience of the second officer trying to decipher the reason for the visit. Probably trying to get out of paying a fine Mags thought. In fact of all the people waiting to be served she hoped their troubles were not as grave as hers. In fact, she was sure they couldn't be any worse.

Sweat trickled along her cheeks towards the edge of either jaw where it dripped lightly onto her chest. There wasn't a tissue in sight so she used her hands to wipe the excess moisture from her entire face including her eyes, completely forgetting about the mascara hurriedly applied hours earlier.

"Grand then, Mags Thompson it is" the officer said putting the name on the report with the same pride as Jerome having completed the Vulgate. When he turned his attention back to the woman he found her look had gone from disheveled to raccoon-like. "Ahm....right.........and the person you're reporting missing is your sister, Ciara Madden?"

"Correct!" Mags said frustrated at the slow pace through which they were getting through this. She really needed to pee.

'But you're Thompson?'

'Née Madden.'

He nodded silently while taking in her pale blue eyes which darted nervously about, her full cheeks flushed. "Last seen?"

"Four days ago, exactly. So it's well past the mandatory forty eight hours to commence a search."

The officer was struck by these words and looked intently at this strange woman. Through the smeared eyes, he recognized the anxious expression having seen it so many times before. Yet he wondered how she was aware of this standard course of action. "You seem to be familiar with our procedure on missing persons."

"I am," she exhaled after a hesitant pause.

"So you know someone who was missing before?"

A loud gulp fell in her throat. "I do."

"Would I be right then in thinking that your sister has gone missing on a previous occasion?"

"You would."

"Recently?"

Mags sighed heavily "it was years ago when she was only a teenager! She isn't anything like she used to be. She is a grown woman now, whose idea of having fun by the way is watching British comedies on DVD! I mean I just don't get how the Knights who say Ni can be funny after the fortieth time. Plus she dresses like bloody Maria Von Trap when she used to look a sexy spice girl!"

The nod and accompanying cynical look told her Ciara's file would be opened and scrutinized leading them to believe she had gone back to being a runaway.

"Wait here please, Ms. Thompson, I'll be back shortly."

Less than an hour later Mags exited the station fuming not only over the archaic attitude to her situation, but to the awful state she was in when finally catching a glimpse of herself in their the toilet facilities. She looked ridiculous. No wonder they didn't take her pleadings to heart. While she tried to convince them of the urgency in finding Ciara they were questioning the possibility that her sibling had chosen to leave. They even suggested she had been unable to tell her over-protective sister about an upcoming departure for fear of disapproval. Worst of all, they didn't appear to be in any particular hurry to even start enquiries. Everything she said had fallen on deaf ears. They tried to convince her that this sort of thing was not unusual behavior for a legally adult woman.

Mags couldn't deny that Ciara's teenage years had passed more tumultuously than most and for that she was forever branded a trouble-making junkie, when nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, her younger sister had become the complete opposite. Mags would even describe her as being another person entirely. The conservative dress had replaced the hard core Goth menagerie; a penchant for anarchy was left behind for devotion to prayers and binges that went on for days at a time were discarded for a strict almost punitive diet. In fact, Ciara displayed a total disinterest in general social life and friends making her a virtual recluse. Not that Mags wasn't grateful that Ciara remained on the band wagon. God knows it must be a daily struggle to stay clean and sober but admittedly Mags could see there was no fun in the lifestyle her sister chose to lead. The expression all or nothing came to mind with no happy medium to balance things out. Perhaps there could be no other option to fighting her addictions. Still she would take austere Ciara over wild Ciara any day. Mags honestly didn't know if she could handle seeing a relapse to the old lifestyle. Those terrible years were best forgotten.

Mags had grown so used to calm, caring and dutiful Ciara who kept in regular contact throughout the day that her absence was most unsettling.

Pausing at the bottom of the eight steps, Mags eased herself down onto the stone slab and took in a long deep breath. The warm evening air carried a heavenly breeze which helped lift the nausea, but not the heartache. Thinking in terms of a theatre play, Mags foresaw the upcoming delivery as a huge Broadway production and with only a week before opening-night a main cast member had gone MIA. But there was no understudy to replace Ciara, not that anyone could.

A deep sense of fear bore through the very fiber of her being carrying with it the realization that bringing this baby into the world was not something she could get through alone. It was insurmountable.

Disturbing images of what state Ciara could be in pierced her heart. Her hands gripped tightly on both sides of her hair as waves of anguish pounded her chest. "Where are you Sis?" she called out softly pleading to the night sky. 'Come back please, I just can't do this without you.'

In their dysfunctional family where turmoil was a daily occurrence, Mags was always strong and even keeled - the crutch upon which others leaned. With a constantly absent father, they were left to the mercy of a mother who could be violent one minute and docile the next. Often she would take to the bed for days at a time and never failed to throw off the usual threat to Mags before locking herself away in the bedroom 'nothing better happen to that child.' Her stomach would contract into knots at those words. Ciara was that child and dutiful Mags stood guard over her until their mother died five years earlier. By then Ciara was a frequent runaway, a drug user and known to police. Their father had just been admitted to a long-term care facility with advanced Alzheimer's disease. Through it all everyone had depended on Mags to keep things together. And she did, no matter how tough things were; she had been strong until the other night.

When Ciara failed to return Sunday night from the weekend getaway to Dublin, Mags was not concerned. At twenty-two years of age, a girl was entitled to go about things in her own private way. Thinking along more rational lines, Mags believed Ciara wanted to prolong her stay but by Wednesday night concern quickly became worry and worry became dread. Yet reporting Ciara as a missing person beforehand would not have instigated a police search. Waiting beyond the allotted time was, she believed, the best way to approach the issue.

Mags had not remained idle though and contacted everyone she knew, none of whom were Ciara's friends per say as she did not have any. The general reaction was of understanding and hope for her safe return, but at the same time Mags detected underpinnings of doubt about recidivism. They could think what they bloody well wanted Mags had whispered Ciara has not returned to her old ways of that she was certain. Still, three days had passed and not a sign of her returning.

The hard concrete step was beginning to numb her bum so she heaved herself upright. Taking out her mobile from her handbag she tried calling Ciara for the millionth time. It went straight to voice mail as it had every other time.

'Fuck it!!!!' she uttered through gritted teeth. Mags' mother would turn in her grave if she heard her children using language like that. The woman abhorred anything remotely common-sounding. She was obsessive when it came to appearances and etiquette. The girls had to be dressed perfectly; their large house had to be perfectly spotless at all times both inside and out. It was a nightmare for Mags to keep up appearances. The only good their mother managed to achieve for her daughters was to bequeath them the family home.

Mags redialed Ciara's number again but got no answer. 'Just come home Ciara – Please' she implored. Ending the call she swore under her breath and immediately the deceased mother's voice popped into her head admonishing the use of bad language. Mags flipped the phone shut and jeered "well you know whash? I couldn't give a rrats hoale Ma" she taunted in the flattest Limerick accent so "aha- fuckin- aha." Moments later she burst into sobs. She was the only person on the face of the earth whose mother continued to drive their child insane posthumously. It was getting so hard to keep it together. Her head felt it would burst. Maybe she was going crazy. Just then two elderly ladies paused and looking with pity upon the obviously distraught woman asked if she was alright. Assuring them all was well she heaved up off the steps then waddled away up the street to where the car was parked.

The strain of recent events was beginning to take its toll on Mags not only mentally but physically. Her blood pressure was far higher than normal and her limbs were swelling considerably with each passing day. Medical appointments were put aside to focus on finding her sister, and this disregard seemed to have her gynecologist concerned enough to have left several authoritative messages on her mobile. "You are borderline pre-eclamptic Mags and you must go to the hospital immediately, both for yours and the baby's sake. This is a very, very serious condition which must not be ignored." And she would go to hospital, just as soon as she found Ciara.

As Mags shifted awkwardly behind the wheel of her ever-shrinking car, she took a sudden sharp intake of breath as the baby kicked hard. "Another goal by star rugby player Thompson" she announced while starting the engine. A quick check in the rear-view mirror to wipe away the tears was followed by a sharp shake of the head to pull herself together. "Right! The show must go on.'

Cradling her tummy she said smiling 'nine days and counting little one, and don't you worry aunty Ciara will be there to say hello; she's probably just off......trying to enter some convent or other."

Feeling, weary, grimy and plain fed-up Mags merged into Henry Street's one-way traffic with the intention of going home to shower and change. The summer sky had turned a dark twilight as it gave way to the night. By some miracle another rain-free night was forecast. If Ciara had somehow become lost again, at least she wouldn't be cold and soaking wet; starving maybe, but not cold, wet and starving.

After passing the Franciscan church near Roches street Mags took a sharp left for Sarsfield Bridge and the adjoining Ennis Road instead of continuing straight on to join the Dublin road to head home. A visit to Ciara's old haunts was deemed necessary at this point just in case the temptation of black-out drinking and drugs was too hard to resist. During those wilder years her sister had a few friends or drinking buddies on the Ennis Road. Canvassing their homes was the plan then she'd make her way to the city center's trendy pubs, then the seedier places and finally, the dark alleys.

Looking back a few months earlier, Mags had little inclination of the trouble that lay ahead. Everything currently hitting the fan started with Tim leaving her high and dry a month ago.

During those first few weeks she couldn't function. Tim had always been there for her from the moment they first met. It was at Helen Connolly's eighteenth birthday party – in St-John's Pavilion no less. The only people who could get a reservation at the Pavilion back then was a government blood drive and the best up and coming band out there. Still Helen's father and used car salesman - Cash Connolly – as he was known, managed to secure the hall and there began a magical night for Mags. Helen was crazy for Tim and told everyone she was going to 'have him' that night. Well Tim had other plans and danced with Mags all night with not so much as a glace toward a very pissed off Miss Connolly. Mags and Tim walked out of that hall like a couple and there began their couple hood. Or pseudo-magical marriage as Mags now called it.

A decade on it turned she discovered Tim was afraid to be the father he had long sought to become. It was simply unfathomable how the well-educated man she had known and loved for well over a decade could just walk away so callously. There was no argument, no big fight – nothing – but a silent parting.

Of course they had their problems like every other couple had, but to simply walk away like a little boy afraid to face his responsibilities was distressing to the say the least. He had given no news whatsoever as to where he was. "Off in bloody Never, Never land" she murmured while driving across the calm waters of the River Shannon "wherever that is - probably next to an effin convent."

*

The first ring of the telephone jolted her from a deep, restful sleep, momentarily sending her into confusion. She squinted at the illuminated red digits of the bedside clock and rolled her eyes. Four twenty in the morning –so much for having a lie in!! By the time the second ring sounded Lucy Courtney had sat upright all the while mentally canceling her first real day off in three months.

'Hello' she said sharply, sounding far more alert than she felt. The desire to ask 'who the hell is calling at this hour' was suppressed as the voice of reason urged her to hear the caller out.

'Issam there?' the slurred jocular tone asked before burping loudly. The raucous chorus in the background erased any doubt as to who was on the other end of the line.

'Fergus' she stated morosely more as a form of recognition than a greeting. Her eyes glanced to the figure sleeping soundly by her side and a deep line formed in the middle of her brow. Once again he had managed to steal prime bed space during the night leaving her the luxurious edge of the mattress. No wonder her right side ached.

'Euh Lucy? Fergus called down the line 'have ya fallen asleep there?'

She refrained from telling the best friend of her bed partner that thanks to his call she was anything but sleepy.

'No' she stated in a sigh 'hang on. I'll get ready.'

Trying to wake a man out of a state of unconsciousness most could only ever experience through a general anesthetic was not easy. She stifled a yawn then asked Fergus, 'Which one is it this time?'

The piercing twang of an electric guitar roared down the line. Fergus' voice screamed 'Black Dog baby, Black Dog!!!!!'

'Grand' Lucy continued with a bored tone all the while setting the volume of the receiver to maximum level then pressed speaker. She turned over then reached across and placed it against Sam Dougherty's ear. The blast of the first screeching chord was held for a long moment filling the room with a high pitched timbre which did not succeed in budging her bed-fellow. Fergus broke into song. Well, singing isn't how it should be described, caterwauling would be more accurate. The man had talent as a guitar player but not when it came to vocals. Sam would always say Fergus could wake the dead when he'd start.

Sam and Fergus were childhood friends and now newly graduated students from Limerick University. They were embarking on a three month 'tour' of Europe where they had managed to find a few gigs in various Irish pubs. The duo was immensely popular on campus for their performances at the local student pub, where a few nights a week they belted out renditions of songs from artists like Cat Stevens, Simon and Garfunkel, Bob Dylan and more.

Fergus' love of the electric guitar and rock hits from the seventies occurred in his teenage years but knew no success of any kind. Sam convinced him to go back to the acoustic guitar and play more in the folk genre, which Fergus did, albeit reluctantly. His electric guitar was kept as an alarm clock for Sam.

Lucy was still holding the phone next to his ear when Sam bolted straight up. The shoulder length shaggy blond hair, toned body and blue eyes set in boyish features gave him a certain charm she had found so irresistible in the beginning. He gave her a momentary look of confusion followed by a thumbs-up to the phone and a loud thanks to Fergus 'ye can shag off now. I'm awake!'

As Lucy replaced the phone on the hook she felt Sam's strong arms around her naked body. 'You have a plane to catch,' she said pushing him away.

'Lucy' he scowled, 'I won't see you for three months!'

She didn't say it would be a great relief, but that's exactly how she felt. Sam wasn't a bad guy but had become too egocentric for her liking. Maybe he had always been high maintenance she just hadn't seen it until later into the relationship.

Their meeting was almost cliché; a folk singer sees girl in audience, catches her eye, dedicates a few songs to her, she's a little drunk, feels special and agrees to go on a date with the singer. Fast forward a year and all she could say was they had nothing more than a non-committal routine of sorts where the sex was nice but there was nothing tying them together emotionally. Nobody was to blame for the way things turned out. They just allowed a convenience of sorts to develop. His trip to Europe was what she needed to bring things to an end.

'Sam, I've been thinking........'

'I'm starving Luce' he muttered sleepily 'any chance you'd put on a fry.'

'You'll have time to make yourself a fry'

'I know! But it always tastes better if you make it for me.' He turned over on his side all the while taking what was left of the covers. 'Go on love will ya and make it for me?'

'The place will be stinking of grease!'

'Yeah, but that perfume you wear would overpower a horse. Masks everything!'

Her mouth opened agape at this insult to Dior. How could walking into one spritz mist possibly create the fog he was referring to? She was tempted to list his umpteen annoying habits but decided it wasn't worth the bother. Instead, she proceeded with the decision she had taken some weeks earlier. 'Sam, I really don't think we should be together anymore..........'

'Luce!' he exclaimed turning brusquely to face her with an expression of alarm. 'What are you talking about?'

His sudden intensity was making her feel uncomfortable. 'I just feel.........that we're not right for each other anymore.'

'You're breaking up with me!!!' incredulity written across his face 'because I asked you to make me a fry!!!'

'It has nothing to do with.....'

'.....and on the morning I'm leaving on a European Tour?'

'You've got three gigs in two pubs. I wouldn't consider that a tour, per se.'

Sam was clearly insulted. 'They're the confirmed gigs, but we have offers for others, you know that.'

'Look, I'm happy you're getting this opportunity but I don't feel we should.....'

'God Luce – you can be such a cold hearted bitch at times!'

That comment stung. 'Sam, you had better leave now!'

He was about to say something when the phone rang again. Knowing it was Fergus she picked it up and snapped 'he's awake, okay!!'

"Lucy?" the woman's voice asked.

Puzzled, Lucy checked the caller ID and saw the name Mags Thompson. 'Mags!!' She gasped, something must be really wrong! "Mags, I'm sorry. I thought it was Fergus calling back. Are you all right? What's wrong?"

'I'm just outside Luce,' came the weary voice "I saw your car and thought....can I come in?"

"Out.....outside the house?" Lucy was really concerned now "goodness, yes of course, come on in". She pulled back the covers and bolted out of bed, ignoring Sam's ramblings about a lift to the airport then promptly threw on a yoga pants and a fleece hoody before dashing downstairs.

It had been at least four months since Lucy had seen Mags, and that realization brought with it heavy pangs of guilt. But the lack of communication was not entirely due to a heavy study schedule and the intermittent company of a bed-friend, Lucy had deliberately taken a step back from Mags' because of on-going tensions between them. She had preferred to put it down to respective changes in lifestyles, or maybe even something as tired as raging hormones rather than admit to a fading friendship.

Her hand was on the front door handle when Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs, parts of his hair standing upright on his head. A white towel was wrapped low around his slim waist and despite the disappointed, sleepy scowl on his face, he was for all intent and purposes, hunky. "My flight leaves in two hours, can you please make this quick?"

She threw him a murderous look as he bolted upstairs and began packing his suitcase. Mags, who had extracted herself from the car seat, greeted Lucy and the friends hugged each other for a long moment in silence before Lucy stepped back to take in Mags' bump.

"Wow" she said in complete awe "that baby looks just about ready."

With a wide smile she replied "eight days and counting."

"It's so good to see you" Lucy said smiling all the taking in the dire change in her best friend. Dark circles hung low under sad blue eyes while her usual shiny black locks of hair sat unkempt and dull below her jaw.

Water welled in Mags' eyes, "you too Luce."

"Come on into the kitchen and tell me what's going on."

"Am I disturbing anything?"

"Nothing at all" Lucy smiled reassuringly. Her friend looked horrendous and even seemed to have skipped on personal hygiene. Something had gone wrong somewhere. "Tell me how things are going?"

"Before I say a single word, I urgently need to pee and eat – in that order."

While Mags used the washroom, Lucy phoned a taxi for Sam and asked them to honk the horn when they were outside. Then she went upstairs and announced to Sam that he was being brought to the airport.

"That's my girl' he winked. 'I don't want to be late. Fergus has already been in Munich for a week now and says it's wild! "

Lucy forced herself to be diplomatic. "Of course! When you hear the car beep it's time to leave.' As she went back downstairs he called out 'and I'll need a fry before I go. '

The butter croissants and fresh orange juice were on the table when Mags returned refreshed from the bathroom. Lucy had made a pot of coffee and the inviting odor swelled within the cozy kitchen. The friends now sat at an angle to one another and Lucy watched as Mags ate heartily. Three croissants and a quart of orange juice later, Mags seemed revived enough to talk. "That was delicious Luce. I was absolutely starving....and bursting. I had not eaten in.....I do not know how long."

"There are loads more if you like."

Mags shook her head, "no, I am fine, thanks. This is so kind of you."

Lucy knew her childhood friend well enough to see she was stalling. "Mags, what is really going on?"

"Well" she said swallowing hard, "since we last saw each other, things have changed quite drastically really."

The sound of a taxi beeping outside and Sam subsequently hurrying down the stairs made her sigh. 'Hang on Mags. I just need to finish up something.'

When Sam saw her open the front door and gesture to go outside he gave an appreciative nod 'not bad service if I say so myself, except for the lack of breakfast.'

She waited until he was past the threshold then closed the door saying 'and don't be a skinflint- tip the driver this time!'

As she headed down the hallway he yelled through the letterbox 'that's just fuckin low Lucy – really low. I have to pay to go to the airport!! Wonderful!!! fuckin wonderful!!'

Lucy returned to see the shocked look on Mags face, but reassured her friend that all was well.'

Mags appeared unsure. 'Was that Sam who just left?'

'Yes, he's off to join Fergus in Munich. I told him we were over.'

'Really?'

'There was very little depth to what we had. Which was fine in one way, but it was never going to be anything more.'

'Can he pay for the taxi?'

Lucy pressed her lips together, typical of Mags to be considerate of everyone. 'He has more money than both of us put together. It's about time he learned how to open his wallet every now and again.'

Mags took her friend's hands in hers, 'are you okay?'

'Never better!' Lucy replied while pouring a coffee. 'Now, tell me what has changed so drastically?'

Lucy knew Mags had a tendency to over dramatize events which would be otherwise banal. Like the time she told everyone in primary school that her father had emptied the house and abandoned her mother and sister for another woman leaving them penniless with nothing to sit on. A social worker turned up at the house to investigate and learned that Mr. Thompson had taken a three month work contract in London. All chairs were accounted for. Mags' flair for the dramatic continued on into adulthood where she studied theatre, ending up assistant director in the local theater.

"Well where does one begin?' Mags dabbed her eyes with a tissue. 'Tim has left me and now Ciara has gone missing."

"Tim left you?" Lucy parroted. Tim actually left you?' She repeated in disbelief. Then a moment later asked with slight suspicion "has he taken a new job further afield; London perhaps?"

"Lucy!" Mags retorted hotly after realizing what her friend was thinking "I am not some child looking for attention. I'm telling you the truth!! He walked out a month ago and I have not seen nor heard from him since!!!!"

She saw the pain in her friend's eyes and believed her, but was shocked that Tim, whom she knew so well, would do such a thing.

"Well what happened?" Lucy asked softly

"Peter Pan syndrome" Mags shrugged "couldn't face being a father - preferred being a fucker."

Lucy's eyes widened, "Houston we have a problem" she thought. Mags never swore, or if she did, it had been after knocking back ten Black Russians, was up against an electricity pole trying to dance like a stripper and even then she had only said "shite" after falling onto the wet footpath.

"But wasn't he the one pushing for this pregnancy?" Lucy asked puzzled.

Mags shifted uncomfortably. 'He was very surprised initially, understandably so, after so many trying to conceive a child. I mean I was really surprised too, as well you know. Then just after the last ultrasound he simply says he can't do this and walks out!"

Lucy couldn't imagine Tim walking away like that, he was a good guy, at least he had been, so why was the word bloodyeffincowardandbastard on the tip of her tongue. Still, in all fairness Mags behavior of late had made being in her company torturous. It was like as if she had suddenly become Eve cast from the Garden of Eden with a bun in the oven and nobody to remotely understand what she was going through.

Perhaps Tim had needed a breather....for the sake of their marriage. Just a bit of time to get himself sorted out. Still, he was taking an awfully long time. Maybe he had found himself a bit of crumpet on the side. Oh, that's a terrible thought to have.

"And you think he's with Ciara?"

"No Lucy! Ciara disappeared three, well now it is four days ago, but it has nothing to do with Tim."

Lucy was not overtly alarmed at Ciara going missing. This was not the first conversation they had about the woman's disappearance. Even though it had been some years since then, this time felt just like every other previous situation.

"How do you know it has nothing to do with Tim?"

"Honestly! How can you ask such a thing?"

"I don't know Mags!" Lucy said exasperated that she wasn't fully grasping the complexities of her friend's life. "I'm trying to understand what's going on. I suppose the Tim and Ciara scenario is a result of my sexually thwarted mind."

Mags grinned conspiratorially "Well I know Ciara never understood what I saw in him. In private, she referred to him as Ken Dodd's love child!"

Both women laughed at this unflattering reference to Tim's looks and an aging British comedian.

"Okay, so Ciara's disappearance is unrelated to Tim leaving, but what if she has gone to find him for you."

Mags paused for a moment "of all the possible situations I have conjured up, that one never crossed my mind."

"Maybe because you were so upset with him she went off to find the mongrel and bring him back."

"That's a bit harsh Lucy, he's not a mongrel!"

"Sorry, but I can't think of any other word to adequately describe a man who can walk out on his wife and unborn child."

"Weren't we talking about Ciara?" Mags asked with a tone of annoyance.

"Then you think that she could have gone searching for him?"

"Perhaps, but it's not like her to cut communications completely. I mean she understands how I worry for her and would never deliberately stress me out like this."

"Well, have the police been notified?"

"Yes, just yesterday. But I'm not expecting them to devote much attention to her because they probably assume she is using again."

"Do you think she is?"

"Honestly? As much as I want to say she's not, I suppose I have my doubts because I have just spent the entire night going to every hovel imaginable.' The tremor in her voice resounded when she explained 'I don't know what to do Luce; I feel I'm at the end of my rope."

'Did you report Tim was also missing?'

Mags shook her head. 'I want him to come home because he wants to be with us, not because he's hauled back by the police.'

Lucy watched as her friend's eyes filled up. "Mags, I'm so sorry. These worries should be the last thing you have to deal with at such a special time in your life. I mean having a baby is just the summit of life's experiences."

And that's all it took for Mags to crack. She burst into uncontrollable sobs, the kind that could not be consoled with understanding words or gestures. This was release in its most primal form and Lucy let her have a good long cry before finally speaking.

"Look why don't you have a rest here then we'll talk to the police again.'

Mags blew her nose hard, "You'll do that?"

'Of course!!' she exclaimed to reassure her distraught friend. Then without preamble she fetched a blanket from the oak chest in the hallway returned to Mags and placed it on her lap. "Once you've had a few hours sleep we can contact the police and see if they have taken any action.'

Mags' eyes widened and she gasped for a second before her hands motioned up and down quickly like one who had hatched the most brilliant of ideas.

'You could call Kevin Hartnett!!'

'What!!!!!!' Lucy balked. 'Have you lost your mind?' It took a few attempts, but she managed to blurt 'I will do no such thing.'

'For God's sake he's a poh-lice-man Lucy!' Mags wasn't saying duh but it was intoned 'he can help I'm sure of it.'

Four years earlier Kevin and Lucy met when strange notes were being sent to her following her grandmother's death. Turns out a mad man was trying to kill her. But the intense bond they formed in the midst of danger and chaos had not lasted for very long and they drifted apart shortly after the case was solved. Kevin had moved to Dublin to pursue his goal of becoming a detective and Lucy had gone to Limerick University. They had gone from lovers to friends but even that didn't last long. It was well over three years since they had spoken.

'That was years ago!' Lucy tsked. 'Kevin Hartnett, he could be well on his way to being a priest for all I know, so just forget about involving him. Okay!!!!!' The look she threw Mags told her that idea ended there and then.

'Alright, alright.' Mags said impatiently. 'Surely you had the name of one other fella that you could call.'

Feeling slightly exasperated Lucy gaped 'what fella?'

'Remember you said he was massive.' An index finger went to her lips as her eyes lifted upwards in an effort to recall the person in question. 'Wasn't he good buddies with Kevin?'

'Oh you mean Liam!' Regret immediately followed the guess. It would have been best to have conveniently forgotten anyone associated with Kevin.

'That's the one!' Mags cried happily 'Can't you call him?'

Lucy bit her lip. Her friend looked so hopeful, yet calling Liam felt so wrong given his connection to Kevin. 'Look, we'll contact the police in general - no need to have connections in order to get things resolved.'

The deep frown set between Mags' eyes showed there was little belief held in that statement. 'You can be so naïve at times......it's almost cute, if it wasn't so annoying.'

Deciding it was best to ignore the path they were heading towards Lucy gently placed the blanket across Mags. 'We'll sort it out. I promise. Sleep and we'll see what we can do later.'

'Lucy!' Mags implored 'you don't get it do you!!!!!!! My only sister is missing. God only knows where she is or what state she is in. I couldn't even begin to describe the images that have passed through my mind. But let me tell you they are so terrifying I pray to God with every breath in my body that some angel is looking out for her, keeping her safe, warm, secure. Now you never had a sibling so I know you cannot imagine the bond sisters have, but if I'm asking you to pick up the phone and call that Liam guy it's because I'm desperate. Really desperate!!! So whatever discomfort you may feel doing this let me assure you it is nothing compared to the torture I'm going through right now.'

Lucy bowed her head in shame. Mags was right of course. Making a phone call was nothing. Kevin was a distant memory and Liam would probably not even remember her. Still this reasoning did not make what she was about to do any easier at all. Lucy agreed to phone Liam, albeit reluctantly. As she headed down the hall Mags began to follow her. 'I'll do this alone please' Lucy said with such an air of finality that Mags dared not follow.

Lucy removed the wallet from her hand bag and pulled out Kevin's old business card. Wear and tear had made the once firm paper soft and wrinkled, but was incapable of throwing it out or keeping it elsewhere. Thinking back to the day he handed her the card made her smile for a moment. She had been very frightened but was doing her best to hide it. He seemed to have seen through her veneer and their path's connected somehow. The card had been a lifeline, a way to know someone was taking her fears seriously. Shaking her head she returned to the present moment, bit her lip in hesitation then dialed the main number and waited.

'Henry Street Garda station' the female officer replied.

'I'd like to leave a message for Liam Cunningham if that's alright.'

'Oh, you can talk to him directly, he's right here.'

Lucy gulped wanting to fling the phone back onto the receiver, but before she had time to chicken out Liam's booming voice came over the phone.

'Cunningham here. Who's calling?'

'Ah hello Liam.....' she hadn't rehearsed anything and struggled to coordinate her thoughts. '......I don't know if you remember me. My name is Lucy Courtney. We met a few years back when......'

'Well indeed I do remember you Lucy,' he chuckled with his deep baritone voice. 'Quite the bit of chaos we had as well!'

'Tha..that's right' She stuttered nervously.

The deep voice boomed 'how are you keeping?'

She sucked air through her teeth. 'Grand Liam, ahm.. Thanks very much. How are you?'

'Arrah, grand altogether.' An awkward silence fell between them, but it didn't last long. Liam was never one to beat around the bush. 'I'm guessing this isn't a social call.'

Taking a deep breath to calm the gitters, she centered her thoughts. 'Look I'm really sorry to disturb you, but I have a friend who filed a missing persons report yesterday and she thinks that things aren't moving along quickly. She's in a bad way about it to be honest.'

'Well, it's not the first time I've heard that a missing person's search was, according to the complainant, not going fast enough. Rarely does anyone missing a loved one say sit back and take your time on this. I'm sure the lads are following up on the claim....... but I'll check that for you right now Lucy. Just give me what details you have.'

Lucy related everything Mags had said and done. He noted all the names then put her on hold while he went to verify the reports filed.

Four minutes later Liam came back on the line. 'Okay..... I have the file.'

'Great Liam. I guess we just wanted to know if any action would be taken to try and find Ciara.'

'Well, without going into too many details, as it's an ongoing investigation, we have started preliminary inquiries on the usual stuff, you know, speaking to people in her entourage. Nothing suspicious has come up so far.'

'That's all I needed to know Liam. Thanks again and I'm really sorry to have disturbed.'

'No worries Lucy. We'll need more information from Mags Thompson anyway, so you might as well both come in and give us a statement. '

'Sounds good. I'll be by later.'

'I'm here until five this evening, so come any time until then.'

While Lucy was making her way back to the kitchen, Liam Cunningham continued the email he had begun earlier to Kevin Hartnett. He'd have an interesting P.S. to add in.

*

Later that morning Ms. Daniels knocked gently on the office door not waiting for a reply before entering. The aging receptionist did not tolerate being hailed by her employer. They had worked together for so long each knew the other's quirks as well as any couple would. Their relationship had always been strictly professional besides Ms. Daniels did not bat for that side so to speak. 'Line two,' she announced firmly.

He looked up over half-rimmed glasses and sighed. Interruptions were the worst kind of interference as they broke his concentration and subsequent flow. He'd cut every telephone line in existence if his business didn't depend on it. There was no point in asking who the caller was or if it was important. Ms. Daniels would never divulge such information in front of his client. Just the fact that she interrupted the meeting told him it was a call he should take. Without a word to the messenger he excused himself to his client and left to take the call in private.

In an adjacent office, he took hold of the receiver then selected the pulsating cursor pointing to line two. 'Hello.'

'You have a problem Eugene.' The voice was calm as it always was no matter the issue. There had never been an emotionally charged note uttered in the seven years they had known each other.

'Explain' His tone was cold, matter of fact.

'There is no back-up transfer.'

'How is that possible?' he snapped.

'Usual reasons.'

'And you've checked the entire system?'

'Every single entry?'

'Keep looking. Double check your information.'

'I'd tell the client if I were you.'

'I'll do no such thing. Release the dog and report back.'

*

Lucy who had gone back to bed woke hours later to find Mags had left the house. An empty carton of orange juice sat on the kitchen counter with a post-it stuck to it that said 'Thanks for everything Luce, will call you later.'

After phoning Mags' mobile and getting no response, Lucy left a message asking her to call back then fixed a very late breakfast. There were many things to do before going to the police station and she would have to hurry as it had just turned noon. Usually she would never sleep in, but somehow the morning had passed by in a silent march forgetting her in their wake. She was showered and dressed in under five minutes. Another minute was spent combing her straight red hair which fell below her shoulder blades and tying it back in a neat bundle until it sat comfortably at the nape of her neck. To gain time as the electric tooth brush vibrated softly over white enamel, she haphazardly applied moisturizing cream with her free hand and let it penetrate her clear pale skin. The image in the mirror reflected a tall, young, green eyed woman in her late twenties, whose thin lips gave way to a wide, forced smile as she checked for dental cleanliness.

Lucy threw on her coat and shoes, grabbed her keys and handbag then dashed outside. Turning the key in her Athlunkard Street home, she looked to the sky which was threatening rain as dark grey clouds hovered menacingly over the city. She hopped into her silver Ford Opal, turned on the ignition and sped off to the university.

Corrections for her thesis had been completed and a final meeting with her supervisor had been set up weeks earlier to discuss her continuing in a Master's program. More studying was the last thing Lucy needed right now and very much regretted agreeing to the appointment. Her supervisor, Mr. Kelly, was a wonderful professor but couldn't see that she had reached a saturation point in regards to the discipline.

Languages were something she felt passionate about, but continuing studying them for another two years would take a level of perseverance that was simply non-existent in her mind. Anyway, she had made plans of her own, which admittedly was a tad exciting. Two months ago during a quiet evening at home –had she any other kind?- in a moment of courage peppered with an aromatic Chardonnay, Lucy had applied for a six month stint with a translation company located in the trendy arrondissement of Montparnasse, Paris. The ensuing phone interviews had been successful enough to lead to an actual meeting in the city of light, only three weeks following the application.

The contract had been sent a week later with the terms and conditions of the employment. She had just to sign the documents, send them back and the start date would be confirmed. They had said they needed the position filled before October first. Nobody else knew of this and she wasn't sure she felt like sharing it either –bizarre creature that she was. It was best to just a leave a message for her friends once she had arrived in Paris. That was just the way she preferred things –simple, secret and fuss less!

It was nearing four o Clock when Lucy shook hands with Liam Cunningham, who was just as massive as she remembered. Standing at a towering six feet six inches, he was a barrel chested man with a shock of blond straight hair, blue eyes and slightly pink skin. His hands were like shovels and she pitied anyone foolish enough to get on the wrong side of him. Inside his huge palm, her hands were like a doll's and this he noticed immediately 'you're still as petite as ever.'

Lucy was not a small woman. At five foot seven with an athletic build, she had never been considered petite. 'I do believe you've actually grown since I saw you last Liam, if that's possible.'

'It's expanding I am now' he said rubbing his hand over a slightly rotund belly. 'The wife is worse than the mother when it comes to meals. They think I'm in a constant state of starvation.'

'You got married. Congratulations!'

'Yep, two years last May' he said rolling his eyes but gleaming with pride. 'Great do altogether t'was! Kevin was the best man of course! Himself and his wife flew with us to Cancun.'

The look of shock must have registered on Lucy's face because Liam shifted uncomfortably for a moment before continuing on as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said. 'Yeah, we didn't want a typical wedding with three hundred guests, so we decided to get married on a beach in Mexico.'

'Sounds lovely' she managed to say with enormous difficulty all the while feeling silly about being bothered that Kevin Hartnett got married. He was entitled to his happiness. Besides they hadn't seen each other in years. What was it to her!

'Now people would say it's not much of a honeymoon when there's sixteen of you together, but we all had a brilliant time. Unforgettable it was!!'

Lucy was wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. 'Well I'm very happy for you Liam.' Desperately wanting to change the subject she pointed to the stripes on his shirt sleeves. 'You've become sergeant no less.'

Another beaming smile of pride broke across his face. 'I have indeed. I had just come back from the honey moon and the Captain called me into his office. Kevin had come down for the day and I thought something nasty was going on, but then the Captain announced I was promoted to sergeant. I tell you t'was better than winning the lotto.'

Everything he mentioned included something about Kevin, so she remained silent.

'And what about yourself Lucy, found an auld ball and chain of your own?'

She couldn't say she had spent the last year as the only groupie to a part-time folk singer she had just ditched that morning. 'No time Liam' she waved dismissively, 'studying non-stop.'

'Sure there's time yet' he shrugged demonstrating the existence of a deadline for finding a partner or face spinsterhood.

Lucy nodded and smiled then listened as Liam loquaciously went into buddy stories of his and Kevin's exploits all the while she was willing herself home. Finally he took out his pen and prepared to take whatever information she could give on Ciara. This didn't take too long as Lucy had not seen Ciara in over six months, still she did try to give pertinent details concerning her description, distinguishing marks and anything else that may help in finding her.

Just as she was about to leave Lucy asked if Mags had stopped by to give her statement.

'She did indeed about three it was' Liam explained. 'I didn't realize she had a little one coming along so soon. She's fierce big.'

'Less than a week, I believe.'

Liam chuckled and said it would probably be sooner. Not wanting to even comprehend how he knew this she asked if Mags happened to mention where she was going.

'Just left to search locally, thinks she may find some local junkie or other who could help her find Ciara.'

Lucy's eyes widened in alarm "oh God! I'd better try and find her."

He waved a hand of dismissal "I asked one of the newer recruits to keep an eye on her, so at least she won't be endangering herself. The woman is brave I'll give her that. I mean Limerick has some great trendy spots, but like any city it has a few dubious places, and she's...ah... questioning the patrons –for want of a better word - without even a second thought."

Lucy shook her head 'she's so desperate to find Ciara I think she's forgetting there's a baby coming!'

Liam nodded in agreement 'I would imagine with all the stress she's been under, her priorities may not be clear.'

'Of course! But she won't listen to anyone.......I'm worried about her.'

'Who knows how we'd react if faced with the same situation' he offered '....imagine you're pregnant, you're sister's missing, and the father of your child has run off...wouldn't you do exactly the same thing? He didn't wait for a response. 'Well from what Kevin told me' he said with a slightly lopsided smile 'I'm guessing you'd probably be doing cavity searches on gang members by now!"

Lucy couldn't help but laugh. 'Don't believe everything you hear.'

Liam nodded as his lips pressed together tightly. He put away his pen and closed over the note pad.

She stood up placing her handbag across her wrist 'right then Liam, I'll go. Thanks for your time.'

He took her proffered hand and held it firmly for a moment 'I'll tell him you're still as lovely as when we first met.'

A tight knot stung her throat and she shook her head 'best not tell lies.' And with that she was gone.

*

After leaving the station the remainder of Lucy's to-do list fell by the wayside, a victim of inertia brought on by Liam dropping the M bomb. Kevin was married? 'Kevin was married!' The phrase replayed over and over in her mind '.........Wow...it was just....so...so hard to imagine' she thought. Of all the things she had expected to learn at the police station, Kevin Hartnett's marriage was not one of them. Missing persons statistics, yes, safety precautions yes, former boyfriends getting hitched....no! Subsequent state of shock – no!

Her mind travelled back to the time when their connection first took off. It was in front of The Windmill Pub on the South end of Limerick City. Lucy was very frightened after finding another menacing note left for her. It was a second and more threatening one but what was worse it had been left on the fridge door. The intruder had felt bold enough to enter her home which had scared her beyond words. She had known where to find Kevin as she had overheard him saying he was going to be at the pub in the evening. When they met that night his deep blue eyes and protective nature had just won her over completely. It was sad really that their relationship hadn't developed further. They ended up going their separate ways, so obviously they had not been meant for one another.

Kevin it seemed had fared better than her in the love department that was for sure. She had remained celibate up until last year when she met Sam - the Irish version of a brash Art Garfunkel!!! Maybe he would make it in Germany after all.

Kevin had found someone he loved enough to say I do forever. But how? And when? And what did she look like? And why was she so special to him? Lucy admonished herself for asking all these questions? The man was perfectly entitled to go off and do as he pleased. He was with someone with whom he had formed a lasting bond........and that was okay. No?

Somehow she found herself sitting on a bench in the old Potato Market overlooking a narrow passage of the River Shannon. The dark clouds had been swept away by a strong breeze and now golden rays of sunshine peered out through tufts of white clouds gently caressing the glistening waters. Majestic swans floated gracefully along a small shaded inlet to the rear of the Hunt Museum. The bevy paused for a moment to preen before deciding to venture cautiously onto the grassy bank. Their beauty however and that of the surrounding area was lost on Lucy. She tried to imagine wanting to walk down the aisle with Sam and almost laughed out loud. Yet Kevin loved someone enough to do just that. The whole thing was sitting like a large piece of undigested beef in her gut and she had no idea why? It wasn't like they had remained close. Neither one had tried to reach out to the other at any time, so what was ailing her? Was it because now that he was well and truly unavailable, forbidden fruit was sweeter and she wanted him back? Classing it as simple childishness, she brushed off the blues and decided on having some emotional Pepto-Bismol in the form of a local Chinese takeaway - Kung Po.

It was nearing seven thirty by the time she got home, the feeling of dejection still lingering in her every pore. Discarding her shoes haphazardly, she placed her handbag on the table in the hallway and swore under her breath when the phone rang. Lucy picked it up on the second ring.

"Hello?" She listened as a man who identified himself as Garda Riordan from the Henry Street station went on to explain that Sergeant Cunningham had asked him to keep an eye on a woman by the name of Mags Thompson."

"Oh God! Lucy interrupted 'Is she okay?"

"Well, she's at the maternity hospital, but I don't know if the baby is on its way. She's a bit upset and is asking for her sister. I asked who I should call and she mentioned you. "

"A hospital....' Lucy repeated distractedly. The thought of what she'd have to do was already making her head spin while her heart beat rapidly.

'The Maternity, that's right.'

She closed her eyes admonishing her reaction. 'Thank you very much. I'm on my way immediately." After hanging up, she placed the food in the fridge, rushed out the front door and literally crashed into Liam Cunningham. "Huh!!" Lucy gasped in surprised. "I'm terribly sorry -I hope I didn't hurt you."

"It would take a lot more than that Lucy.'

She could hear he wanted to say 'For God's sake didja not see the size of me' but was too polite.

After being invited inside, Liam wasted no time in stating the purpose of his visit. "Do you have any clothes belonging to Ciara here?" he asked.

'Clothes?' Lucy frowned. "No, nothing at all, why?'

'It's for the canine unit, in case they decide to launch a search and rescue operation. I'll need something she's worn recently.'

Somber images crossed her mind. 'Right...I have a spare key to Mag's house. You can pick up what you need there. A Garda Riordan just called so I'm actually on my way to the hospital. Mags is having the baby, but if you'd prefer, you can take the key and go to the house yourself.'

'Where should I look exactly?'

'The smallest bedroom upstairs. Lilac walls, white furniture.'

While Lucy slipped on her shoes, Liam walked past, his attention drawn to something in the living room. He stood in front of a framed photo on top of a library shelf. It showed Mags, Lucy, Tim, Ciara and several other friends smiling together in a happy moment captured two years earlier. Liam commented on how Ciara was very similar to Mags only much more svelte.

'Even if she has changed considerably in the past few weeks' Lucy interjected 'you cannot miss the tattoo on the back of her neck I mentioned earlier.'

'That's right. You said it's a small red heart with gold thorns encircling it?'

'It's high up on the nape of her neck, just below the hairline. Not easy to see unless she wears her hair up.'

'Do you know what the tattoo symbolizes for her?' Liam asked.

Lucy was feeling a sense of extreme urgency 'I don't remember if she told me already. You'll really have to ask her yourself.'

Liam Cunningham was not optimistic of having that opportunity but did not say as much. "Grand, I'm on it then" he said heading out the door. After a moment he turned around 'Lucy. I'll need to know where you were at the time of the disappearance.' He didn't say he had already checked out Mags' alibi.

I was with...ahm friends, at a concert.'

'Grand. Who are these friends and where can they be reached?'

Okay, Lucy would not normally have divulged having Folksinger Sam as her bedfellow to a-n-y-o-n-e, but given the circumstances she had no choice but to divulge the information. 'The person in question is in Germany as we speak.'

'Do you have the number where they can be reached?'

'Mmhhmmmm'

The next ten minutes were spent in excruciating pain – embarrassment really – as Liam Cunningham conversed with Sam and Fergus pre-gig so to speak. She had no idea what details of their relationship was divulged but she could only imagine. Neither Sam, nor Fergus come to think of it, were what you would call discreet.

By the time the conversation ended Lucy was perspiring heavily which had all the appearance of being guilty but was more a case of being embarrassed. Still Liam made no reference to what had been discussed; instead he went on as if he had just spoken to his mother not her lover.

'Right Lucy, can I give you a lift to the hospital. I'm passing by there anyway.'

She thought a lift in a police car would save her a lot of traffic and parking problems. 'Please. If you don't mind.'

to be continued
