Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“Mum?”
“Aislinn! I’m sick with worry! Why didn’t you call?”
“Mum, I married only two days ago, and Lorcan has kept me busy.” My face burned. My sleep-deprived mind had spewed words I really didn’t want to say to my mum.
“Don’t you dare act like Imogen. You are the responsible one. I can’t lose you too.”
“Mum, I’m fine. I’m safe. You don’t have to worry. I simply didn’t have time to call you yet. Are you just getting home from work?”
“I was working the day and evening shift. I’m working more shifts, in case I need to come to New York to save you and Imogen.”
I shook my head. “What about Finn?”
“Old Sinead is sleeping on our couch so he won’t be alone at night. If he wakes and calls for you or me and doesn’t calm down, she gets me and I end my shift. It’s better than nothing.”
Sinead was our neighbor. She was nice enough, but she wasn’t family. “I feel so bad for Finn. He’s already lost too much in his short life.”
“Indeed, so make sure he doesn’t lose you, Aislinn. Be careful.”
“I am, Mum. Promise. I’m going to call again in the afternoon so I can chat with Finn.”
We talked a couple of minutes more, but I could hear the exhaustion in Mum’s voice, the fear and worry. “Promise not to worry about me. I am fine. I can handle Lorcan, Mum. Focus on yourself and Finn. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Mum sighed. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
“That’s just how our lives are.”
“Indeed.”
We hung up and I got out of bed, no longer capable of resting. I needed to do something, anything that would allow me to return to Ireland, to Finn and Mum.
I grabbed a quick shower, taking extra time to wash between my legs, but it didn’t change how I felt. It was as if Lorcan had imprinted himself into me. I could still feel him. I’d probably be sore for weeks to come, especially if Lorcan kept jumping me any chance he got.
It wasn’t even eight o’clock when I left the apartment with an old wicker basket filled with a plastic container of soup and half of the bread. I’d left a big portion of stew and a slice of bread for Lorcan. The street was busy with people heading to work and delivery trucks providing the local shops and restaurants with goods. Many people nodded a greeting at me.
My phone beeped, and I fumbled it out of my pocket, surprised to see Lorcan’s name pop up.
Don’t take any detours on your way to Mildread.
I gritted my teeth. Are you watching me?
I have eyes and ears everywhere.
I looked around, and suddenly the friendly greetings seemed hostile. I sped up, hating this feeling of being watched.
When I arrived on Mrs. Byrne’s doorstep, it was only 8:30, definitely too early for stew, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go and I was eager to talk to someone who knew everything about the local community and Lorcan.
I rang the bell. Immediately a loud barking rang out, followed by scratching and yowls. Someone wasn’t happy about visitors.
Mrs. Byrne scolded her dog for what felt like half an hour before the door finally opened and she appeared in the narrow opening. She glared at me. “You?”
“Me,” I said with a pleasant smile. I’d worn my church dress and put my hair up in a chaste hairdo, all to win Mrs. Byrne over. I held up the basket. “I made lamb stew and soda bread for you.”
Mrs. Byrne opened the door a bit wider and harrumphed. “You did?” She regarded me as if she couldn’t imagine a young thing like me knew anything about cooking. “I thought girls like you wanted equal rights. No cooking, cleaning or laundry. Only makes the shops richer and the people unhappier.”
I nodded as if I agreed. That was usually a tale spun by the old gents who visited Merchant’s Arch, so I was familiar with the narrative. “I like cooking.”
Like yesterday, she was impeccably dressed in a long skirt and blouse, and had makeup on, even lipstick. “Well, you’re here. Come on in. But you can’t stay long. I had to lock Uggie in the bedroom so he doesn’t work himself up too much. He hasn’t had his heart medication yet.”
Judging by the barks and scratching going on behind the bedroom door, he was working himself up anyway. I followed Mrs. Byrne down a narrow corridor, which displayed dozens of photos of her and her husband and their children—five in total if I counted right. We arrived in a cozy eat-in kitchen. There was a sofa draped with a white crocheted blanket, and a small very old TV. I could see a splendid room through the door across from the kitchen that had a plush flowery couch and a colorful carpet. I bet she never used it. It was the nice living room, the one reserved for special guests and feasts, both of which were probably now a rarity in Mrs. Byrne’s life. Though, I bet Lorcan got to sit in the living room when he visited.