Sean had been busy all day, scouring through documents for whatever his latest cause happened to be. Trudy didn’t interfere with that, it was his hobby, his enjoyment of the spotlight keeping him there. At last, he’d found his audience.
She heard him start a video call to one of his student helpers and crept to the doorway to watch through the gap. The student was a young woman, early twenties. She giggled and fawned as Sean played at being the experienced hand, the famous one.
He wasn’t wearing his glasses. That’s what stood out. He wore them all the time at home, especially when going through his paperwork, either on his nose or pushed up on his head. But now they were on the table and out of reach to ensure they they didn’t betray his age.
He gave a small, cutesy wave as he signed off. She moved away from the door.
She brooded in the living room as he whistled his way through the afternoon, slamming cabinet drawers and moving paper around. At one point he came in to check what she was doing, his glasses back on his head.
Before she could answer, her phone rang. It was Emily, her sister.
She didn’t want to answer, not with Sean there, but she needed to end her malaise.
‘Hi, Em.’
‘Trudy, a woman came to my work earlier, asking about Sean and Peter.’
Trudy went cold. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that. She wanted to know about Peter because she’s helping out his lawyer. It’s his trial this week, I don’t know if you’ve read about it, but she wanted to know about back then too. About Sean.’
Trudy closed her eyes for a moment. ‘And what did you tell her?’
‘I told her how it was. The conversation just went that way, I’m sorry.’
‘Why are you calling me?’
‘She might come to see you, to ask about Sean. It seemed like she was more interested in Sean than Peter, now I think back.’
‘Okay, thank you.’
Trudy clicked off without saying goodbye.
She put her head back and closed her eyes. All she could hear was the gentle clunk of that damn grandfather clock, and Sean whistling in the other room, still basking in the glow of his flirty video call.
His father’s living room had a familiar antiseptic aroma when Dan walked in. The electric wheelchair was abandoned in one corner, the battery removed and on the seat. He was watching a film, sitting in a chair that looked old and ragged, holding a glass in his good hand. He turned, straining to see who it was, and said, ‘Look at me, getting popular now.’
‘I just thought I’d say hello.’
‘Yeah, yeah, you were just passing, same old refrain.’ He pointed towards a cupboard at the back of the room. ‘Could you get me a refill?’
‘You should slow down. Drinking all day will kill you.’
‘You’re a lawyer, not a doctor. If you want to dispense medical advice, put on a white coat. And what’s this sudden concern? Most times, you bring me a bagful.’
‘Perhaps I’m hoping you’ll stick around a bit longer.’
That silenced him. He went back to watching the film, although his focus seemed a little more detached.
Dan moved some old newspapers from a sofa and sat down. He put his head back and closed his eyes. The emotion around Pat’s disappearance threatened to swamp him, but he couldn’t let it. That would come later, he knew, but there was too much going on for him to lose focus.
‘What’s eating you, Daniel?’
Dan opened his eyes. His father’s voice was softer, more concerned. ‘Pat Molloy’s gone missing.’
His father’s eyes narrowed and he put his glass down. ‘How come?’
‘Just that. He went out and didn’t come home. The police are looking for him, but it doesn’t look good.’
He frowned. ‘He’s a good man, Pat Molloy. He did a lot of good for us back when we needed him, but criminal law attracts criminals. He might have upset the wrong person. You need to be careful.’
‘It feels weird. I’ve only just found out he’s very ill, and now he’s just disappeared? He’s always been like a… well, a good boss.’
His father picked up his glass again and took a drink. ‘A father figure.’
Dan smiled, despite himself. ‘Yes, that.’
They both sat in silence for a while, before his father said, ‘If you’re stopping, take off your jacket. You’re allowed to relax. Watch the film with me.’
‘Just for a bit, I’d like that.’
And he did. The film washed over him, some nonsense about two mobsters driving a snitch to an execution, but he enjoyed the nothingness about it all. They didn’t talk. He refilled his father’s glass when he needed it, and they laughed at the film as they watched it.
When he left, his father didn’t say much. Just raised his glass and winked, but as Dan walked back to his car, swallowing down the lump in his throat, it felt like his father had said so much.
He’d needed it.