Chapter Forty-Seven

 

For the remainder of that week, the topic of conversation at the mill was Roy. Miss Grimshaw said she was flabbergasted to hear that he’d had a mental disorder. ‘How did that go unnoticed?’ she repeated several times. Val said it was obvious he had problems, but Miss Grimshaw said he had hidden it very well.

‘Did you notice anything strange about him, Aileen?’ the older woman asked.

Aileen sucked in her breath. ‘Not at first. He could be moody; unpredictable, I’d say.’ She was relieved to answer without the words choking in her throat.

‘Anyway, the poor man’s dead. Mr Bill and I will represent the firm at his funeral.’ Sighing, Miss Grimshaw went back up to her office.

‘I wonder what they’ll do now without a rep,’ Val said, placing her elbows on the desk and linking her fingers.

‘There’ll be no shortage of applications,’ Aileen said.

‘Orders are down already.’ Val picked up a few from the pile and handed them to Aileen, and the rest of the day passed without much incident.

Roy’s death was recorded in the newspaper as another suicide statistic. It only got a small notice in the newspaper, and if you weren’t looking you wouldn’t find it. Aileen felt an overwhelming sense of relief that her name wasn’t mentioned. Only Mary and herself, and Roy’s mother knew that she had been to his home days before he killed himself. That’s how she hoped it would stay.

As soon as the funeral had taken place, she planned to give notice. She was longing to get back to Dublin and explain everything to Dermot and pray he would forgive her. She couldn’t put back the clock, and what had happened to Roy would always be a sad reminder of her time in Birmingham.

* * *

A week after the funeral, Alan surprised both Aileen and Val when he walked into the office dressed in a smart suit and tie. ‘Say hello to your new rep,’ he chortled.

Val’s mouth dropped, and Aileen glanced up. ‘You’ve got Roy’s job?’

‘Not yet. I’m applying for it. How do I look?’

Aileen and Val exchanged glances just as the door to Mr Bill’s office opened, and Alan was called inside.

‘What do you make of that?’ Val said. ‘Who’s going to take the orders? We’re not taking them in here. We have enough to do.’

Aileen sighed and carried on typing. ‘Sure, if he gets it, someone else will fill his job.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Val said. ‘But that could take ages.'

Aileen wanted to mention that she was leaving, but thought it best to wait until Monday after she had told Miss Grimshaw.

On Friday, after work, she arrived back at the lodging house to find a letter from her father. Her excitement mounting, she opened it.

Dearest Aileen,

I know it’s only been a couple of weeks since you went back to Birmingham, and I wondered if you had thought any more about coming home. I don’t want to put pressure on you in any way; perhaps you’ve decided to stay after all, and that’s fine. I was thinking of employing someone full time as the shop is quite busy, and I’m run off my feet.

If you were planning on coming home, I’d keep the job for you; that’s if you want it. You might have other plans.

Whatever you decide to do, can you let me know? I hope everything is well with you and Mary. If you feel that your life is in Birmingham, I’ll come over for a visit in the summer months once I’ve got someone established here to look after things.

All the best

Your loving father,

Jonny Maguire.

She folded the letter, not sure whether to laugh or cry. If only he knew how much she wanted to come home, help him in the shop, and be part of his life. She put the letter in the pocket of her dress and sat down on her bed. She would have been on her way home if it hadn’t been for the tragedy that had met her on her return.

She wanted to tell her da, but not in a letter. Then there was Dermot. How could she expect him to understand? Once she told him about Roy, things might never be the same between them. There was only one way to find out. It was the time to end all secrets and come clean. However, if Dermot let her go, it would break her heart.

That night Aileen had a long talk with Mary.

‘Sure, I’ll miss yea, so I will, but I think it’s for the best. You don’t want to lose that young man of yours.’

Aileen shifted her gaze. ‘I don’t, but he knows nothing about Roy Pickering.’

‘You’ve done nothing wrong, Aileen; perhaps just been a little naïve.’ Mary looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘Sure, I was young meself once and know how it feels to be lonely.’ She sighed. ‘It’s my guess you never wanted to come away in the first place. So there’s nothing to stop you giving notice at the mill and goon back ‘ome now, is there?’

‘You’re right. Thanks, Mary. I could stay until you get a new lodger?’

‘Not at all. I’ll soon fill that room. Sure, I’ll be packing up in a few years. Me sister and me are going to retire to Rhyl. We’ve planned it a while back, so yea needn’t go worrying about me.’

‘Sounds nice.’ Aileen reached for her bag. She always paid her board on Friday night, and she still owed Mary for the flight on Christmas Eve. ‘I’ll pay you back the rest of what I owe you next week.’

‘Sure, yea can send it over when yea get home.’ Mary stuffed the notes into her apron pocket. ‘Don’t forget, yea’ve another flight to buy.’

‘That would be really helpful.’ Aileen had been planning on taking the ferry, but at this time of year the sea could be rough. She just might be able to buy a cheap ticket with Aer Lingus.

Mary got to her feet. ‘Well, I’d better get back to me ironing.’

She made her way towards the kitchen, and Aileen picked up a magazine from the rack, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her stupid friendship with Roy and his subsequent death had left her shaken. Now she could see things in perspective, she recognised how gullible she had been to have let herself be taken in by an older man and fallen for his lies. When she rationalised her own behaviour, it occurred to her that the loss of her ma, her da’s unhappy state, and Lizzy’s attitude, had all contributed to her lack of judgement.

The shrill of the telephone brought her out of her thoughts. Thinking it might be Dermot, she stood in the doorway as Mary lifted the receiver.

‘What can I do for yea?’ Mary was saying. ‘What, at this time of the night? Aye, I don’t know. Yes, she’s here. Hold on.’ Mary turned her head and beckoned Aileen to the phone. ‘It’s the police. They want to speak to yea.’

When Aileen replaced the phone, her face was white. ‘What is it? What do they want from yea now?’

‘They want me to call in at the station first thing in the morning, but they wouldn’t say what it was about.’ She placed her hands over her face. ‘Mary, this is not going away.’