A Woman Unknown Page 0,2

not long for this world, she’s there all the time, at the house she grew up in, on the Bank, and you know what sort of area that is.’

I knew the Bank only by reputation. A poor area of the city, situated between the railway line and the river. It was said that the police rarely ventured there.

The sun on the back of my head made me feel a little dizzy. I moved my chair.

He sighed. ‘I’m a compositor on the local paper. When I married, I was earning four pounds, one shilling a week. Since then, we’ve had nothing but wage cuts. I’m down to three pounds, eight and six.’

Sykes raised an eyebrow. This was still a good wage, given the hardship of our times.

Fitzpatrick drummed his fingers on the table. ‘I’ve borne a wage reduction of twelve shillings and sixpence, but have I cut her housekeeping? No, I have not. I took her out of poverty. Now she wants more than I can afford. Is she giving someone money?’ He leaned forward, making fists of his hands. ‘When I refused her a guinea, she said she didn’t care, and it would come from somewhere else. That is what made me wonder, is she out stealing?’

I had the impression that he was stressing the possibility of shoplifting only because this was what most disturbed Sykes.

He coughed, and said apologetically, ‘Sorry. Weak chest.’

When he had recovered, I asked, ‘Regarding your suspicions about your wife stealing, have you noticed any items in the house that you have reason to believe were obtained dishonestly?’

‘I came home a month ago to find her dancing like a dervish to the latest music. She had this gramophone, and no explanation of where it came from. And now it’s gone. She says it’s being repaired, but she’s sold it, or pawned it. Well where did it come from? Who carried it for her? She has an old sweetheart who hangs about, making himself useful to her mother.’

‘I don’t see how we can help, Mr Fitzpatrick.’

He touched the Sacred Heart badge in his lapel. ‘She could have got in with some shoplifting gang.’

Sykes’s jaw tightened. He said nothing. For a moment, the three of us sat in uneasy silence. Was Fitzpatrick here to admit that his rage was about to explode, that he might do who knows what if he did not find some explanation that satisfied his doubts, and jealousy?

Fitzpatrick hunched, drawing his arms into his body. ‘I have a house that was my parents. They are both gone to their eternal rest. I promised Deirdre that she would want for nothing. And I kept my promise. But I think she was disappointed that I did not agree to bring her mother to live with us. Perhaps I should have, only …’

‘Only what?’ I prompted.

‘When I first said no, she said that I would say that wouldn’t I, because people would think her mother was my wife, and she was our daughter. She can be very cruel. Last year, when I knew how ill my mother-in-law was, I said to invite her. But then she wouldn’t come, said she knew when she wasn’t wanted.’

Sykes finally spoke. ‘Would it hurt,’ he said, looking at me, ‘to see that Mrs Fitzpatrick is coming to no harm? After all, I was the one who ensured no charge was brought against her.’

‘I’ll pay, of course,’ Fitzpatrick said, hand to his inside pocket, ready to bring out his wallet then and there.

I told him our daily rate, and that if we took on the case, he would be billed in the usual way.

His lip twitched. ‘Please don’t send an invoice to me at home. If Deirdre sees it, she’ll wonder what I’m up to.’

I glanced again at the wedding photograph. This seemed such an unlikely coupling.

It was against my better judgement, but looking from Fitzpatrick to Sykes, I decided that it would not hurt to take a closer look at this young woman who aroused such strong emotions.

Deirdre sat next to her mother’s bed in the small whitewashed room, with its familiar damp amber patterns on ceiling and walls. The room smelled of camphor, essence of violets and boiled cabbage from last night’s supper. She smoothed the familiar tufts of the counterpane.

Mam had dozed off. In her sleep she murmured. Her eyelids twitched dreams. She would be back in the misty Ireland of her childhood, a place about which Deirdre heard endless stories but had never visited.

What convinced Deirdre that her