Broken Harbour

“It’s worked out great. Pat, the way he treats Jenny-he still lights up when he finds out there’s something she wants, because he can’t wait to get it for her. Back when I was a teenager, I used to pray that I’d meet someone who’d love me the way Pat loves Jenny. OK?”

The present tense takes a long time to wear off. My mother died way back when I was a teenager, but every now and then Dina still talks about what perfume Mummy wears or what kind of ice cream she likes. It drives Geri crazy. I asked, not too skeptically, “No arguments? In thirteen years?”

“That’s not what I said. Everyone has arguments. But theirs aren’t a big deal.”

“What do they argue about?”

Fiona was looking at me now, a thin layer of wariness solidifying over all the rest. “Same as any couple. Stuff like, back when we were kids, Pat would get upset if some other guy fancied Jenny. Or when they were saving up towards the house, Pat wanted to go on holiday and Jenny thought everything should go into the savings. They always sort it out, though. Like I said, no big deal.”

Money: the only thing that kills more people than love. “What does Patrick do?”

“He’s in recruitment-was. He worked for Nolan and Roberts-they find people for financial services. They let him go in February.”

“Any particular reason?”

Fiona’s shoulders were starting to tense up again. “It wasn’t anything he did. They let a few people go at the same time, not just him. Financial services companies aren’t exactly recruiting these days, you know? The recession… ”

“Did he have any problems at work? Any bad blood when he left?”

“No! You keep trying to make it sound like, like Pat and Jenny have all these enemies everywhere, they’re fighting all the time- They’re not like that.”

She was reared back away from me, the cup thrust out in two clenched hands like a shield. I said soothingly, “Now, that’s the kind of information I need. I don’t know Pat and Jenny; I’m just trying to get an idea of them.”

“They’re lovely. People like them. They love each other. They love the kids. OK? Does that give you enough of an idea?”

Actually that gave me shag-all idea about anything, but it was obviously the best I was going to get. “Absolutely,” I said. “I appreciate it. Does Patrick’s family still live in Monkstown?”

“His parents are dead-his dad was back when we were kids, his mum was a few years ago. He’s got a little brother, Ian, he’s in Chicago- Ring Ian. Ask him about Pat and Jenny. He’ll tell you the exact same thing.”

“I’m sure he will. Did Pat and Jenny keep any valuables in the house? Cash, jewelry, anything like that?”

Fiona’s shoulders came down again, a little, while she considered that. “Jenny’s engagement ring-Pat paid a couple of grand for that-and this emerald ring that our granny left to Emma. And Pat has a computer; it’s pretty new, he got it with his redundancy money, it might still be worth something… All that stuff, is it still there? Or did it get taken?”

“We’ll check. That’s it for valuables?”

“They don’t have anything valuable. They used to have this big SUV, but they had to give it back; they couldn’t make the repayments. And I guess there’s Jenny’s clothes-she used to spend a load on them, till Pat lost his job-but who’s going to do this for a bunch of secondhand clothes?”

There are people who would do it for a lot less, but I didn’t get the feeling that was what we were looking at. “When did you last see them?”

She had to think about that. “I met up with Jenny in Dublin, for coffee. This summer, maybe three or four months ago? I haven’t seen Pat in ages-April, I guess. God, I don’t know how it got to be that long-”

“What about the children?”

“April, the same as Pat. I was out here for Emma’s birthday-she was turning six.”

“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

“Like what?”

Head up, chin out, straight onto the defensive. I said, “Anything at all. A guest who seemed out of place, maybe. A conversation that sounded odd.”

“No. Nothing was odd. There were a bunch of kids from Emma’s class, and Jenny got a bouncy castle- Oh, God, Emma and Jack… Both of them, are you sure they’re both…? Could one of them not be just hurt, just, just… ”

“Ms. Rafferty,” I said, in my best gentle-but-firm, “I’m pretty sure they’re not just hurt. We’ll let you know straightaway if anything changes, but right now I need you to stay with me. Every second counts, remember?”

Fiona pressed a hand over her mouth and swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Well done.” I held out another cigarette and clicked the lighter. “When did you last speak to Jenny?”

“Yesterday morning.” She didn’t have to think about that one. “I ring her every morning at half past eight, once I’m in work. We have our coffee and check in, just for a few minutes. Like a start to the day, you know?”

“It sounds nice. How was she yesterday?”

“Normal! She was completely normal! There was nothing, I swear to God, I’ve gone over it in my head and there was nothing-”

“I’m sure there wasn’t,” I said soothingly. “What did you talk about?”

“Just stuff, I don’t know. One of my flatmates plays bass, her band has a gig coming up, I told Jenny about that; she was telling me how she was looking online for a toy stegosaurus, because Jack had brought home some friend from preschool on Friday and they went hunting a stegosaurus in the garden… She sounded fine. Totally fine.”

“Would she have told you if there was anything wrong?”

“Yeah, I think so. She would. I’m sure she would.”

Which didn’t sound sure. I asked, “Are you two close?”

Fiona said, “There’s just the two of us.” She heard herself and realized that wasn’t an answer. “Yeah. We’re close. I mean, we were closer when we were younger, teenagers-we sort of went in different directions after that. And it’s not as easy now that Jenny’s out here.”

“How long has that been?”

“They bought the house like three years ago.” 2006: the height of the boom. Whatever they had paid, these days the gaff was worth half of that. “There was nothing here then, though, just fields; they bought off the plans. I thought they were mental, but Jenny was over the moon, she was so excited-their own place…” Fiona’s mouth contorted, but she got it back together. “They moved out here maybe a year later. As soon as the house was finished.”

I asked, “And what about you? Where do you live?”

“In Dublin. Ranelagh.”

“You said you share a flat?”

“Yeah. Me and two other girls.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a photographer. I’m trying to get an exhibition together, but meanwhile I work at Studio Pierre-you know, Pierre, he was on that TV show about elite Irish weddings? I mostly do the baby shoots, or if Keith-Pierre-gets two weddings on the same day, I do one of them.”

“Were you doing a baby shoot this morning?”

She had to work to remember, it was so far away. “No. I was going through shots, these shots from last week-the mother’s coming in today to pick the album.”

“What time did you leave?”

“Like quarter past nine. One of the guys said he’d sort out the album for me.”

“Where’s Studio Pierre?”

“By Phoenix Park.”

An hour from Broken Harbor, minimum, in morning traffic and in that shitty little car. I asked, “Had you been worried about Jenny?”

That electric-shock head-shake.