Jumping as the overhead speakers blast a local voice asking for Andy to come to checkouts, Nuala continues to migrate down the same aisle again, lost in her own thoughts. She gazes into her trolley. Five big packets of crisps, two bags of KP nuts, four loaves of bread, two slabs of butter. What else does she need? Teabags, right. And fillings for the sandwiches.
She shouldn’t have to do this alone, she thinks, as she bypasses pissed off shoppers who give her dirty looks for attempting to squeeze past them. But who else will help? Kealen hasn’t returned from Australia in two years, and he’s too busy with his own family anyway. She hasn’t even bothered to message him to let him know that Aaron’s been found. And if he has seen anything on social media, he hasn’t attempted to make contact. They have never really been close, so why start now? He had rung her when Aaron initially went missing and gave his apologies. He had tried to ring once a week thereafter, after only speaking maybe two or three times a year, but it started to dwindle down to once a month, before he stopped altogether. Last time they spoke was for her birthday three months ago. It was nothing more than a courteous ‘happy birthday Auntie Nuala’ text with a picture of his two gorgeous girls.
Their mother is far too old to be blustering about a shop, she can barely make her way from the armchair to her bed in the tiny flat she rents just outside Newbuildings. She had been a huge help in the first few months after Aaron had gone missing. Helping out in the house and keeping them all sane. Agreeing to babysit Michelle when Nuala couldn’t sleep and had wanted to search in the dead of night. She had even hidden her cancer scare from them all, deciding that they’d had enough on their plate. Her ill health continued, and after the diabetes diagnosis last Christmas, she’s nothing more than the shell of the woman she once was. Kealen would sink to the ground if he seen the shape of her now. Thankfully, their mother doesn’t agree to any FaceTime or Skype calls, deeming her wrinkly skin as the reason, wanting to remember herself as a younger woman.
And all her friends have as good as ditched her. They were all there for her at the start, but she more or less pushed them away after Aaron’s disappearance. She refused to go on nights out or even brunch dates. She just wanted to wallow in her own self-pity. She understood that life goes on. For them, but not for her. Juggling the kids, fighting with the government and trying to keep up a search with dwindling interest. It was exhausting. She had to learn to do it on her own.
“Watch where you’re going!”
She looks up to a woman with a trolley full of meal deals huffing away from her, giving her dagger glares. Nuala had almost trodden straight into her. Nuala apologises before reverting up the freezer aisle, how had she managed to make it here? The supermarket is so packed, it’s doing nothing for her nerves. Finding the cooked meats section, she gasps when she sees there are only three packets of ham left. With six pieces in each pack. Surely that isn’t enough? That would only make 30 sandwiches. She jumps again as a toddler springs past her, laughing ludicrously with a 20 packet of fish fingers in his sticky hands as his dad jogs after him.
The lights are so bright. The hum of the fridge is so loud. It’s almost deafening. She claps a hand to one of her ears and squeezes her eyes closed. Just wanting to shut everything out. Shut everything up. What’s going on? She finds herself struggling to breathe. Oh, God. Is she having a stroke? A heart attack? As she gasps for air, a teenage girl to her left gazes at her inquisitively. Is she asking if she’s okay? Her mouth is moving but no words are forming. She just hears a piercing sound in her left ear.
Leaning all her weight on the trolley, it skids away from her and she collapses onto the hard floor, landing on her hand and feeling a crunch of pain. She cries out but she can’t hear even herself. Rolling over, she stares up at the white lights of the supermarket ceiling beaming down on her. Wondering if this is it. If this is when she’s going to finally be reunited with Aaron.
Chapter Fifty-Seven:
They aren’t expecting to see Taylor looking so smug in the interview room. As they go about the preliminaries, he just continues to glare at them with a broad grin. Even his solicitor looks uncomfortable.
“Well done, gentlemen,” he erupts before they have a chance to ask the first question. “You’ve done it. You’ve always wanted me here… And now you’ve managed it. So, what silly little story have you conjured up now? It best be a good one, as you can’t keep me in here much longer without any evidence.”
He raises his eyebrows at them. He’s toying with them. McNally leans back in his seat, observing him. He was expecting the cruel underground lord to come out like it did for half a second last night. But instead, he’s still braving this front that he’s in control. That won’t last long.
“Why do you think you’re here, Mr Taylor?”
Taylor snorts.
“Haven’t a clue… Maybe… Jealousy?”
McNally and Ferguson can’t help but share a concerned look between themselves.
“Jealousy, Mr Taylor?” Ferguson narrows his eyes at him.
“Aye. After all, you seen my house. You seen my cars. And I came from nothing. Didn’t I? Brought up to two dole-head parents. I decided I wasn’t going to be like that. That I was going to make something of my life… And I did. And you can’t accept that. Because of me wanting to make this country a
