Cafferty’s Bar was lively for a Thursday night. Beer taps with frosted lights teased the punters. Multiple television sets were showing the dying minutes of a football match.

Kirby ordered a pint and a glass of wine. Gilly sat in the nook furthest from the football activity.

‘Bit loud, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Adds to the atmosphere,’ he said.

‘Depends on what atmosphere you’re expecting.’

The barman arrived with the drinks and Kirby handed over a tenner. ‘Keep the change.’

‘Play was good. Thanks for bringing me,’ Gilly said. ‘I thought you might be working tonight.’

‘New super called it all off. Tend to agree with him, too. We were getting nowhere. I prefer working on the murder investigation.’

‘Boyd was asking me about that this evening. You know I go running at weekends out at Rochfort Gardens? Elizabeth Byrne did too. He asked if I knew her or saw anyone acting suspiciously.’

‘And did you?’

‘No. The only ones acting suspiciously are the old farts sucking in their bellies trying to look thirty years younger.’ She blushed, hoping Kirby didn’t think she meant him. ‘That’s where I first met Mollie.’

Kirby stalled his pint halfway to his mouth. ‘The same Mollie you think has disappeared off the face of the earth?’

‘One and the same.’

‘That’s interesting.’

‘At last.’

‘I’m only saying it’s interesting. I’m not making a drama out of it.’

‘But she always lets me know if she has to cancel a run or anything. It’s a bit out of character, that’s all.’

‘Give her another ring.’

‘I’ve tried countless times. Her phone’s dead now.’

‘Did you check if her passport is in her apartment?’

‘No, but I think it’s unlikely she went off on a holiday. Then again, her father lives in London.’

‘There you are. Mystery solved.’

‘I’ll chase it up tomorrow.’

‘Great. Now, let’s chill and talk about the play.’

‘Maybe we should tell Boyd.’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘What about now?’

‘You’re not going to relax, are you?’

‘Nope.’

Kirby lifted his pint. ‘Drink up so.’

---

Boyd returned to his apartment, tired from the hurling training and still wondering why Father Joe was ringing Lottie. He was heading for the shower when he remembered Grace. She was sitting on the couch watching television.

‘How are you, little sis?’ he shouted from the bedroom. Where had he put the clean towels?

The sound of the television disappeared. He looked up. Grace was standing at the door, staring at him. Accusingly?

‘I really want you to listen to me, Mark. I’m worried about the girl I met on the train yesterday morning. You know me. I get a feeling that tells me when something isn’t right. Like with you. I sense your loneliness.’

‘So?’ He pulled out a towel.

‘You and I both know you’re a lonely middle-aged man.’

‘Hey, go easy on the middle-aged bit.’

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

‘I’m going to have a shower.’

‘Will you listen to me? I definitely feel something has happened to Mollie.’

‘Grace, she might have had a day off work. Maybe she decided to get a different train.’

‘I told you, I know!’ Grace stamped her foot. Then, as if realising what she had done, she retreated to the living area and sat down on the couch. ‘No one ever listens to me. I’m telling you, if anything has happened to her, at least I warned you.’

‘Righto, I’ll remember that, but you’re being irrational. I’m having my shower now. Is that okay with you? And don’t blare the television too loud. I don’t want the neighbours complaining.’ He was finding it hard to treat his sister as a twenty-nine-year-old adult.

‘What neighbours? Do you even know who lives next door? Mark Boyd, you need to get a life.’

With Grace’s words ringing in his ears, he slammed the bathroom door, ripped off his sweaty clothes and turned the shower to cold. He needed to cool down in more ways than one. How was he going to last another three weeks with her here? At least she’d be going back to Mam for the weekend. He hoped so, anyway.

As the water chilled his skin, he switched the dial to hot and thought about his life. The years were getting away from him, and what did he have to show for them? Just an estranged wife whom he had yet to divorce. A sister who was getting on his wick. A mother who barely spoke to him. A woman he loved who wouldn’t even go out to dinner with him.

Nothing.

Nothing worth talking about, anyway. Nothing to leave to a child. He didn’t even have a child. No one to love. His sister, who hadn’t been in the town a week, could read the emptiness hollowing out his very heart.

He slapped his hand against the tiles and lifted his face to the pulsing water. If he was a man prone to shedding tears, he would have cried. But it hadn’t reached that stage yet. Not quite.

When he switched off the shower, he could hear Grace talking in the bedroom.

‘Mark, there’s a phone call for you.’

Maybe it was Lottie, he thought, wrapping a towel around his waist. He hoped he had a clean shirt.

---

By the time he got to the phone, Kirby had hung up. Whatever he wanted could wait until morning. Boyd pulled on a sweatshirt and jogging pants.

‘You hungry?’

‘Do not try to soft-soap me,’ Grace said.

‘I think I’ll muster up a sandwich. Want one?’

She turned around. ‘There are two things I want from you, and a sandwich at this hour of the night is not one of them.’

‘Shoot so.’ He leaned his damp hair back against the cool upholstery.

‘Shoot?’

‘What are the two things you want?’

‘To meet Lottie Parker, and for you to find out where my friend Mollie is.’

He sat forward in the chair and clenched his hands between his long legs. ‘Okay. I’ll organise for you to meet Lottie. Happy?’

‘And Mollie?’

‘I’ll do a search on her address tomorrow. What’s her surname?’

Grace bit her lip.

‘Please tell me you know her full name?’

‘Just Mollie. She lives in Ragmullin and works in Dublin.’

‘That’s not enough.’ He shook his head and reached out a hand to her.

‘Try? For me?’ She gripped his hand so tightly, Boyd thought his fingers must surely be crushed.

‘You’re asking a lot. A first name and the train she normally takes? But because your smile is so sweet, I’ll try.’

He watched as Grace flopped back on the couch, a contented grin spreading across her face. Getting up to make his sandwich, he thought about Elizabeth Byrne. He shook himself. This business with Mollie was probably nothing more than Grace getting caught up in the imaginary world that he remembered her having in childhood.

Searching the refrigerator for sandwich fillings, he noticed there was absolutely nothing to eat.

‘Grace, have you been raiding the fridge?’

‘You need to shop for two, you know.’

She hadn’t answered his question. Bread and butter would have to do until tomorrow.

The doorbell rang.