Monday 1st June
The Guards called at Gran’s the next day while I was playing Teddy Detectives – an awesome little game whereby I gathered all my bears in a Poirot-style denouement so that the secret of Maryanne’s disappearance could be dramatically revealed.
Mum said the game was ‘in poor taste’ and wouldn’t it be nicer if I learned to play draughts?
Dad said draughts was boring-as-shite and asked to join in.
My stuffed penguin metamorphosed into Gabe McShea – a well-known drunk and the last person, according to Jacqui, to see Maryanne, heading up the Long Road towards the town. Dad mimicked him perfectly, slurring his speech as he swore his innocence and lashing out with his flipper when any other teddy so much as looked in his direction.
I laughed so hard that my cheeks started to sting.
Pat Hannon took the form of Brown Bear, an ancient scraggy thing we’d found wedged between a mower and a wheelbarrow in Gran’s dilapidated back shed. He smelt a bit of turps and his right ear wasn’t long for this world, but the frayed stitching around his mouth gave Brown Bear the kind of twisted, malevolent smirk we thought perfect for our prime suspect. He reminded me of some of the men who held meetings in the back room of our pub.
And into this nonsense walked two Guards. A hefty great wardrobe of a man who plonked himself in the best chair while Gran stood crooked against the Aga, and a younger man who said very little, except ‘I will, yeah’ to every offer of biscuits and tea.
The Big Guard picked up Brown Bear by his raggedy left paw and said, ‘Well, hello there, little fella,’ before making him dance a stupid jig on his knee. With this one silly gesture, he managed to strip Brown Bear of his ugly, threatening menace and I hated him in that moment for ruining our brilliant game.
‘Do you think Teddy might know where Maryanne is?’ The Big Guard said, winking at Mum and Dad, utterly charmed with himself.
I told him Teddy didn’t talk to the filth and that shut him up good and proper.
Dad let out a roar, a bone-shaking belly-laugh that startled Rosie, Gran’s dog.
Mum didn’t look quite so amused.
‘So Jacqui’s name has come up,’ The Big Guard went on, all stern and business-like now after his failed attempt at being ‘good-with-kids’. ‘Could we just have a quick word? Nothing formal, just a chat at this stage.’
The ‘at this stage’ seemed to irk Dad, who’d been friendly and chatty up to this point, laughing about various characters in the village with the Big Guard and ribbing the other one about a big match his Gaelic football team had thrown away at the weekend.
‘Jacqui’s not here,’ said Dad, landing another pot of tea on the table. This wasn’t a lie. Jacqui’d gone AWOL since breakfast when she’d got a pasting from Mum for asking whether it’d be insensitive to go over to Maryanne’s to get her Chili Peppers CD back. ‘But when she does get in, shall I send her up to the station for your “quick word”? Or is O’Malley’s a safer bet?’
The Big Guard glowered at Dad but said nothing.
‘What?’ said Dad, laughing, his face now the picture of innocence. ‘Isn’t that where you lads drink nowadays? I tell you, they’ve gone awful strict on the drink driving back in England but if an officer of the law can’t have a pint or two at lunchtime, what’s the world coming to, eh?’
The Big Guard laughed too. ‘You’re very good, sir, very good.’ A nod towards Gran. ‘Quite the comedian you’ve got here, Agnes. He’d sell out the Royal Theatre, no bother.’
Dad laughed again and I felt confused that people kept laughing at things that weren’t even funny, like Noel and his stupid South Park or Dad with that barmaid in the pub.
‘Just a bit of craic, Sergeant. No offence meant.’ Dad offered out his hand and the room held its breath. Eventually the Big guard grabbed hold. ‘Rest assured, I’ll send Jacqui your way as soon as she’s back, although God knows when that’ll be? You know how it is, we were all young once, eh.’
‘Ah sure, no bother, we’ll speak to her when we speak to her.’ The Big Guard looked at his watch then stood up quickly, a bit panicked. ‘Mother of God, we’ve been here over an hour, can you believe that? Come on you,’ he said to the younger one, ‘let’s not take up any more of these good folks’ time.’
They walked to the door but then the Big Guard stopped, seeming to change his mind about something at the last minute. ‘Although, while we’re here, I might as well ask you, Mr McBride – have you ever had any dealings with Maryanne Doyle yourself?’
‘Dealings? No, none at all. I mean, I saw her around once or twice. In the Diner. Maybe Grogan’s? But I don’t know the girl, I’ve never spoken to her. Terrible business though, isn’t it? I hope you find her. I hope she’s OK.’
The Big Guard opened the door a crack and the dog squeezed herself out. At school we’d learned about a panda who’d sensed an earthquake brewing in China.
Dad had said it was a well-known fact that animals had a sixth sense for disaster.