Luke lowered his head and quietly put the fireman back on his ladder. The woman let out an exasperated screech, threw her hands in the air and turned on her heel. There was a crack as the heel of her shoe became lodged between the cobbles of the drive. The woman shook her leg wildly, growing more frustrated by the second, and eventually the shoe flew out, but the heel remained lodged between the crack.
‘FUUUUCCCK!’ she yelled. Hobbling on one high heel and what was now one flat pump, she made her way back up the front porch. The fuchsia door was slammed shut and she was swallowed back up by the house. The windows, door knob and the letter box smiled at me again and I smiled back.
‘Who are you smiling at?’ Luke asked with a frown on his face.
‘The door,’ I replied, thinking it an obvious answer.
He just stared at me with the same frown, his mind evidently lost in the thoughts of what he had just seen, and the oddity of smiling at a door.
We could see the woman with the phone through the glass of the front door, pacing the hall.
‘Who is she?’ I asked, turning to Luke.
He was clearly shaken.
‘That’s my aunt,’ he almost whispered. ‘She looks after me.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Who was the one in the car?’
Luke slowly pushed the fire engine through the grass, flattening the blades as he went along. ‘Oh, her. That’s Saoirse,’ he said quietly. ‘She’s my mom.’
‘Oh.’ There was a silence and I could tell he was sad. ‘Seer-sha,’ I repeated the name, liking how it felt when I said it; like the wind blowing out of my mouth in one big gust or how the trees sounded when they talked to one another on windy days. ‘Seeeeer-ssshaaaa…’ I eventually stopped when Luke looked at me oddly.
I picked a buttercup out of the ground and held it under Luke’s chin. A yellow glow appeared on his pale skin. ‘You like butter,’ I stated. ‘So Saorise’s not your girlfriend then?’
Luke’s face immediately lit up and he giggled. Not as much as before, though.
‘Who’s your friend Barry that you mentioned?’ Luke asked, smashing into my car much harder than before.
‘Barry McDonald is his name,’ I smiled, remembering the games me and Barry used to play.
Luke’s eyes lit up. ‘Barry McDonald is in my class in school!’
Then it clicked. ‘I knew I knew your face from somewhere, Luke. I used to see you everyday when I went to school with Barry.’
‘You went to school with Barry?’ he said, surprised.
‘Yeah, school was fun with Barry,’ I laughed.
Luke narrowed his eyes, ‘Well, I didn’t see you there.’
I started laughing. ‘Well, of course you didn’t see me, you silly sod,’ I said matter-of-factly.
Elizabeth’s heart hammered loudly against her chest, as, having slipped on another pair of shoes, she paced the long maple-floored hall of her home. With the phone pressed hard between her ear and shoulder, her mind was a blizzard of thoughts as she listened to the shrill ring tone in her ear.
She stopped pacing long enough to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Her brown eyes widened with horror. Rarely did she allow herself to look so bedraggled. So out of control. Strands of her chocolate-brown hair were fleeing from the tight French pleat, causing her to appear as though she had placed her fingers in an electric socket. Mascara nestled in the lines under her eyes; her lipstick had faded, leaving only her plum-coloured lipliner as a frame, and her foundation clung to the dry patches of her olive skin. Gone was the usual pristine look. This caused her heart to beat faster, the panic to accelerate.
Breathe, Elizabeth, just breathe, she told herself. She ran a trembling hand over her tousled hair, forcing the wild hairs back down. She wiped the mascara away with a wet finger, pursed her lips together, smoothed down her suit jacket and cleared her throat. It was simply a momentary lapse of concentration on her part, that was all. Not to happen again. She transferred the phone to her left ear and noticed the impression of her Claddagh earring against her neck. Such was the pressure of her shoulder’s grip on the phone against her skin.
Finally someone answered and Elizabeth turned her back on the mirror to stand to attention. Back to business.
‘Hello, Baile na gCroíthe Garda Station.’
Elizabeth winced as she recognised the voice on the phone. ‘Hi, Marie, Elizabeth here… again. Saoirse’s gone off with the car,’ she paused, ‘again.’
There was a gentle sigh on the other end of the phone. ‘How long ago, Elizabeth?’
Elizabeth sat down on the bottom stair and settled in for the usual line of questioning. She closed her eyes, only meaning to rest them briefly, but at the relief of blocking everything out she kept them closed. ‘Just five minutes ago.’
‘Right. Did she say where she was going?’
‘The moon,’ she replied matter-of-factly.
‘Excuse me?’ Marie asked.
‘You heard me. She said she was going to the moon,’ Elizabeth said firmly. ‘Apparently people will understand her there.’
‘The moon,’ Marie repeated.
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth replied, feeling irritated. ‘You could perhaps start looking for her on the motorway. I would imagine that if you were heading to the moon that would be the quickest way to get there, wouldn’t you? Although I’m not entirely sure which exit she would take. Whichever is more northerly, I suppose. She could be headed north-east to Dublin, or, who knows, she could be making her way to Cork; perhaps they’ve a plane that can take her off this planet. Either way, I’d check the motor—’
‘Relax, Elizabeth; you know I have to ask.’
‘I know.’ Elizabeth tried to calm herself again. She was missing an important meeting right now. Important for her, important for her interior design business. Luke’s babysitter was standing in as a replacement for his nanny, Edith. Edith had left a few weeks ago for the three months of travelling the world she had threatened Elizabeth with for the past six years, leaving the young babysitter inexperienced to the ways of Saoirse. She had rung her at work in a panic… again… and Elizabeth had to drop everything… again… and rush home… again. But she shouldn’t be surprised that this had happened… again. She was, however, surprised that Edith, apart from the current trip to Australia, was still turning up to work every day. Six years she had been helping Elizabeth with Luke, six years of drama, and still after all her years of loyalty, Elizabeth expected a phone call or her letter of resignation practically every day. Being Luke’s nanny came with a lot of baggage. Then again, so did being Luke’s adoptive parent.
‘Elizabeth, are you still there?’
‘Yes.’ Her eyes shot open. She was losing concentration. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘I asked you what car she took.’
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and made a face at the phone. ‘The same one, Marie. The same bloody car as last week, and the week before and the week before that,’ she snapped.
Marie remained firm, ‘Which is the—’
‘BMW,’ she interrupted. ‘The same damn black BMW 330 Cabriolet. Four wheels, two doors, one steering wheel, two wing mirrors, lights and—’
‘A partridge in a pear tree,’