Hush Now, Don't You Cry(58)

“And how is your poor husband, Mrs. Sullivan?” Mrs. Flannery asked.

“Much better, thank you. Definitely on the mend.”

“That’s good news,” Joseph said. “You’ll no doubt be wanting to get him home as quickly as possible. I’m sure we could arrange transportation for you.”

“That’s kind, but the doctor stressed that Daniel was not to be moved for a while, at least until he says so.”

I noticed a flicker of annoyance cross Joseph’s face. I wondered why he was so very keen on removing us from the premises. The thought crossed my mind that we had accidentally seen him arriving early with his ladylove and perhaps he wanted that fact concealed from the family. I wondered if he had any other secrets he didn’t want universally known.

“Of course the poor man can’t be moved yet, Jo. What were you thinking?” Mary Flannery said sharply. “It’s not as if they’re bothering you, stuck away in that poky little cottage.”

“It’s a very comfortable little cottage,” Joseph said. “As you know, I enjoy staying there myself.”

“And we well know its attraction for you,” Terrence said smoothly and got a look of venom from his father. Terrence turned to me without batting an eyelid. “Do have a scone and jam, Mrs. Sullivan, or would you prefer to start with a sandwich? They’re watercress or potted shrimp, I believe.”

I took a shrimp sandwich, feeling awkward now—the cuckoo in another bird’s nest—and wished I hadn’t accepted their invitation. I could easily have said that Daniel couldn’t be left alone and now here I was sitting among people who clearly didn’t want me there. I nibbled at my sandwich.

“What I want to know is how long we’re expected to hang around here, doing nothing,” Joseph said. “I should be back in the office tomorrow, especially now I’ll have to take over Brian’s share of the work too.”

“You know we can’t go anywhere until the police have released Irene’s father’s body,” Archie said. “And we still need to come to a decision on funeral arrangements.”

“That’s another reason for being able to go back to the city tomorrow,” Joseph said. “A visit to his attorney and the reading of his will should clear up a lot of things for us. Until then we can’t proceed.”

“It would be funny if he’d left the whole kit and caboodle to the least likely of us,” Terrence said, with his customary grin. “To young Sam, maybe.”

Sam blushed bright red. “Don’t be silly, Terry,” he said. “You saw what he thought of me. I was the messenger boy. At least you got an office, even if you never worked in it.”

“Hey, none of your cheek, young fella,” Terrence said. “Some of us are not cut out for the daily grind. I’ve got the brains, others can have the brawn.”

“Then it’s about time we saw a demonstration of the use of those brains,” Joseph said coldly. “Frankly the way you’ve been acting recently would indicate to me that you have no brains at all—or at least no common sense.”

“Please, please.” Irene held up her hand. “None of this bickering. We have a guest and my father is not yet resting in his grave. Don’t you think I’ve had enough to upset me recently?”

Archie put a hand on her shoulder. “There, there, my dear. Do not distress yourself. Have another cup of tea.” He glared at Joseph and Terrence. “You should know how hard it is for Irene even to come to this confounded place. Every time she’s here it’s a reminder of what she lost. And now her father lying dead in the same spot. Well, have a little consideration please.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. I looked out at the sailboats on the ocean, wishing I were somewhere else.

“Mama, when can we start playing again?” Alex asked. “We’re bored.”

“And you’ll learn to show a little respect too, young man,” Archie snapped. “One does not play nor make merry in any way when there is a death in the family. We are in mourning.”

“Well then, shouldn’t we be eating gruel or dry bread rather than these éclairs?” Terrence asked. “They are sinfully good.”

“One day, Terrence, you’ll go too far,” Eliza said.

“As you and Mama have often told me.” Terrence deliberately took a big bite of éclair. “I wish that dratted policeman would return with some news. Was he or wasn’t he? It’s quite putting me off from eating a second éclair.”

“If he was, then you would be a prime suspect,” Eliza said.