Goosebumps prick the back of my neck. Fiona’s face is pale, as I’m sure mine is too.
‘What do you mean?’ I have to ask. I have to know if she means what I think she does.
Her eyes soften. The muscles in her face and neck relax. Her shoulders sag and she lets out a sigh. I hold my breath as I wait for her to speak.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says at last. ‘Take no notice of me. I’m a bit tired. Saying things I don’t mean. What is it you say these days? Having a mini melt-down.’ She takes Dad’s hand in hers and strokes it. ‘Don’t you two be worrying now, do you hear me? I’ve got it all under control.’
The goosebumps extend across my shoulders and down my arms. What exactly does she have under control? Herself? Is that what she means? It’s certainly what I want her to mean, but somehow I don’t think it is.
Dad hasn’t woken again and seems to have settled down. The doctor has been to visit and concludes that he’s now in a normal sleep, as indicated by the NREM and EEG readings.
‘He looks very calm,’ says Fiona. ‘Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea with me?’
‘I don’t want to leave him alone,’ says Mum.
‘Erin will stay with Dad.’
‘Yes, you go, Mum,’ I say.
Reluctantly, Mum agrees and leaves the room with Fiona. I take the opportunity to rearrange the chairs and plump up the cushion Mum has brought in from home. A welcome relief from the hard, plastic chair seats.
As I slide one of the chairs over to pick up a tissue from the floor, Mum’s handbag, which is resting on the seat, topples over. Several items fall from the unzipped bag, scattering across the tiled floor.
I mutter a curse under my breath as I drop to my hands and knees to retrieve the items. A lipstick. A packet of tissues. Mobile phone. A key.
I scoop up the items and slip them into the bag. I stop as a gold key slides down my palm. My fingers curl and catch it before it can fall back into the depths of the black-leather handbag.
I open my fingers and study the key in the palm of my hand. It hasn’t been attached to the small bunch of keys Mum usually carries around with her, but I know exactly which lock it fits.
It’s the safe key.
The key that Mum has claimed not to have.
Why is she lying about it?
I make a snap decision. I zip up the bag and replace it on the chair. The gold key, I poke into the front pocket of my jeans.
‘You okay?’ Fiona’s voice makes me jump. I spin round as my sister and mother come back onto the ward.
‘Yes, fine,’ I say, tagging a smile on the end. I glance at my watch. ‘I suppose I had better get back. Early start and all that. What are you doing, Mum? Are you coming back with us?’
‘No, I’ll stay the night, just in case,’ she says, settling herself into the chair.
I feel guilty as a small wave of relief washes over me. It’s wrong to be pleased Mum is staying at the hospital tonight, sat hunched in an uncomfortable hospital chair. However, it gives me the ideal opportunity to look inside the safe.
Saying our goodbyes, Fiona and I leave the hospital.
‘Sean’s working overtime,’ says Fiona, checking her phone as we drive out of the hospital grounds. ‘He texted me to say they are having one last search for Roisin before it gets dark. They’ll start again in the morning.’
‘Did you tell Sean about Roisin stirring up all this trouble?’ I ask. Fiona turns her head to the passing scenery. I ask again. ‘Fiona, did you tell Sean?’
‘No. I didn’t. I was hoping to keep him out of it. I didn’t want to worry him,’ she says, continuing to gaze out of the window. She rests her head against the glass. ‘If Roisin doesn’t turn up, I’m going to have to mention it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he needs to know all the facts before someone gossips in the village and tells him.’
‘But no one knows, other than us.’
‘And Kerry.’
‘He’s no gossip.’
‘Let’s hope he’s not.’
‘He is NOT.’
Fiona turns away from the window. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, but you don’t know him that well.’
‘Let’s agree to disagree. Innocent until proven guilty. I’m sure, married to Sean, you must know that.’ I try to keep the edge out of my voice. I don’t want to fall out with Fiona, but my instinct to defend Kerry is great, even though my sister does have a point about not knowing him that well.
‘It’s not just Kerry, anyway,’ says Fiona. ‘We don’t know what Roisin has told anyone else. What if she’s said something to Diana?’