Page 98 of 56 Days
She sniffs, smiles a little, sadly. “This is happening to you, too, you know.”
“I know, but... I never knew the same woman you did. Or at least, I can’t remember her if I did.”
“That woman died seventeen years ago.” Siobhán wipes away a tear, keeping her eye makeup intact. “This will be her second death. Or maybe even her third, after...”
She trails off.
She won’t say his name. They never do.
“At least this time,” Siobhán says, “we’ll get to grieve.”
“Did they say how long?”
“Anywhere from one to six months was his best guess.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Itisthat.”
Ciara gives her sister’s hand a squeeze before letting go.
Siobhán straightens up, collecting herself, and turns her attention to the menu—God knows why, because they meet here once a month and they always order the same thing: two club sandwiches with fries, two Cokes, a pot of tea for two after. When the waiter appears and starts reeling off the specials, another ritual is played out: Siobhán silences him with a hand and says, “We know what we’re having, thanks.”
After he’s gone, Ciara asks, “Do you ever think about it, Shiv?”
“What?”
Ciara is unsure of what to call it. She settles on, “Back then. That day.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
Her sister picks up the water jug, pours two glasses. Ciara lets her take a sip, watches her swallow, makes sure she has so she doesn’t start to choke when she says, “I’ve been thinking, lately, about Oliver St Ledger.”
Siobhán freezes, then lifts her head to glare at Ciara,stone-cold.
“I don’t want to hear that name,” she says.
“He’s out there, somewhere—”
“Isaid, I don’t—”
“—living his life, being normal, getting to do all the things—”
“Actingnormal, Ciara.Acting.”
“And that doesn’tbotheryou?”
“It doesn’t do anything to me, because I refuse to let that cretin take up even a single molecule of oxygen in my life. Which is why I’m not having this conversation. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Did they ever tell you what actually happened?”
“Somethingelseelse.” But then Siobhán frowns. “Who’s ‘they’?”
“Mam and Dad.”
“Seriously? The woman who hasn’t even said his name for nearly twenty years and the man who was so traumatized by it all that he tied a rope around the banister outside my childhood bedroom? Why yes. We talked about it all the time. Cozy fireside chats, they were, as I recall.”
“I could do without the sarcasm, Shiv.”
