Strange Sally Diamond

Mark came over after work and I brought him up to date with how Toby had led us to New Zealand. ‘Toby?’ he said, alert. I explained about the bear. He asked if we could use Dad’s computer to look up the New Zealand newspaper coverage. We pored over page after page, photofits and 3D models of what Conor Geary might look like now. There was nothing in the news reports that Detective Inspector Howard hadn’t already told me. Mark’s demeanour was grim. ‘I saw the renewed appeal at the time but I didn’t know it was connected to Toby. Are you sure you don’t remember anything about him, about that time in captivity?’

‘No, don’t you think I’d help catch him if I could? Denise hardly spoke of him either.’

‘How do you know?’

‘It’s all in my dad’s notes.’

‘What notes?’

I explained about Dad’s diaries and medical notes.

‘May I see them?’

‘Why?’

‘I want to help you, Sally.’

‘I don’t think that’s appropriate. I don’t need your help. I can read perfectly well. They’re the private medical records of my birth mother and me.’

‘But, you know, a fresh eye might see something that you missed. I could look at them more dispassionately?’

‘There is almost nothing about Conor Geary in there.’

‘But maybe there are clues?’

‘There are no clues.’

‘But how do you know? You have a literal mind. I might be able to see some subtlety that you missed.’

His persistence infuriated me.

‘The guards have copies. They have investigated them thoroughly. Angela, my doctor and friend, has been through them with me. Mark, can you leave now, please? Your manner is making me uncomfortable.’

His smiley demeanour had disappeared. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but seemed to stop himself. Now, he was suddenly contrite.

‘God, I’m so sorry. I get carried away. This case was such huge news in my childhood.’

‘Everyone says that.’

He looked at me and I couldn’t tell if he was sad or angry or happy. I definitely did not feel comfortable.

‘Mark, will you please leave?’

‘Yes, I shouldn’t …’ He didn’t finish the sentence but grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and left.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to be Mark’s friend or not. He seemed to have a dark side.

Next day, he apologized again for ‘being so intense’. Tina said I should accept apologies if they were sincere. So I did.

I welcomed the distraction of the cottage. Nadine and I had visited the derelict building on Bracken Lane three times. It was a shell. The walls were intact, but the roof had caved in on the left side. Nadine made sketches of what she thought it could look like. Her enthusiasm was contagious.

The survey results returned a list of problems, the most prominent of which was that there was an underground stream which tended to swell in the winter. That explained why the floorboards were rotten throughout. Nadine saw this as a challenge to elevate the interior and expose the stream and make it a feature by having a thick glass floor panel running through the sitting room with underground lights that illuminated it in the evening.

Nadine said if I bought it, she would project manage the whole thing for 10 per cent of the cost. It had been vacant for twenty years. After three days of negotiations, the owners accepted my offer on 2nd April 2019. Nadine thought it would be ready to move into by late autumn.

Now there was the small matter of selling my own house and land. My house was already clean so I didn’t have to do much tidying, but the estate agent suggested that the site would be more valuable than the house and that I shouldn’t bother repainting it. I was scared of change. Tina said it was progress: embracing change.

Mark and I met for coffee or a drink a few times with Udo and Martha, or Anubha and Sue and Kenneth, and once at a barbecue in Mark’s apartment on Easter Sunday, 21st April. The barbecue was on the balcony. He lived in the same block as Kenneth and Sue. He was a perfect gentleman on all of these occasions although, annoyingly, he never failed to ask me if there were any further developments in the search for Conor Geary.

I liked the way he played with all of the children and did magic tricks to entertain them. He and Anubha seemed to keep their distance from each other. Mark confided that he didn’t think she was interested.

I had started shopping in the small Gala supermarket on the village’s main street. It took me a while to orientate myself and get used to what was on offer in each aisle. They had a surprisingly large range of goods, and when I asked for fresh curry leaves (for one of Jamie Oliver’s recipes), the nice lady said they would order some in especially. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I think we need to expand our range of ethnic ingredients here. We don’t want to lose all our business to the supermarket in Roscommon.’

I showed her another recipe and she noted all the ingredients and assured me that they’d definitely be stocking them in future. Her name badge said Laura. I began to introduce myself. ‘Oh, we know who you are!’ she said. ‘You’re famous around here.’