love, come in.’ Gillian stood back, and Caitlin stepped into the hall, shaking the rain from her umbrella before closing the front door. She hadn’t told Gillian what had happened, not yet. Instead, she’d broken down on the phone at the sound of her mother-in-law’s voice, and Gillian had told her immediately to come over, that she shouldn’t be alone, not tonight of all nights. Caitlin had accepted gladly, packed an overnight bag, and driven straight there. All the time the man’s words resounded in her head. David’s alive, he’d said, but who was he, and what did he know? She had to find out.
‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t talk on the phone, Gillian …’ She stood before her mother-in-law and pulled at her gloves, wondering if she had done the right thing in coming.
Gillian put her hand on her arm. ‘Has something happened?’
Caitlin nodded, she couldn’t keep this to herself. She had to confide in someone. And Gillian was the mother she’d never had. They’d hit it off as soon as David had introduced them.
‘I got a call just before you rang. It was a man. He said that David … that he was alive. He said I’m not to try to find him … that if I did, it would be dangerous … I don’t know what to make of it. I mean, why now, why today? Whoever he is, he must know something.’
Gillian’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Did he say who he was? Did he give you any information to go on?’
Caitlin shook her head. ‘He hung up before I could ask him anything.’
‘Have you called the guards?’
‘No, I was going to … but then I thought about what he said. I mean, what if it is dangerous? What if David’s alive and something happens to him if we get the guards involved? I don’t know what to do … that’s why I came over … I had to tell someone, do something … I’m not even sure I should be here.’
Caitlin took off her coat and followed Gillian into the living room where a fire burned, and a soap opera played on the television. Gillian picked up the remote control and put the TV on mute. They sat opposite each other, Caitlin on the sofa and Gillian in her armchair by the fire.
‘What did this man sound like?’ Gillian leaned forward, eager for information.
Caitlin shrugged, trying to remember the voice. ‘I don’t know. His accent was neutral. Definitely Irish; I think I’d have noticed otherwise. His exact words were “David’s alive. But don’t try to find him. It could be dangerous for both of you.” I wonder who he meant … David and me, I presumed – but he could have meant us, couldn’t he? That it would be dangerous for you and me to try to find him. I don’t know what to do, whether to call the police or not?’
Gillian hesitated. ‘Okay, if what this man says is true, if David’s alive, then he’s not likely to come to any immediate harm. It’s been a year, Cait, and wherever he is, he’s been safe.’
‘You think we should call the Guards then?’
‘I don’t know. I mean it could be a hoax, someone who read about David in the paper.’
Caitlin thought of the calls the guards had received in the initial stages of the investigation. They’d had numerous reported sightings of David, none of which had led anywhere. ‘It would be strange though, no? It’s been months since anything’s appeared in the paper. Why would someone decide to make a call now and not before?’
‘I don’t know, Cait. We have to look at all the possibilities. I don’t want to get my hopes up. Not again.’
Caitlin nodded. ‘Oh, Gillian, I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have even told you, but I couldn’t keep it to myself …’
Gillian stood up and placed another log on the fire. ‘What about that detective, the one we hired before? Would it be worth getting in touch with him?’
Caitlin shook her head. ‘No, he didn’t turn up anything last time. And I didn’t get the impression he’d tried very hard either.’
‘Okay, I think we should tell the guards then. We can do it discreetly – not call from either of our phones-– but from someplace else. There’s every chance that this call is a hoax, Caitlin, you have to be prepared for that, but we won’t rest easy if we don’t report it. We both know that.’
Caitlin nodded. ‘I’ll make the call from work tomorrow. No one can overhear me in the office. I’ll tell them our concerns about contacting them. I can’t see that they’ll do very much – we’re not providing them with any new information, but at least I’ll have told them.’
Gillian sighed. ‘Hope is what keeps me going, the thought that we’ll see David again. But every time I get my hopes up, it comes to nothing and I suffer the same pain all over again. Sometimes, I think it would be better to accept the fact that David’s not coming back. It sounds terrible, doesn’t it? But I have to get past the suffering – maybe acceptance is the only way. And you … you can’t put your life on hold. You’re a young woman …’
Caitlin got up, crossed to Gillian and took her hand. ‘Don’t say that, Gillian. Don’t give up … we can’t. Maybe this call will turn out to be something. David’s out there somewhere, I’m sure of it.’ She squeezed her mother-in-law’s fingers, thankful that, terrible as the past year had been, it had brought them closer together. She didn’t know what she’d do without Gillian in her life. No matter what happened, she had to preserve that. ‘Do you mind if I stay tonight?’ she asked. ‘I don’t feel like going home; I don’t think I could face it.’
David’s mother put her arm around her. ‘You know you’re always welcome, Cait. I’d be glad of the company. You don’t even have to ask. You’ve still got a key, don’t you? Come over anytime, even if I’m not here, you can let yourself in. This is your home too, same as it was David’s.’
Caitlin nodded. With a lump in her throat, she didn’t trust herself to answer. Instead, she hugged Gillian, then got up and said she’d put the kettle on. In the kitchen, she stood at the sink and looked out at the rain beating against the window. Gillian had unmuted the television and the homely sound of chatter filled the room. She could feel David here in this house, could imagine him coming up behind her, arms wrapping round her waist as he used to do. She almost expected to see his reflection in the windowpane. Christ, there were times when she couldn’t bear it. She took a deep breath to steady herself; this wasn’t the time to come undone, not now.
The rain was coming down in sheets as Michelle and Conor made their way from the premises on Capel Street onto the quays, their backpacks loaded with sandwiches and flasks of hot tea and soup. Michelle checked her phone, as she had been doing compulsively all afternoon, while Conor poured soup for the homeless man on the bridge, and then took from his pocket some treats for the Jack Russell who sat obediently by the man’s side. No messages. She put the phone away and stooped to fondle the dog’s ears.
‘How’s it going, Tommy?’ she asked the man.
He nodded and slurped the soup. She didn’t ask if he was hoping to get into a shelter; he’d told her before that he was a loner, that all he needed was the dog, Buddy, for company. ‘Have you eaten at all today, Tommy?’ she asked. The man stopped to think.
‘Had the best steak you can imagine,’ he said, ‘back in 1993.’ He laughed at his own joke as he unwrapped the tuna sandwiches Conor had given him. The dog was crunching on a biscuit as they closed their backpacks and moved on.
Michelle was used to the run. Usually, she even enjoyed it. Nick had asked her if it wasn’t too dangerous, but she told him, no, that the volunteers always went out