He doubted saying no would get him any further, but would probably result in the closing of the door once again. “Yes,” he said, smiling. “Is she here?”
She smiled back. “I’m sorry Mr… what did you say your name was?”
“It’s Jack Ruttle, but just call me Jack.”
“Jack,” she said pleasantly, “she’s not here. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I don’t suppose you could tell me where she is?” He kept smiling, knowing it had the potential to be far more of an awkward moment, a perfect stranger interrogating a mother on the whereabouts of her child.
“Where is she?” she repeated thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Jack. Would she want me to tell you where she is?”
They both laughed and Jack shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I’m not sure how I could possibly convince you of that.” He held his hands out, admitting defeat. “Look, I don’t know what I was expecting when I got here but I just thought I’d take a chance. I’m very sorry for bothering you. Could I leave a message for her? Could you tell her that I’m looking for her and that…” He paused and tried to think of something that could convince Sandy to crawl out of her hiding place if she was in that house listening to him right now. “Could you tell her that I can’t do this without her. She’ll know what I’m talking about.”
She nodded, studying him all the while. “I’ll pass the message on.”
“Thank you.” There was a pause and Jack prepared to wrap it up.
“You’re not a Leitrim boy, by the sounds of it.”
He smiled. “Limerick.”
She mulled that over. “She was going to visit you last week?”
“Yes.”
“The one thing I do know about my daughter, she rang me on her way to Glin, was it?” She smiled and it faded quickly. “She was looking for someone of yours?”
Jack nodded, feeling like a teenager faced by a nightclub bouncer and hoping by his silence he would be allowed in.
Mrs. Shortt was quiet while she pondered what to do. She looked up and down the road. A neighbor across the road raised a garden glove to her and she waved back. Perhaps feeling less threatened, she made her decision. “Come inside,” she said, and motioned to him, moving away from the door, heading back down the hall.
Jack looked up and down the road. The neighbor watched him reluctantly step into the house. He smiled awkwardly. He could hear Mrs. Shortt in the kitchen clattering cups and plates. He heard the kettle go on. The inside of the house was as immaculate as the outside. The front door led directly into the living room. It smelled of furniture polish and fresh air, as though all the windows had been left open for the scents of the garden to rush inside. There was no clutter. The carpet was vacuumed, silver and brasses gleamed, wood shone.
“I’m in here, Jack,” Mrs. Shortt called out, as though they were lifelong friends.
He went through to the unsurprisingly gleaming kitchen. The washing machine was running, RTE Radio 1 was on in the background, and the kettle was building up its crescendo to boiling point. From the kitchen there were French doors that led out to the back garden and again it was as well maintained as the front, with a large birdhouse, currently accommodating a greedy-looking robin singing between each peck at the seeds.
“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Shortt,” Jack said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”
“You can call me Susan, and you’re welcome.” She filled the teapot with boiling water, covered it with a tea cozy and waited. Jack hadn’t had tea like that since his mother used to make it. Despite welcoming him into her home, Susan was still on guard and stood by the counter with one hand on the tea cozy, the other fiddling with a tea bag. “You’re the first friend of Sandy’s to call by since she was a teenager.” She looked deep in thought.
Jack didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Everybody after that knew better.” She smiled. “How well do you know Sandy?”
“Not well enough.”
“No,” she said more to herself, “I didn’t think so.”
“Every day that I search for her, I learn something new about her,” he added.
“You’re searching for her?” She raised her eyebrows.
“That’s why I’m here, Mrs. Shortt-”
“Susan, please.” She looked pained. “I look around for Harold’s mother and the scent of cabbage when I hear that name. Everything was cabbage, cabbage, cabbage with that woman.” She laughed at the memory.
“Susan.” He smiled. “The last thing I came here to do is worry you, but I was due to meet with Sandy last week, as you mentioned. She didn’t show up and since then I’ve done everything to try to contact her.” He deliberately left out the details about finding her car and phone. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he insisted, “but I really want-” He started again. “I really need to find her.” Sending Sandy’s mother into a panic was the very opposite of his intentions and he held his breath awaiting her response. He was relieved if not a little shocked to see a tired smile crawl onto her face but it gave up, collapsing in a sad heap before reaching her eyes.
“You’re right, Jack, you certainly don’t know our Sandy well enough.” She turned her back to him to pour the tea. “Now let me teach you another thing about my daughter. I love her very much but she has the ability to hide as expertly as a sock in a washing machine. No one knows where it goes, just as no one knows where she goes, but at least when she decides to come back, we’re all here, waiting for her.”
“I’ve heard that from everyone this week.”
She whisked around. “Who else did you speak to?”
“Her landlord, her clients, her doctor…” His voice trailed off guiltily. “I really didn’t want to have to call on you about this.”
“Her doctor?” Susan asked, not minding at all that she had been left until last. She was more interested in the mention of her daughter’s doctor.
“Yes, Dr. Burton,” Jack said slowly, not sure whether to reveal Sandy’s private information to her mother.
“Oh!” Susan tried to hide a smile.
“You know him?”
“Do you know by any chance if it’s Gregory Burton?” She tried to hide her excitement but failed miserably.
“That’s him, but he isn’t so keen on me, in case you’re talking to him.”
“Indeed,” Susan said thoughtfully, not hearing what he’d said. “Indeed,” she repeated with her eyes alight, answering a question Jack wasn’t privy to. She was clearly delighted, but remembering Jack was in the room, she composed herself, intrigue taking the place of a mother’s excitement. “Why is it that you want to find Sandy so much?”
“I was worried about her when she didn’t turn up to meet me in Glin, and then I was unable to contact her, which made me even more concerned.” It was partly true but it sounded lame and he knew it.
Susan appeared to know it too. She raised her eyebrows and spoke in a bored tone. “I’ve been waiting for three weeks for Barney the plumber to come and fix my sink but I haven’t yet planned on visiting his mother.”
Jack looked absentmindedly at her sink. “Well, Sandy is looking for my brother. I even got in touch with a member of the Gardaí in Limerick.” He felt his face flush as Susan let out a sound of surprise. “Graham Turner is his name, in case he calls.”
Susan smiled. “We called the police on three occasions at the beginning but we’ve learned not to, now. If Garda Turner asks around he’ll know not to continue with his investigations.”
“He’s already done that,” Jack said grimly, and then he frowned. “I don’t understand all this, Susan. I can’t understand where she’s gone. I can’t fathom how she can disappear so cleverly without anyone knowing where she is, without anyone wanting to know where she is.”
“We each have our hiding places and we each put up with the little quirks of the people we love.” She rested her head on her hand and seemed to study him.