The Hunter

“Sounds like Johnny, all right,” Lena says. Sheila used to think Johnny was only amazing. Lena doubts she does any more.

“And d’you remember Bernadette Madigan, that I usedta do the choir with? She’s got a wee little antique shop in London now, and didn’t Johnny come in trying to sell her a necklace that he said was diamonds, with some sob story about his wife running off and leaving him with three starving childer. He didn’t recognize her—Bernadette’s after putting on the weight something awful, God love her—but she recognized him, all right. She told him to stick his fake diamonds up his hole.”

“Did she ride him, back in school?” Lena asks.

“That’s her business, not mine,” Noreen says primly. “I’d say so, though, yeah.”

The spark of reassurance in Lena’s mind is fading. Johnny was never crooked, exactly, but it was hard to tell whether that was just happenstance. If he’s happened to drift over that line, who knows how far he might have drifted, and what he might have brought back on his trail. “When’d she see him?” she asks.

“Back before Christmas. The feckin’ eejit—Johnny, not Bernadette. She said a blind man coulda told you those were no diamonds.”

“You never said anything.”

“I hear a lot more than I say,” Noreen informs her with dignity. “You’ve some notion that I’m the biggest gossip in the county, but I can keep my mouth shut when I want. I said nothing to anyone about Johnny’s goings-on, because I knew yourself and Cal were working your arses off to keep that child on the straight and narrow, and I wasn’t going to scupper that by giving her family a worse name than they’ve already got. Now.”

“Now,” Lena says, grinning at her. “That’s me told.”

“It’d better be. How’s the child getting on, anyway?”

“Grand. She’s been over putting a new coat of wax on Nana’s old bed.”

“Ah, that’ll be nice. What does she think of her daddy coming home?”

Lena shrugs. “Trey, sure. She said he was back, and then she said the dog needed feeding, and that was the end of that.”

“That dog’s mad-looking,” Noreen says. “Like it was put together outa bits of other dogs that got left over. Your Daisy needs better taste in fellas.”

“She should’ve consulted you,” Lena says. “You’d’ve had her set up with a gorgeous stud with a pedigree as long as my arm, before she knew what hit her.”

“I don’t see you complaining,” Noreen tells her. Lena tilts her head, acknowledging the hit, and Noreen goes back to work with a little nod of victory. She says, “I heard the child stayed over at yours, after Johnny came home.”

“Fair play to you,” Lena says, impressed. “She did, yeah. Cal gets nervous about her walking up that mountain in the dark. He thinks she’ll fall in a bog. She won’t, but there’s no convincing him.”

Noreen darts Lena a sharp glance. “Pass me over that box there, with the jam. What about Cal?”

Lena nudges the cardboard box along the floor with a foot. “What about him?”

“What does he think about Johnny?”

“Sure, he’s hardly met the man. He hasn’t had a chance to come up with much of an opinion.”

Noreen whips jam jars onto the shelf with expert speed. She says, “Are you planning on marrying that fella?”

“Ah, God, no,” Lena says, going back to the Fruit Pastilles. “White doesn’t suit me.”

“Sure you wouldn’t wear white the second time around anyway, and that’s not the point. What I’m telling you is, if you’re planning on marrying him, there’s no reason to wait. Go on and get the job done.”

Lena looks at her. She inquires, “Is someone dying, are they?”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what are you on about? No one’s dying!”

“Then what’s the rush?”

Noreen gives her a prickly stare and goes back to the jam. Lena waits.

“You can’t trust a Reddy,” Noreen says. “No harm to the child, she might turn out grand, but the rest of them. You know as well as I do, you wouldn’t know what notion Johnny’d get into his head. If he took against Cal and decided to make trouble…”

Lena says, “He’d better not.”

“I know, yeah. But if he did. Cal’d be safer if he was married to you. Moved in with you, even. People’d be less likely to believe things.”

Lena has had her temper managed for so long that the blaze of rage catches her off guard. “If Johnny gets anything like that in his head,” she says, “he’d want to watch himself.”

“I’m not saying he would, now. Don’t go giving him hassle, or—”

“I’m not giving him hassle. When was the last time I gave anyone fucking hassle? But if he goes starting anything—”

Noreen sits back on her haunches, glaring. “For feck’s sake, Helena. Don’t be biting my head off. I’m only looking out for the pair of ye.”

“I’m not bloody getting married just in case Johnny Reddy is even more of a tosser than I thought.”

“All I’m saying is have a think about it. Can you just do that, instead of flying off the handle?”

“Right,” Lena says, after a second. She turns back to lining up Kit Kats. “I’ll be sure and do that.”

“Feck’s sake,” Noreen says, not quite under her breath, and smacks a jam jar into place.