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Authors: Anna McPartlin
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beautiful woman.”
“Thank you, Breda. It’s lovely to see you again.”
“And Tom tells me you’ve been so good helping him find my Alexandra.”
“I’m only setting up an exhibition to highlight her case and the Missing of Ireland.” Jane was embarrassed and wished she was in a position to do more.
“You were always such a lovely girl. Alexandra will beso pleased to have you in her life again.” She was crying but her tears were silent.
From the corner of her eye Jane noticed Eamonn enter the room but Breda still had a firm grip of her hand and deserved her full attention.
“Still so blonde,” said Breda, and flipped Jane’s shoulder-length hair.
“It has some help, these days,” Jane said.
“Do you remember Alexandra’s hair?”
Jane nodded.
“She had the richest chestnut hair, so glossy,” said her mother. “It was just above her shoulders when we saw her last but the police say it could have changed now. I hope it hasn’t. She had the most beautiful hair.”
“Mam,” Eamonn said, “Jane doesn’t want to hear that.”
Jane turned to Eamonn and nodded hello. “It’s fine,” she said. “I understand.”
Breda let go of Jane’s hand. “You should get a drink.” She looked at Tom, who was still standing at the door. “Tom, you should get Jane a drink.”
Tom took Jane into the kitchen where Kate, her husband Owen, Eamonn’s wife Frankie and Alexandra’s father Ben were standing around the counter. Frankie welcomed Tom with a hug and Ben nodded to him. Kate offered him a drink but Tom said he’d make it himself.
Ben shook Jane’s hand and thanked her for coming. “It’s great to see you. How’s that boy of yours?”
“He’s fine. He’s seventeen now.”
“My God, time passes quickly. It seems like only yesterday yourself and herself were giving us a run for our money.”
Jane grinned. Although he was older than his wife hestill managed to look ten years younger. He sported a full head of grey hair and he rubbed at the grey stubble on his chin. He was heavier than he had been years before. She remembered him as fit and sporty but those days were long gone. His shirt buttons strained over his paunch, and when he’d approached her he’d walked with a limp.
Some neighbours arrived and sat in the sitting room with Breda. The house seemed full and empty at the same time. Tom handed Jane a glass of red wine. Tony Bennett was playing on the stereo. No one talked about the fact that Alexandra was gone. They referred to her often and included her in stories about the past, which was where, it seemed, her parents now resided. Tom talked with his in-laws’ neighbours, Frankie, and Owen, but it was difficult not to notice coldness between him and Alexandra’s brother and father. He spent some time with Breda, who hugged him warmly and whispered something into his ear.
Half an hour before midnight he found Jane in the hallway, studying a picture on the wall. “That was taken on a day out in Bray in 1983,” she said. “It was such a hot day. The beach was mobbed and we’d run into the arcade and onto the bumpers just to cool down. Alexandra ate so much candy floss she puked pink all the way home.”
Tom looked at the picture and recognized Jane. Her hair was so blonde it was almost white and plaited to her waist. She was hugging Alexandra whose wavy chestnut hair shone in the sun. Both girls were facing the camera and grinning so hard they had dimples. “It’s a funny old world,” he said, but nobody was laughing.
Midnight came and went, the New Year was celebratedand when the clock struck one Tom and Jane made their excuses and left.
In the car Jane asked Tom about his relationship with Alexandra’s family.
“Ben and Eamonn need someone to blame,” he said.
“Why you?”
“Why not me? She’s my wife.”
“And what about Breda?”
“Breda blames herself.”
“And you?”
“It depends on the day.”
When they got to Jane’s house he stopped the car
“Thank you, Breda. It’s lovely to see you again.”
“And Tom tells me you’ve been so good helping him find my Alexandra.”
“I’m only setting up an exhibition to highlight her case and the Missing of Ireland.” Jane was embarrassed and wished she was in a position to do more.
“You were always such a lovely girl. Alexandra will beso pleased to have you in her life again.” She was crying but her tears were silent.
From the corner of her eye Jane noticed Eamonn enter the room but Breda still had a firm grip of her hand and deserved her full attention.
“Still so blonde,” said Breda, and flipped Jane’s shoulder-length hair.
“It has some help, these days,” Jane said.
“Do you remember Alexandra’s hair?”
Jane nodded.
“She had the richest chestnut hair, so glossy,” said her mother. “It was just above her shoulders when we saw her last but the police say it could have changed now. I hope it hasn’t. She had the most beautiful hair.”
“Mam,” Eamonn said, “Jane doesn’t want to hear that.”
Jane turned to Eamonn and nodded hello. “It’s fine,” she said. “I understand.”
Breda let go of Jane’s hand. “You should get a drink.” She looked at Tom, who was still standing at the door. “Tom, you should get Jane a drink.”
Tom took Jane into the kitchen where Kate, her husband Owen, Eamonn’s wife Frankie and Alexandra’s father Ben were standing around the counter. Frankie welcomed Tom with a hug and Ben nodded to him. Kate offered him a drink but Tom said he’d make it himself.
Ben shook Jane’s hand and thanked her for coming. “It’s great to see you. How’s that boy of yours?”
“He’s fine. He’s seventeen now.”
“My God, time passes quickly. It seems like only yesterday yourself and herself were giving us a run for our money.”
Jane grinned. Although he was older than his wife hestill managed to look ten years younger. He sported a full head of grey hair and he rubbed at the grey stubble on his chin. He was heavier than he had been years before. She remembered him as fit and sporty but those days were long gone. His shirt buttons strained over his paunch, and when he’d approached her he’d walked with a limp.
Some neighbours arrived and sat in the sitting room with Breda. The house seemed full and empty at the same time. Tom handed Jane a glass of red wine. Tony Bennett was playing on the stereo. No one talked about the fact that Alexandra was gone. They referred to her often and included her in stories about the past, which was where, it seemed, her parents now resided. Tom talked with his in-laws’ neighbours, Frankie, and Owen, but it was difficult not to notice coldness between him and Alexandra’s brother and father. He spent some time with Breda, who hugged him warmly and whispered something into his ear.
Half an hour before midnight he found Jane in the hallway, studying a picture on the wall. “That was taken on a day out in Bray in 1983,” she said. “It was such a hot day. The beach was mobbed and we’d run into the arcade and onto the bumpers just to cool down. Alexandra ate so much candy floss she puked pink all the way home.”
Tom looked at the picture and recognized Jane. Her hair was so blonde it was almost white and plaited to her waist. She was hugging Alexandra whose wavy chestnut hair shone in the sun. Both girls were facing the camera and grinning so hard they had dimples. “It’s a funny old world,” he said, but nobody was laughing.
Midnight came and went, the New Year was celebratedand when the clock struck one Tom and Jane made their excuses and left.
In the car Jane asked Tom about his relationship with Alexandra’s family.
“Ben and Eamonn need someone to blame,” he said.
“Why you?”
“Why not me? She’s my wife.”
“And what about Breda?”
“Breda blames herself.”
“And you?”
“It depends on the day.”
When they got to Jane’s house he stopped the car
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