False Mermaid

“Hang on, Saoirse—” Nora pressed the phone to her shoulder and spoke to her parents. “It’s a friend from Dublin. She says Elizabeth is there with her. I’ll find out what’s going on.” Lifting the phone to her ear again, she said: “Saoirse, tell me what happened.”

“Well, Jack and I were getting ready for a short holiday up at our summer place in Skerries. And as we were loading up the car, who should appear but this beautiful child, asking if you lived at this address. When I told her that you did, but you’d gone home to the States, she was very upset. She hasn’t said much more, only that she’s your niece, and needs to see you—it’s very important. And that’s all we’ve been able to get out of her. She wouldn’t even give her name.”

“How did she know where to find me?”

“I don’t know. She arrived in a taxi from the airport, had the address written on her arm. The thing is, Nora”—Saoirse seemed uneasy, and lowered her voice—“the thing is, the taxi man is still here as well. Says he’s got kids of his own, and he’s not about to leave a child with strangers unless he can be given assurances that she’s going to be all right. We explained to him that you’re a good friend, that we’re happy to look after the child, but—maybe you could talk to him. He’s quite adamant.”

“Let me speak to him,” Nora said.

A voice with a broad Dublin accent came on the phone. “Sean Meehan here. Who am I speakin’ to?”

“Nora Gavin. If the child with you is my niece, then her name is Elizabeth Hallett. You can ask her if you want to be sure.” She could hear him put the question: “I have your auntie here, child. She asks if you’ll tell us your name now?”

A young voice answered: “Elizabeth. Elizabeth Hallett.” Nora’s heart leapt.

“And your auntie’s name, the one you’re looking for?”

“Nora Gavin.”

Meehan was still skeptical. “How do I know you’re who you say you are? These people could have phoned anyone, told you what to say.”

The question was valid, Nora thought. How could she prove who she was, from thousands of miles away, without benefit of photographs, fingerprints, DNA? She frowned, trying to scare up some tidbit of information that only she and Elizabeth might know. A password to a shared past. Then it came to her. “Ask Elizabeth if she remembers the song her mother used to sing to her when she was little—”

There were muffled sounds of the question being asked, and Meehan’s voice came on again. “She says she’s not sure.”

“Could I just try something? Would you just hold up the phone so she can hear me?” Closing her eyes and placing the receiver close to her lips, Nora began to sing the mysterious words that echoed the language of the seals, hoping they would awaken something in Elizabeth, stir a memory that would reconnect them. When she finished, there was only silence at the other end. “Elizabeth, do you remember?”

Meehan spoke into the phone again, his voice husky with emotion. “Jaysus Christ, the poor little yoke. What happened to her mammy?”

“My sister was murdered, Mr. Meehan,” Nora said. She could hear him curse softly. “Elizabeth was very young; she never really understood what happened, never knew her father was a suspect. There’s never been enough evidence to charge him. That’s why it’s vital that you not take her to the Guards. Her father has probably gone to them already. And the way things stand, they’d be obliged to return her to him—do you understand why I can’t let that happen?”

Meehan was still uneasy. “Christ—I pulled over at one point, tried to get her to go back to the airport. She said there was no way she was going back. Made me wonder if there wasn’t something funny going on.”

“I can catch the next flight over and be there tomorrow—if you’ll leave her in care of the Donovans. Please. I can vouch for them, and they’ll take good care of her until I can get there—”

“One question. Does the child’s daddy have this address?”

Nora thought for a moment. “No—I mean, I’m not sure. Why?”

“Well, I was just thinking—if he does know where to look, you might want to consider keeping the little one somewhere else—far away from here, like.”

“The Donovans were on their way up to their summer place in Skerries. Elizabeth would be safe there for the moment. Her father would have no idea where to look.”

7

Harry Shaughnessy made his way down the stairs cut into the steep hill, wondering how he was going to get across Shepard Road. Cars streamed in both directions. He shouldn’t have come this way, but it was the quickest way to get down to the camp. Everyone had used these stairs in the old days. It was a long time since then, the streetcar days. Nobody seemed to walk now; everybody drove. And all the places people used to walk were neglected and overgrown with weeds.