Rose of Glenkerry by Robert T. McMaster

Author:Robert T. McMaster [McMaster, Robert T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unquomonk Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Rosie spent some time the following day painting. She had done so little in recent months, and she needed to paint, perhaps to straighten out her head, to settle her rattled nerves. She arranged a still life on her kitchen table, with fruits from the family’s little orchard–pears, plums, cherries, a few crab apples. The light was interesting, she thought, and cast shadows that would lend depth to the painting and expand the colour palette as well.

As she worked, her mind drifted, as it sometimes did while painting. This was often a good thing, she believed, because it meant her eye and her hand were working in such close synchrony that there was not a lot of thought required–pure aesthetics, she reasoned.

Then she began to think about her mother and the question that had dogged her for weeks now, where had she disappeared to? Was she safe, healthy, happy in her new situation, wherever she was? She hoped her mother was staying with a friend, perhaps an old classmate such as the ones her Aunt Marguerite had listed for her. But none of those had any information on her mother.

Then her thoughts went back to Roscommon and the times when she was a little girl and she and her mother visited with her aunts. There was a lovely pond in the town with ducks to feed and ice cream vendors to interest little ones like her. And suddenly it struck her. On more than one occasion, her mother had taken her along on errands in the centre of Roscommon. And one of those errands involved a bank. She remembered it clearly–it had polished granite floors and walls and a vaulted ceiling high above from which hung several huge crystal chandeliers. She recalled how quiet it was in the bank, how everyone spoke in low whispers, how her footsteps echoed in that vast space. She didn’t know the name of the bank, but she remembered its location, not far from the duck pond. And she recalled very well its looming edifice with four shiny granite pillars. Within minutes Rosie was looking at that very bank online–it was still in business.

Early the next day, a Monday, Rosie telephoned the garda office and asked for Sabrina. Within an hour Sabrina had been able to arrange for a garda in Roscommon to visit the bank and have a word with the manager. Several hours later, she received a return call.

‘Good news, Rosie,’ reported Sabrina on the telephone. ‘Your mother had a large account at that Roscommon bank. About two weeks ago, she appeared in person and closed the account.’

Rosie’s heart leapt. So her mother was alive. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Sabrina continued. ‘The balance was nearly 20000 euro, Rosie. So perhaps that represents the inheritance your mother received long ago. The teller recognised her from that photograph you gave us. And the signature on the withdrawal slip looks genuine.’

‘So that means you can find out her address, right?’

‘Well, because of the amount of the withdrawal, your mom had to take a cheque for the balance.

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