The Secret at No.4 by S.L. McManus

Author:S.L. McManus [McManus, S. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2023-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

It is late afternoon when the doorbell rings. The rain has finally stopped and the sun is beginning to creep its way through the clouds. It filters its way into the living room and settles like a film on Marianne’s pale skin as she sleeps. She is on the sofa, curled up in a blanket, looking more peaceful than I have seen her for a long time. I pray the doorbell doesn’t wake her and, thankfully, she is already far away. I open the front door slowly.

‘Mr Carr.’

Eoin is looking down at me, his hair falling into his eyes. He has a kind face.

‘Eoin. Thank you for coming over. It really is good of you.’

‘No, don’t worry. I just wanted to check in on you both, make sure you were doing all right.’

He smiles. I wave him in and head for the kitchen.

‘Drink?’ I ask.

‘Tea, no sugar. Thank you.’

He hovers in the hallway, looking at the array of paintings. I make the cup of tea, being careful with the spoon as I stir, afraid of making any noise at all. I usher Eoin into the living room, away from the draught of the hallway. Marianne looks childlike as she lies on the sofa, small and fragile. I hand Eoin a tea-stained mug and see him glance down at my hands; blood has dried along my arm from Marianne’s attack. He eyes me cautiously and I move instinctively away from view.

‘How are you feeling? I know the anniversary is coming up. You don’t have to talk about it but I just want you to know, we’re all thinking of you. The whole street is,’ he says quietly, looking straight at me.

I smile stiffly, nod my thanks.

‘I try not to think about it, truthfully. Hurts too much. I need to keep going for Marianne.’

He says nothing but just looks at me, something unreadable in his expression. Marianne stirs before falling still again and we retreat into the kitchen, not wanting to wake her.

‘Again, you can tell me to mind my own business …’ Eoin begins tentatively, ‘but have you considered getting an updated medical diagnosis for Marianne. The medications she would have access to now might really help her. And you, for that matter.’

I turn suddenly, my hands still resting on the sink. How does he know I haven’t? Laura must have been talking.

‘I don’t want anyone near her. She’s too sick for all that. She wouldn’t cope.’

There is grit in my voice, a mixture of stubborn love and fear that grind together.

‘What happened today?’ Eoin’s eyes return to the backs of my hands, covered as they are in red scratches.

I tug at my sleeves uncomfortably.

‘It was a misunderstanding.’

‘Patrick, did Marianne do that to you?’ Eoin asks.

The concern in his voice makes me stumble, and I don’t know how to respond. A stiff nod. It’s all I can manage. I can feel that my face has fallen, like all the scaffolding has been removed. The fight has drained the life out of me, the months of battling suddenly too much.

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