The Godforsaken Daughter Read Online Free PDF

didn’t say. I saw the ad in the Vindicator and thought I’d give it a ring.” Mr. McCloone pulled on his earlobe and stared at the flowers again. “I wondered why them flowers were there. Naw, it wouldn’t be right to cut a field where yer daddy died. Not right atall.” He looked back at the road. “I’ll get ground off somebody else. There’s plenty rentin’ these days. Just needed a bitta . . . a bitta hay for the cows and the like.” He touched his cap and climbed back into the tractor seat.
    Ruby watched him go. As he turned onto the main road he looked back and raised a hand. Part of her wanted to hurry after him and tell him it was okay; he could cut the grass if he wanted.
    She stood, watching his tractor until it disappeared from sight, wondering how her attitude toward the field could change so quickly. Then wandered back the way she’d come, turning over the name “James Kevin Barry Michael McCloone,” as she bolted the gate and retethered it tight.
    What an odd long name!
    As she walked slowly back to the house, something told her it wouldn’t be the last she’d be seeing of the strange man in the shabby clothes. The strange man in the shabby clothes with the very long name who’d accorded her such respect.
    But first there was the attic—and that thing that needed throwing out.
    What was it? Oh yes: Grandma Edna’s old case.
    Well, Ruby knew one thing for sure: she wouldn’t be burning it. If the case meant so much to her father, she’d be having a look inside and hiding it in a safe place.
    If Grandma Edna had secrets, Ruby was determined she’d unlock them. And her mother would never know a thing.
    Whatever she learned would remain with her, and with her alone.

Chapter four
    I n the grounds of Killoran’s community center sat Rosewood Clinic. A five-roomed, ashlar-faced building on an acre of closely shaved lawns dotted with rose bushes, it formed part of the town’s health-care facilities. One accessed it through a revolving door into a waiting room and reception area, where the soft tones of the rose garden were carried through in the pale moss carpet, cream walls, pine furniture, and cushioned seating.
    Not for the first time, Henry marveled at the fine timing that had brought him here. He’d spotted the ad early in the middle of May, and put it to one side, having given it no more than a halfhearted appraisal. It wasn’t exactly tailor-made for him. He was a city boy, had never considered a career far from Belfast. Moreover, the position was for a period of three months; the ideal candidate would be prepared to function as a locum, a stand-in, really—for the man who ran the clinic. He’d understood that Dr. Sylvester Balby, the psychiatrist in question, was working on an important paper, and his research was taking him to Massachusetts.
    Henry had diligently logged the number of days since his wife’s disappearance. He had not given up hope. Not even with the approach of a second May. But finally, as May 25 loomed, his will broke. He told himself it was hopeless. His lovely Connie was never coming back.
    On Monday morning, he slipped quietly into his office and retrieved the advert from his desk drawer. He arranged an interview over the telephone, was hired immediately, and began work in Killoran at the beginning of June.
    Senior psychiatrist Dr. Sylvester Balby and newly appointed Dr. Henry Shevlin were to share the building for the time being, prior to Balby’s departure for the United States. Each had separate offices and consulting rooms either side of the corridor. They also shared a secretary, Miss Edith King, who was stationed at a reception desk in the foyer and supervised patients in the waiting room.
    Miss King, a brisk lady in her midfifties, was, to Henry ’ s trained eye, the epitome of the dedicated, no-nonsense secretary.
    Just a week into his new job, in rare idle moments, he ’ d find himself glancing at her through the venetian blinds of his office and