Impostor

“It’s been said,” he admitted, with a wink. “Nearly home now, sugarplum. Shall we tell Mammy all about how well you did in your swimming class, today?”

His daughter grinned and nodded.

“I swam like a fish, didn’t I?”

“Aye, you did. Here we are.”

It took a minute for him to unbuckle her child seat and to collect their bags, but then Liam and his daughter were skipping hand in hand up the short driveway leading to the front door of their bungalow on the outskirts of the town. It was perched on higher ground overlooking the lough and, though it had been a stretch to buy the place, he was reminded of why they had each time he looked out across the sparkling water.

Th e front door was open, and they entered the hallway with a clatter of footsteps.

“We’re back!” he called out.

But there was not a whisper of sound on the air, and he wondered if his wife was taking a nap. The first trimester was always tiring.

“Maybe Mammy’s having a lie-down,” he said, and tapped a finger to his lips. “Let’s be quiet like mice, alright?”

“Okay,” she replied, in a stage whisper.

“You go along and play in your bedroom and I’ll bring you a glass of milk in a minute,” he said, and smiled as she tiptoed down the corridor with exaggerated care.

When the little girl pushed open the door to her peaches-and-cream bedroom, she didn’t notice her mother at first, since she was lying so serenely amongst the stuffed toys on the bed. When she did, she giggled, thinking of the story of Goldilocks.

“You’re in my bed!” she whispered.

She crept towards her mother, expecting her eyes to open at any moment.

But they didn’t.

The little girl began to feel drowsy aft er her exertions at the swimming pool, and decided to curl up beside her. She clambered onto the bed and, when her hands brushed her mother’s cold skin, she tugged her rainbow blanket over them both.

“That’s better,” she mumbled, as her eyelids drooped.

When Liam found them lying there a short while later, the glass fell from his nerveless hand and shattered to the floor at his feet. Th ere was a ringing in his ears, the pounding of blood as his body fought to stay upright. He wanted to scream, to shout—to reject the truth of what lay clearly before him.

But there was his daughter to think of.

“C-come here, baby,” he managed, even as tears began to fall. “Let’s—let’s leave Mammy to sleep.”