Page 2 of The Last Bench

Vega could hear the smile in his voice. Last year had been a life-changing one for her. She’d been on a quest to find two missing children, who were dubbed The Nowhere Girls in the media. When she found them, she found herself too.

‘If he’s out there, I’ll get him.’ Vega said firmly. She drained the last of her coffee and stood up. ‘I’d better go. Promise me you’ll take it easy. You’re pretty important to me.’

‘Don’t you worry, kiddo. I’m not going anywhere.’

Ten minutes later, Vega pulled her Kia into the driveway of a pristine white 1980s bungalow, nestled among a mature garden of trees and shrubs on Forth Mountain. Vega checked her phone was fully charged, ready to record her interview with Anne and John Davis. As she approached their front door, she felt a familiar and welcome sensation wash over her – a heightened awareness where all her senses sharpened, signalling she was on the verge of a story breakthrough.

It was time to find out what the Davises had to say.

Two

Anne

‘I’m still not convinced this interview is the right thing to do,’ John said, pacing the marble tiles in their kitchen.

‘Nor am I. But we’ve committed ourselves now,’ Anne replied as she placed a lemon drizzle cake in the centre of their kitchen island. She licked icing from her fingertips, nodding in satisfaction as the sweetness hit her tongue.

‘Remind me again why I agreed to this,’ John muttered in protest, all the while eyeing his wife’s signature bake appreciatively.

‘We’ve been through this several times. Vega Pearse is writing an exposé on the growing drug situation in Wexford, over the past thirty years. With or without our input. Elaine Grant said she asked a lot of questions about Hinges. We need to find out exactly what she’s writing about.’

‘But we agreed years ago never to be interviewed,’ John said, his voice low.

Anne approached his side and clasped his hands firmly in her own. ‘If trouble is coming to our door, I want to be ready for it.’

‘We’ve always said we wouldn’t meet trouble halfway, Anne. This feels very much like that.’

The sound of their doorbell ringing startled them. There was no time to dwell further.

‘Think before you speak,’ John said, grabbing Anne’s arm. She nodded, then wiped her hands on her trousers before walking to open the door.

The journalist’s eyes were wide and bright as she shook hands. She was a pretty girl, with a short haircut that would have looked masculine on most women, but somehow radiated femininity on Vega. She wore a battered black biker jacket over jeans, and seemed very cool.

‘Hi, I’m Vega Pearse. It’s nice to meet you both.’

‘Come on in. You’re welcome,’ Anne said, and they returned to the kitchen.

‘It smells gorgeous here!’ Vega said, sniffing the air appreciatively.

‘There’s always cake on the go for visitors,’ Anne replied. ‘But I thought we’d start with the tour first.’

‘I’m happy to follow your lead,’ Vega said, her voice warm. ‘I want this to be comfortable for you both. As I said on the phone, we’ll take this at your pace.’

John frowned and Vega caught it.

‘I can see you’re still unsure. I was a little surprised when you agreed to meet me, when I heard you’d turned down all interviews in the past.’

John locked eyes with Anne and nodded at her as if to say, ‘You wanted this, so this is yours to answer.’

‘We’re private individuals and have never felt the need to share our story publicly,’ Anne said.

‘You haven’t been on record about your impressive fundraising before,’ Vega stated.

Anne shrugged. ‘The donations and the money raised have been a great comfort to us, but we don’t want any recognition for it.’

John nodded vigorously at his wife, adding, ‘We didn’t start all of this to get pats on the back. Don’t be waxing lyrical about us two in whatever you write. Keep it to the facts on how to donate.’

‘Got it,’ Vega replied. ‘Can I ask why you said yes to me?’