Free The Changeling by Helen Falconer Page A

fortune. As they walked from the school to the car, she asked Aoife, ‘So, do you need to go to Doctor Lynn?’
    ‘No, I’m grand.’
    Maeve shot her a look. ‘Grand apart from the splitting headache that’s making it impossible for you to concentrate in school?’
    ‘Yeah, apart from that.’ Aoife touched the envelope in her pocket. ‘Did Declan Sweeney pay you yet, by the way?’
    ‘Tomorrow.’
    ‘Oh. Are you sure?’
    Maeve stopped walking for a moment, her hand on Aoife’s arm. Her expression had changed to one of concern. ‘Is this headache brought on by worrying about money? I know I’m always moaning about how poor we are, but we’re not going to starve.’
    ‘OK. Good.’
    After they’d driven through Kilduff, Aoife said, ‘Did you or Dad lose any money at all recently?’
    ‘None to lose, sweetie. Why?’
    ‘Declan didn’t pay you anything in advance?’
    Maeve sighed as she turned left into their lane. ‘I’m starting to feel like I’m missing something here, sweetheart. What’s really bothering you?’
    ‘Nothing. I found some money.’
    ‘Well, that’s a good complaint. How much?’
    Aoife opened her mouth to say twelve hundred. But then didn’t. If it really wasn’t her parents’ money, she needed to think about the whole thing a bit longer. At the same time, it seemed mean not to share her new-found wealth. So instead, she said cautiously, ‘A hundred euros?’
    ‘ A hundred? ’ Maeve, who was in the middle of changing gears, stalled the car. Instead of restarting it, she sat staring at Aoife in astonishment. ‘Where did you find it?’
    ‘In my trousers.’
    ‘An old pair?’
    ‘Mm . . .’ Her school uniform was pretty old, although she suspected her mother was asking if she’d found the money in a pair of trousers that she hadn’t worn for ages.
    Maeve, shaking her head in amazement, started the engine again. ‘Well, lucky you. It must have been left over from your confirmation or something like that. I wish I could find a forgotten hundred-euro note lying around.’
    Aoife took one of the several hundred-euro notes out of the envelope in her pocket, and laid it on the dashboard. ‘You have it.’
    Maeve smiled, pleased by this act of solicitude – very tempted, then resolute. ‘No, God no – you found it. Buy yourself that fancy pair of trainers you’ve been wanting.’
    ‘Really. Take it.’
    Maeve weakened again, picking it up. ‘Aoife, that’s so sweet of you. Maybe just . . . I could borrow it until Declan pays me tomorrow? He’s giving me three hundred.’
    ‘Sure, whenever.’ She turned to gaze out of the window. So it could never have been the farmer’s money anyway.
    Pulling up in front of their house, Maeve said, ‘If I’d known you were going to lend me a hundred euros, I’d have bought some lamb chops for dinner! But I really have to work.’
    Aoife offered quickly, ‘I’ll go to the shop for you if you like.’
    Maeve gave her another look. ‘Headache better already?’
    ‘The fresh air will do me good.’
    Her mother laughed, maybe softened up by the hundred euros, pulling out her ancient yellow leather purse. ‘Oh, go on then. You sure you don’t mind walking that far?’
    ‘It’s not that far. I need to clear my head. What will I get?’
    ‘You choose – your money. Lamb chops?’
    ‘And cheesecake?’
    ‘Perfect.’ Maeve opened the purse. Frowned. Hunted through the different compartments. ‘What the . . .? I must have put it . . .’ She dug around in the pockets of her old green cardigan. ‘God, this is so annoying. I know I put it somewhere safe, I know I did.’
    ‘Oh, Mam—’
    ‘Don’t say anything! Just help me find it!’
    Aoife picked up the purse from the dashboard. ‘Will I . . .?’
    ‘Feel free.’ Maeve was rifling with increasing anxiety through the driver’s door pocket, pulling out old letters, tissues, sweet wrappers.
    Aoife checked through the untidy purse. In the zipped section were