Free Someone You Know by Brian McGilloway

the injury that had brought him to A & E in the first place had been.
    â€˜Thanks for the coffee,’ Lucy said, sipping at it.
    They sat for a moment, drinking in silence.
    â€˜You don’t need to stay if you have somewhere to go,’ Robbie said.
    â€˜I know,’ Lucy said.
    Robbie nodded. ‘So, any plans for Christmas?’
    â€˜Not yet. You?’
    â€˜I’ll cover the day shift so that the workers with families can be at home with their own kids. Then in the evening I’ll probably head home to Omagh. My parents still like us all to come home for Christmas. We all muck in and make dinner. It’s always good fun. For an hour. Then you remember why you moved out.’
    Lucy laughed lightly. ‘I don’t remember family Christmas’,’ she said. ‘I’ve vague recollections of Santa and that, but the one I remember clearly was when I was eight, just after Mum left. Dad decided I was old enough to be told the truth after he read my Santa letter that year.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜I’d asked him to bring my mother back.’ Lucy glanced at Robbie, the expression of concern on his face, and smiled. ‘That was the last time I wanted that, mind you.’
    â€˜Santa’s a bastard that way,’ Robbie said. “I always wanted Mousetrap, and he never brought that to me. That and a James Bond attaché case.’
    Lucy laughed, then turned her attention to the polystyrene cup in her hands, tearing the rim and folding down the top of the cup.
    Robbie nudged her and handed her a folded piece of paper.
    â€˜What’s that?’ she asked. She took it, unfolded the page and found an address written on it.
    â€˜You’d asked me where Mary Quigg’s baby brother, Joe, ended up. Before we ... you know. Before.’
    Lucy nodded. ‘Thanks, Robbie,’ she said, refolding the page slowly and slipping it into her back pocket.
    â€˜A token of my regret,’ Robbie said. ‘Over all that happened.’
    â€˜And mine,’ Lucy added, though she suspected not referring to the same events as Robbie.
    â€˜Nothing broken,’ Gavin said, interrupting them. They looked up to where he stood. ‘No bones at least,’ he added, looking from one of them to the other.

Chapter Fourteen
    T he following morning, Lucy drove into work via the Culmore Road. The note Robbie had given her sat open on the passenger seat. The address listed was in Petrie Way, a fairly affluent area of the city. Joe Quigg had been the only survivor of the fire that had killed Mary and her mother. With no family left, he would be placed with foster parents in the hope that someone might adopt him. Lucy had asked Robbie, while they had still been together, for details of the family with whom the baby had been placed. He’d refused then; it said something about the guilt he felt that he should give it to her now, she reflected.
    The house in question was detached, two storeys, with a faux Tudor facade. A silver 4 X 4 was parked in the driveway, and, behind it, a smaller Ford. Lucy had intended to drive past, but when she reached the house, she found herself parking up on the kerb a little down the street from it, then twisting in her seat to better examine the place.
    Just then, the front door opened and a man stepped out, dressed in a suit, clutching a plastic shopping bag which looked to contain his lunch. He was perhaps mid-thirties, Lucy thought. His wife appeared at the doorway, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. In her arms, she held an infant. Lucy felt her throat constrict as Joe lifted a small fist and reached out to the man, looking to be held. Joe had only been a baby the last time Lucy had seen him. He’d grown in a year. The man moved quickly towards him and embraced him, then turned away and climbed into the 4 X 4 while Joe cried and the woman shushed him, bouncing him lightly in her embrace.
    As Lucy watched the woman and child retreat