Moira

              Moira was running as fast as she could, turning left and then right, before veering left again in a bid to out- run them. But she knew it was futile, that it was simply a matter of time before they caught up with her. She could hear their feet landing on the ground, just a split second behind her, their breath clammy on her neck as they gained ever closer. And she knew, she just knew, that any second now they would reach out with one of those awful, scaly hands and they would have caught her. She was not sure what they would do to her then, but she was sure she did not want to find out. Yet she knew there was no escape. It did not matter how fast she ran, she knew they were going to get her.

              She was panicking. Her heart was pounding and her legs hurt, her lungs felt as though they were going to explode as she gulped in the freezing air. The sky was dark and she struggled to see through the drizzly rain. Her feet were sinking further into the muddy ground with every step.

              She saw it then, just a glimmer in the distance. It was a house, her house. There was a light on; her mummy and daddy would be there, waiting for her. If she could just keep going she would make it and all would be well again. She tried to call out but the words would not come; all she could do was keep going. She tried to focus on the house, if she could just keep going she would be home and safe once more.

              Suddenly she was on the ground, she had slipped in the mud. Try as she might, she could not get up, he legs sliding from under her in the soft, wet ground. Her dress, her lovely white dress, was ruined as she kept sinking further and further into the mud. She cried then, knowing she was doomed and that any second now the monsters would have her. They would touch her, make her one of them.

              Moira woke up in the dark, her little body was hot despite the fact she had managed to kick her blankets into a bunch at the end of the bed. She knew she had had another bad dream and started to cry. She called out for her daddy, he always knew what to do, had always known how to make her feel better. 

He was tall and strong and gave the best cuddles. In he would come, switching on the light, and talking her down from her hysteria. And he would sit on the end of the bed and hold her until her sobs subsided. Then, he would find her favourite teddy and stand him on guard duty by the bed, assuring her she would be safe so long as the teddy remained on watch. He would perform a search of the room, looking under the bed and inside the wardrobe to make sure there were no monsters and then wait with her until she fell asleep once more.

But he did not come tonight. Three times Moira called out and still he did not come. Now she was frightened all over again, alone in the dark room with monsters lurking in every corner. She needed to find her daddy but was too scared to move. She remembered her teddy, she would be safe if she had him with her. Feeling around in the darkness Moira found him in the tangle of blankets at the bottom of the bed.

Holding him close to her, Moira slowly made her way out of the bed, keeping a careful eye out for the monsters. She walked backwards toward the door, not wanting them to sneak up on her, and felt for the handle. Out on the landing, she felt much safer. Somehow, the monsters would not come here. She supposed it was because they were scared of grownups – they would tell them off.

She made her away along to her parent’s room and opened the door, hoping they would let her get in with them. But the room was empty; it seemed her mummy and daddy had not yet gone to bed. Making her way to the top of the stairs Moira nervously chewed a fingernail. She was not supposed to go downstairs after bedtime but she was too scared to go back to her room. Treading softly, she made her way carefully down the staircase in search of her parents.

As she reached the bottom, she noticed the kitchen door was closed and light shone through the crack underneath. There were voices coming from the rooms, voices that Moira did not recognise. Her parents had company.

Moira was expected to be out of sight when visitors came to the house. She was expected to play nicely in her room and not disturb the grownups downstairs, so she sat quietly at the bottom of the stairs and waited. Maybe, if she listened very carefully she would hear what they were saying. She had always wondered what grownups talked about that was so private that she was not allowed to listen.

Sitting on the bottom step, clutching her teddy, Moira strained to hear what was being discussed in the kitchen. The fear she had felt after the nightmare had left her now and was replaced by the excitement of finally learning what it was grownups discussed without the distraction of their children.  But the voices had stopped and all of a sudden there was silence in the closed room. She worried the grownups had heard her on the stairs and for a moment considered running back to her room before she was caught.

Suddenly there was an unusual sound coming from the kitchen. Somebody was crying, really crying and their words were distorted by their ragged breathing. The other voices - two of them -were saying they were sorry. She had no idea what they had done, but it must have been bad if it made another grownup cry; she did not even know that adults did cry.

Listening very carefully, Moira leaned forward in an attempt to hear more of what was going on. The conversation continued at a slower pace as the person crying tried to regain control of their breathing. There were some question being asked, but Moira struggled to make out the words from behind the closed door.  All she could hear were the apologies of the other grownups in the room. That was when she realised that her daddy was not there; in fact, he did not seem to be in the house at all and the person crying was her mummy.

Before she knew what she was doing, Moira had burst into the room and was screaming at the two strangers before her. ‘Get away from my mummy, leave her alone!’ She was pushing at one of them now, trying to get them out of the kitchen and out of the house.

Dumbstruck, the police officers did not know what to do and looked to Mrs Hennessey for help. Mrs Hennessey gave an apologetic looked and dried her eyes. She tried to reassure Moira that she need not worry, the two people were here to help.

‘Come away now, Moira,’ she said, pulling the young girl into her arms. ‘These two gentlemen were just leaving.’

She thanked the officers for their time and asked them to leave her and her daughter alone now. Neither of the two men needed any further persuasion and they made their way to the door, promising to be in touch should any more information come to light.

 Genevieve Hennessey held her little girl tightly, fighting hard not to cry. She had no idea how she was going to explain all this to Moira. The girl loved her father, idolised him, and hung off his every word. He was like a god to her, the sun shone out of him as far as she was concerned. How the hell was she going to explain to this innocent child that he was never coming back, that Patrick Hennessey was dead?