Aftershock

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‘How’s she doing?’ asked Neil McIlhenney.

‘Maggie?’ Mario McGuire’s heavy black eyebrows rose. ‘For a woman who’s just had her womb and ovaries removed because of cancer, and who’s in the middle of follow-up chemotherapy, she’s doing bloody well. But why are you asking me? Why haven’t you been to see her yourself?’

‘I haven’t been given the okay.’

‘Come again?’

‘Her sister said she would phone me when she was ready for visitors.’

‘Her sister?’ Mario snorted. ‘Look, Bet’s only just come back into her life after fifteen years or so. She doesn’t know who’s who. You’re not bloody “visitors”; you’re family, as near as damn it. Phone her first, just to make sure she’ll be in, then get your arse down to Gordon Terrace and pay her a visit.’

‘Will do. How’s the baby?’

A big smile creased McGuire’s swarthy features. ‘Stephanie Margaret is blooming. She’s up to six and a half pounds, and she’s absolutely drop-dead gorgeous.’

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