pigeons disturbed off a roof. He fought off the resentment.
'Well now, if I'd known you were a fan, I'd have brought you here a long time ago, wouldn't I?' he said.
'I'm getting pointers for the Dublin team so we can leather ye when we get the chance,' Kathleen replied with a laugh.
The traffic had been stopped for nearly five minutes. Minogue switched off the engine in the middle of Tulla. People walked around between the stranded cars on their way to the pitch. Then the cars ahead began to move. Stop again, wait.
'Look,' Kathleen said 'It's Mick. Maura-and Eoin.'
Minogue looked out and saw his brother about to walk beyond the car.
'Mick. Maura!' Kathleen called out.
Mick turned, recognition dawning on him. He looked beyond Kathleen to Minogue. Maura came over too. Eoin, their oldest, looked on.
'Off to the match, so we are,' Kathleen said.
'God bless ye,' from hearty, pious Maura. Minogue imagined Maura tying bits of cloth onto the twigs over the holy well, polishing statues of the Blessed Virgin around the house. He watched his brother's face.
'Aye, aye,' Mick said.
The wives began talking. Mick strolled around the driver's side. Minogue listened to Maura and Kathleen laughing. Eoin stood away. Like his Da, Minogue thought.
'How'ya Matt?' and his arm resting on the door of the car.
'Struggling,' Minogue said, protected in ritual.
'Great goings on above in Dublin I hear,' Mick said.
Minogue nodded and looked ahead. Maura and Kathleen were touching each other, laughing. Eoin stood like a sentry, frowning off into the distance, his arms folded.
'Hard to know these days, isn't it? Who's who, I mean?' Mick said.
Minogue nodded.
'I saw your name in the paper, Matt, in connection with it.'
'Marginal, Mick. Very marginal.'
'We all do what we can, I suppose. Or do what we must?'
Minogue saw cars moving ahead.
'A bit of both, I'm thinking,' Minogue said.
Mick nodded his head slowly and studied the chrome rim on the gutter.
Minogue started up the engine.
'That's the way of it, isn't it now? There's always another day, so there is,' Mick said.
'God bless ye! ' Maura waved.
That day, Clare beat the socks off Kilkenny thereby overcoming a superstition about losing vital games on their home ground of Tulla.
To Minogue the land, the hills, the hedges, the clouds were as parts of a stage. Kathleen had done more cheering than he had. Minogue began reciting 'The Ballad of Tommy Daly':
On the windswept hill of Tulla
Where the Claremen lay their dead,
Three solemn yews stand sentinel
Above a hurler's head…
The crowds began to disperse. The pubs were opening, cars starting up. Only once during the game did he feel himself falling away, but he recovered quickly. His chest felt like a damp house for a while afterward.
He bought Kathleen and himself a steak in Portlaoise and he was picky about the wine. Kathleen was excited.
During the meal she told him she wanted to find a job and would he mind, bearing in mind that Iseult and Daithi would be gone soon. And speaking of which, Daithi was too embarrassed to broach the subject, but could we see our way to paying his fare to the States in the summer. If he gets the visa that is. He could visit his cousins up in Canada. It'd do him good so it would. And why not, because everyone else was going there these days and he'd learn to look after himself and couldn't be worrying about every little thing that might happen to him. Good experience for him.
Kathleen drew him out. He said let's go to France and why the hell not. She laughed and blamed it on the wine when she couldn't stop laughing. Oh didn't I marry the right one, she laughed, romantic nights in gay Paree, go on you're joking me. He said he wasn't. She laughed against her breath. Spluttering, laughing again. He said look at the Dublin crowd making a show of themselves down the country with drink. You can do what you like in Paris, she croaked in reply, even see the Follies but don't tell anyone.
In the valley after the wine, they were crossing the Curragh in darkness. Like the plains or the Prairies, Minogue thought. His throat was dry. He did not resist when the memory changed tense for him again that day. He knew this might be the last time it erupted over him before he could finally house it and think about it without the anger or the desperate urge to be forgiven, to try again. He wondered if he could bear to look at Allen again as he would probably have to during Loftus' trial.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Herlighy showed no surprise at Minogue's request. He followed Minogue out of the office.
'I'll be back within the hour, Mrs Sullivan,' Herlighy said as he passed the receptionist. There was no one in the waiting-room.
'You're sure I'm not inconveniencing you, now,' Minogue said as he grasped the hall door handle.
'Not a bit of it,' Herlighy replied lightly. 'I've been cooped up inside all day. Pardon the expression. Glad of a bit of fresh air, such as it is here.'
Minogue pulled the heavy door open. The brass plaque on the door caught his eye as the wan afternoon light moved across it. Dr Sean Herlighy in black, the brass clear and polished. No mention of Herlighy's stock-in-trade, psychiatry, Minogue mused again.
Minogue paused before descending the half-dozen steps to the footpath. He looked out on Merrion Square ahead. Two days of wind and rain had left the trees bare of leaves.
'Hold on a minute,' he heard Herlighy from behind. 'I forgot my cigarettes.'
Minogue leaned against the railing and looked down the terrace. Merrion Square was still a showpiece of Georgian architecture. Railings everywhere, granite edges to the steps, the wide doors with fanlights above. The rain had left the tree-trunks blackened. Cars hissed by on the roadway. The grass inside the Square would be completely sodden, Minogue calculated vacantly. Stick to the paths.
Herlighy had a lighted cigarette in his hand when he opened the door. The two men crossed the street and headed for the pedestrian gate. Minogue felt his nervousness as something unnecessary, a leftover from the anticipation which still clung to his thoughts even now beside Herlighy. They entered the Square. They had the place to themselves.
'I half thought of slipping into the National Gallery beyond and having a cup of coffee or the like,' said Minogue.
'That'd be grand too,' Herlighy said neutrally.
'Ah but I'd spend the day there looking at the pictures, I don't doubt.'
Herlighy smiled tightly and blew out a thin stream of smoke. They walked slowly on the gravel path. Herlighy seemed to be studying the path ahead of him. Minogue knew it was up to him to start.
'So I was thinking I'd like to postpone things awhile,' he began. 'Wait and see^hat way the cat jumps, do you see.'
'The sessions we have?' said Herlighy.
'Yes. What I mean is that… I think I'd like to try out things for myself now,' Minogue added quietly.
'I understand,' Herlighy said after a pause. 'If you say you are ready, that's fine by me.'
'You're not going to be idle now that I'm taking a break from the sessions, I hope,' said Minogue.
