Minogue looked up over Shankill. There were people on the crest of Katty Gallagher. The mountains had gone dark. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes to here. How long did they plan to be in the water?
He looked back at McKeon. Gone. His head reappeared, turned up to look at Minogue.
“Slow it down, we’re there.”
“There where?”
McKeon was beside him then.
“Thanks. Nice going there. Are you warmed-up now?”
Minogue eyed the two shivering women. Orla bellylaughed about something.
“What do we do now?”
“I drop anchor, they jump in, and I play Jeeves with the gargle. For them, like.”
“Gargle, for Iseult?”
“Oh God, no — under very strict orders there. It’s nonalcoholic stuff. Pretend champagne.”
He watched McKeon let an anchor over the side of the bow.
“Is Orla a good swimmer?”
“The best entirely.”
“Yourself too?”
“Middling to good.” McKeon looked up and winked.
He searched McKeon’s face. The eyes on him. He’d had a few jars before getting into the boat in the first place. The rope was slack. McKeon pulled it tight and tied it.
“Now We’re going nowhere.”
The boat gently wheeling, the rub of the rope as the anchor drew hard took Minogue’s attention. Iseult shrieked with laughter. There were figures on the shore by Killiney, a dog running along the beach.
“Well, girls,” McKeon called out. “Like they say, ‘This is your life.’”
Iseult’s smile faded. She looked out at the pale, oily water. Minogue took another mouthful of beer. Kathleen had persuaded Iseult that there was bacteria and rubbish by the beach that could give her an infection. Neither Kathleen nor Matt had expected Iseult to come up with fifty thousand quid’s worth of boat as a solution, however. No pollution away from the beach, was Iseult’s contention.
“This should be good,” said McKeon.
Orla had turned serious too. She cupped water in her hand and rubbed her face. The boat rocked gently
“Lezzers,” said McKeon behind his hand. “What do you think?”
He looked over when Minogue didn’t answer.
“Only joking. ”
Iseult looked up at her father. She nodded toward the cabin.
“Go ahead there, Matt,” said McKeon.
He perched on the edge of a seat. Iseult loomed large in the doorway.
“Da. I want you to do something. I couldn’t ask you back in Dun Laoghaire.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Won’t do what?”
“Whatever it is. All I want is a bit of a jaunt and go home. You’re cracked. ”
“Come on. Don’t let me down.”
Minogue stared out at the horizon falling and rising in the window.
“Tell Orla’s father to come in here. Cover up the windows for five or ten minutes. That’s all.”
“Why?”
“I want to go in the water in me birthday suit.”
Minogue covered his face with his left hand.
“Da! Da — please! Look up there. You can see the trees by Tully. And the mountains…”
“You crackpot,” he muttered. “I knew each and every one of those places long before you were even born.”
“Yes, I know. So?”
“Who’s going to be out there keeping an eye on you and dragging you out of the water then?”
“You will. I don’t mind you.”
“Orla? Is she in on this — Wiccan thing too?”
“It’s not Wiccan — ”
“Her father has ye as lesbians. ”
“Ah, he’s a fucking waster. Orla could hit him with a bloody two-by-four as soon as look at him. She hates him. Come on. Orla says she doesn’t mind you.”
“What if I mind?”
“But you’ve seen lots of… well, whatever. She says it’s okay. That’s the main thing.”
Minogue sat back and rubbed at his eyes. The beer had already started clawing at his bladder.
“See?” she went on. “All the stories you told me, that’s part of it.”
“What are you talking about.”
“Tully, a sanctuary, for people sort of on the run?”
“Well there’s a bit more to it than that, now.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I was just trying to make those hikes a bit interesting for you and Daithi.”
“The druids looking out from under the trees at us?”
“A definite whopper. Never saw even the one. Sorry.”
“But this gets to be true, Da — you know what I mean, now Come on.”
“What does this have to do with us out here in the middle of the Irish Sea? Your mother is worried that you’re gone mental, you know. A family thing — ah, I shouldn’t be telling you.”
“Did he give you a drink yet?”
“Yes.”
“Ask him for another one.”
“I don’t want one. Off him anyway. He’s a nice enough fella, but.”
“Ah, he’s a prick. He has money off in the Bahamas or somewhere, Orla says. Pays for his bit’s apartment in Rathgar. Everybody knows. Orla’s ma shops all the time and goes to spas in Germany. I’ll bet you he brings his bit out in the boat here. Go on, get another drink. Let him blather away. He likes to talk. He thinks you’re cool, you know. Dying to ask you questions — the job, you know?”
“You know I don’t want the job at home Iseult, come on now.”
“Just make sure the curtain things are pulled.”
“Look — ”
“Bring him down here and talk the face off him, Da — please! It’s for Celine — ”
“Celine who?”
“The baby. If it’s a girl like. Even if it’s a boy, sure…”
“You never told me this.”
“Bring him down, Da. Please!”
She was out the door before Minogue could marshal his arguments. He forgot the low door. He stepped out with his jaw set, the pain over his forehead half-blinding him.
“Tom. Are you there?”
“I am.”
He had opened another can of beer. Minogue kept rubbing at his head. The two women watched him. Lock him in the toilet — the head — maybe; mutiny.
“Tom, can you come down for a word, please?”
McKeon’s smile told the inspector he knew something was up.
“Tom. Could you maybe show me the cabin and how things work in there?”
“Ah, go way. The jacks is up the front It’s called the head. Go on with you and look around yourself.”
Minogue fixed him with a stare. Orla sniggered and turned away.
“The names of the different things, Tom? Maps and that..? I’ve never…”
“Is this about the two mermaids wanting to do their ceremony in the nip?”
