“Stop,” he said. “Enough, this is just stupid.”
Cully was stomping with his heel now. Slowly and selectively. Fanning hesitated, pushing his fingers further into his ears.
“Stop it!” he yelled.
Cully lowered his arms and he stepped back.
“I’m getting out of here,” Fanning said. “You should too.”
“Why are you covering your bloody ears?”
“There’s no need for this, I gave him a going-over.”
“A going-over? You?”
“We should never have come down here.”
Cully’s face twisted up. He stepped over to Fanning quickly.
“He knifes you, and you’re apologizing?”
“There’s no need to do any more.”
“You’re shaky, aren’t you?”
“It’s the coke.”
“Shaking like a leaf, you are,” said Cully and looked down at the Pole.
“I’m going to phone for an ambulance,” Fanning said.
“An ambulance? You can walk, can’t you? As far as the car?”
“For him, he’s not-”
“He’s not supposed to bloody move,” Cully said. “What do you think this is?”
“He’s unconscious, he’s hurt.”
“I should bloody hope so! A bloke tries to do for you, some foreigner here, and you want to tuck the bastard into bed or something?”
Cully took a deep breath and tugged at his jacket. Fanning felt the chill now. And his face and eyes were getting the feeling he remembered from when being a child with that fainting thing. There was something pasty and sour at the back of his throat. The lights of the car swelled and receded. It seemed that Cully was speaking from a long way away.
“You’re going to pass out,” he heard Cully say from a long way away.
He did not want to look again at the strange wetness around the man’s head. It gave off a dull gleam that was different from the rain.
“I’ve got to go home,” he said.
Said it? Or thought it?
He was aware of moving, of awkward steps, and the sound of soles scuffing and scraping under him.
“Come back,” he heard Cully shout. “Don’t be stupid, get back here! I’ll drive you.”
No: he was jogging now, and it was effortless and smooth. He heard Cully shouting again, and the sound of tires and revving.
But how fast he could run, and how easily. He turned onto the quays. Traffic, sounds, and even a few people. He stopped and looked back for headlights coming around after him. Everything was still amplified, sharp, engrossing. A flurry of footsteps erupted nearby, and he pressed into a doorway. The racket was two girls half- running and half-staggering, their heels dragging and clattering on the roadway, their boyfriends pulling on their arms, coaxing them on.
The normality of it flooded him with relief.
He waited a few moments, and then made his way toward the lights and crowds of the city centre.
Chapter 41
For a moment, Fanning didn’t know if he was still in the dream. It was he himself who had shouted.
“God almighty!”
That was Brid’s voice.
“What was that? Was it you, Dermot?”
He couldn’t straighten up. He was stiff everywhere. He heard Brid’s slippers sliding on the floor.
“Jesus,” she whispered. “That was you yelling?”
“Sorry.”
His arm was asleep. The chair back had dug into his shoulder and lodged there.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I must have fallen asleep. I got home late — don’t. No, no light. Please.”
She stood in front of him, waiting. He began to rub at his face.
“You’re in a fierce state. Did you go overboard on the drink?”
The reproach and suspicion in her voice didn’t bother him now.
“I’m just exhausted. I got home, sat down for a think, and…”
“Well there’s a can of something there by the side of your chair.”
He raised his back slowly from the chair.
“Beer,” he said. “Right. I didn’t even get to it then.”
“And your phone,” she said, stooping. She picked it up with two fingers and held it out. “It’s soaked.”
“It’ll be okay in the morning.”
He knew she was holding back questions. The pins and needles were like fire down his arm.
“There’s a smell of something. Petrol. Do you smell it?”
“Right, yes. Well, I helped a fella push his car off the road there. Broken down.”
Her tone changed again.
“You got soaked, I bet.”
He shook his head. He was pretty certain now that the knot in his shoulders would morph into a headache.
“Dermot. Dermot?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m half asleep. That’s all.”
“But is everything okay? That’s what I mean.”
“Everything’s okay,” he said. “Yes.”
“Whyn’t you come to bed when you got home?”
“Ah, you know.”
“Do I? I thought I was getting the come-hither earlier on.”
“I know you need your sleep,” he tried. “I didn’t want to wake you. Was Aisling wandering around in the night?”
“No. Not yet. If she slept through that, she’ll stay asleep. Jesus, Dermot. I only heard you like that once, remember after the accident?”
“Sorry,” he said.
She took a step toward the chest of drawers and leaned against it. He could still feel her battle between annoyance and worry.
“Did anyone phone?” he asked.
“What, in the middle of the night, you mean?”
“After I left.”
“Who were you expecting?”
“No-one, actually.”
“Colm Breen, maybe?”
“Not funny, Brid. Not this hour of the night.”
“Or that Guard you were supposed to talk to?”
He started in the chair.
