drowning.’
‘It’s like – which would you rather die in, a barrel of pus or a barrel of scabs?’ said Katie.
‘What?’ said Shaun.
‘It was one of my granddad’s favourites,’ said Katie. ‘I’d probably go for the scabs.’
‘Which sounds like a good idea, until they’re scratching at the inside of your throat, then you’re inhaling them into your lungs…’
Katie shook her head. ‘Ew.’
Shaun pulled her into his arms, pressing her head against his chest, squeezing her close. She looked up at him and he knew how she felt.
‘I still can’t believe you asked me out,’ she said.
‘What? Why? You’re a babe. Why wouldn’t I ask you out?’
‘I am not a babe,’ she said, hitting him. ‘It’s just that you arrived looking like…like a big American footballer or something, with your perfect teeth and we all thought that none of us would have a hope. I just think it’s weird that here I am.’
‘You’re crazy. You’re really beautiful. You make me laugh, you’re smart, you’re cute—’
‘Aw, that’s so nice.’
‘It’s not nice, it’s true.’
He took her hand and they moved against the wind back down the steps. They walked along the harbour, then past the sweaty windows of Danaher’s and up a winding road behind a short row of shops. They stood at the sign for Seascapes Holiday Homes.
Straight ahead, was an empty tree-lined dead end. To the left, the road sloped steeply into a second, larger cul-de-sac, where fifteen fourbedroom holiday homes faced out towards the border of trees. Lights were on in three of the houses, each of them close to the entrance. Shaun’s boss, Betty Shanley, lived in the first one, but she was out of town for the night. Shaun and Katie took a right, running along the trees and down the slope, glancing around quickly before Shaun slipped the key into the door of the last house, number fifteen, and they both fell into the hallway, laughing.
‘I put the heating on earlier,’ said Shaun.
‘Yeah, I can smell it,’ said Katie, wrinkling her nose at the stale air from the storage heaters.
‘Would you rather freeze your ass off?’ asked Shaun.
‘No.’
‘Do you feel a bit guilty?’ he asked.
‘A little bit.’
‘Me too. It’s just…Mrs Shanley. She’s been good to me. And to mom, when mom was her nanny or au pair, whatever.’
‘I know. But I’m sure our parents did stuff when they were our age.’
‘Let’s not go there,’ said Shaun.
‘Yeah. Ew.’
‘Are you ready for your surprise?’
‘I get a surprise? Cool!’
‘Go to the fridge.’
Katie hunched down and pulled open the fridge. In it was a tiny chocolate cake in the shape of a heart, a half bottle of wine and a white rose. She smiled up at him.
‘That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me in my whole life,’ she said. ‘You are adorable!’
‘I know it’s not original, but what the hell.’
‘Shut up. I love everything. I love you.’
Joe sat down at the table with the mail that arrived that morning. He looked down at his plate – spinach ravioli with a side of broccoli. His glass was filled with freshly squeezed orange juice. He leaned back to see his dessert in a bowl by the stove. It was custard with something brown hitting the surface. Stewed prunes.
‘Why didn’t you just cut to the chase and slap two laxatives down on my plate?’
‘Pop a pill,’ said Anna. ‘Your answer to everything. It’s because of those killers you get all blocked up.’
He smiled at her mistake. ‘There is nothing wrong with my insides.’ He opened a letter from a cut-price phone company, glanced at it and tossed it aside. Anna kept talking.
‘Your breath stinks. I know what that means.’ She pointed to his abdomen.
He laughed out loud. ‘It’s too easy to be blunt in a foreign language. How would you like it if I said something nasty to you in French?’
She shrugged. ‘All you know is bonjour. And I’m not nasty. I have to look after you, because you are no good.’ He loved her quirky phrasing. ‘You’ve been on an aeroplane and you’ve been wound up by your father. I know your jaw hurts and you’ve been taking things.’
He started eating the ravioli and then laughed to himself.
‘You know, pretty much everything sounds sexy in that accent,’ he said.
‘You’re nuts,’ she said.
‘What about them?’
‘Now you sound like Danny.’
Joe was smiling as he picked up a letter from the bank. He tore it open and frowned.
‘Why has four hundred euros gone out of my account? To a furniture store in Dublin.’
‘Oh. I went a bit over budget on the bathroom.’
‘What?’
‘I overspent on the fittings.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I meant what the hell are you thinking? Again! I presume the magazine isn’t going to pay me for this, either.’
‘No, but you know this is important to me.’
‘Yeah, I do, but I’m not gonna go bankrupt for it. You know what I’m up to now? Two thousand euros on a house I don’t even own. “I ran out of money for the bedroom, the living room…”’
‘It’s worth it. I’ve never had a project like this, something I’ve done from start to finish. This will change my career.’
‘And what if it doesn’t?’
‘What do you mean what if it doesn’t? All along it’s been your job, your job…’
‘Yeah. The one that’s kept you and Shaun financially secure for the last eighteen years. What would have happened if I had given up a few years ago to try something new?’
‘I would have supported you.’
‘With what, for Christ’s sake? You do not live in the real world. Regular people have budgets. The magazine has a budget. I have a goddamn budget. But that’s no good, right? That’s too normal for you, right?’
‘That’s not true.’
‘What you’re doing is selfish.’
‘In the end, it will work out. I’ll be making a lot of money. I’ll buy you some nice things.’ She tried a smile. Joe ignored it.
‘I have everything I want right here, Anna. I’m not always looking for something better.’ He finished his meal in silence.
John Miller leaned heavily on the bar, his hand clamped on a pint of Guinness, a glass of straight whisky beside it. Ed Danaher was nodding patiently at him. Usually, he was cranky and brusque. Yet people opened up to him because if they were lucky, he could bark out a useful truth. He rubbed the ends of his black moustache, then pushed up the sleeves of his white shirt.
‘Is that so, John?’ he was saying. ‘That’s a dreadful thing altogether. What did you do?’
‘I got drunk,’ smiled John. ‘And I haven’t looked back since.’
Ed laughed with him.
‘Seriously,’ said John. ‘I stayed with a friend. But he was a bigger loser than me. The two of us just drank ourselves into oblivion, morning, noon and night. That was when my brother, you know, Emmett, came to get me.
