his watch. It was one a.m. Would she really be that angry not to leave a note or call him? He pressed his hand against his chest to soothe the pain that shot across it. He pulled back the curtain by the front door and looked out. It was like searching for keys on an empty table top.
He went into the living room with the portable phone and sat on the sofa. He switched on the lamp, picked up the remote control and sped through every channel. He stopped at the news, then moved on. He hit mute every time he heard a noise. Eventually, he gave up and sat in silence.
He dialled Anna’s number again and got the same cheery message. He started to get angry. He didn’t deserve this, whatever he’d done. He loved her, she knew that. He wasn’t some asshole husband who treated her badly. But she’d had an affair and now she’d walked out. He must be doing something wrong. He tried her again. ‘Come on, Anna.’
He grabbed the first book he found from the shelf under the coffee table and started skimming through pictures of luxury hotels…which made him think of Anna. He just wanted her to come home. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving him. Their marriage used to be perfect. Every time she had gone away on business or to visit with her parents, he felt lost. Even though she wasn’t the kind of wife who did everything for him, he always ended up eating TV dinners when she wasn’t there. He felt sick at the thought of her walking out on him. All because of his job. He leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Twenty minutes later, he jerked awake, his heart thudding. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was.
He looked around him. ‘Anna?’ He called out. He got up and walked into the kitchen. It was dark. He checked the fridge again for a message. He checked the empty table top.
He found himself back on the sofa and this time he knew he was panicked. It was two-thirty. She couldn’t be doing this to him. He tried her again and when she didn’t answer, he went to the hall and grabbed the keys to the Jeep. He drove up the hill and felt a strange shiver when he passed the spot where Katie was found. He slowed as he passed John Miller’s house, then sped up again. ‘Come on, Anna,’ he said. ‘You’re freaking me out here.’ He tapped nervously on the steering wheel. It was cold and dark and his wife was gone and she hadn’t told him where and his gut was saying something was wrong. But it was late and he didn’t know if he could trust his gut when he hadn’t slept and he was wracked with guilt. He tried to work out what he was afraid of: that something had happened to her or just that his shitty letter had happened to her. He didn’t want to be alone. He imagined himself sitting in McDonald’s with Shaun at weekends trying to be his buddy like all the other divorced fathers staring into those slack teenage faces.
Suddenly, he saw a shape in the centre of the road. He wrenched the steering wheel to the right and swerved into a shallow ditch. He looked back and saw a dead fox. It was clear that most other drivers hadn’t been as quick to avoid it. He reversed back onto the road and kept driving.
Within minutes he had grabbed his mobile again and redialled. ‘Dammit,’ he yelled, throwing it back on the seat. He drove for hours, just to give her enough time to be home when he got back. His gut spasmed again. He headed home and pulled into the lane, studying the house for any sign that it had changed since he left. He walked in the door and knew it was the same. But he went up the stairs anyway and checked all the rooms. His head started to pound. His jaw felt nailed shut. When he opened his mouth, it was like he was pulling each tooth. He went to the kitchen where he had left his pills and he took too many. He sat on the bed in the spare room, with the portable phone and his mobile beside him. He could feel his head get heavy. If he slept, she could be there in the morning, angry probably, but OK.
He woke to the phone ringing. His heart leapt.
Nora never liked Frank’s old armchair. It was brown velour and filled with limp kapok. The arms were bald and the covers were loose. It sat in the downstairs hallway waiting to be taken away for scrap. It was where she found Frank asleep at eight in the morning, his head back, his mouth open. A stack of files was fanned out on the floor in front of him. She knelt down and lay her hands gently on his.
‘Sweetheart,’ she said.
His eyes opened slowly and he struggled to focus on her.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?’
‘Eight,’ she said. ‘Is this some kind of protest? If I’d known you were going to have a sit-in, I never would have suggested giving the thing away.’
He smiled. ‘I just sat down for a minute to rest my eyes…’
‘What time were you up until?’
‘About five,’ he said.
‘You poor divil. Anything new?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really, no.’
‘Come on,’ she said, patting his hands and standing up. ‘Brekkie.’
Joe’s heart sank when the voice he heard was not his wife’s.
‘Have I caught you at a bad time?’ said Dr McClatchie.
‘No. I’m – no.’
‘Did you get in contact with that specialist?’
‘No.’
‘I hate to ask, but the fax you brought me the other day…well, I was wondering if I could get another look at it.’
‘No.’
‘It’s really quite important.’
Joe took a deep breath and spoke quickly to lessen the pain that had built overnight in his jaw. ‘I was way out of line with that, doctor. I was in an emotional situation that shouldn’t have compromised my judgment. And my theory was wrong—’
‘I can barely hear you. Could you speak up?’
He repeated what he said, his gums throbbing, pain pressing against his temples.
‘Well, there’s a project it may help me with. I’m giving a talk to—’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Joe. ‘I put it in the garbage once I knew it had nothing to do with Katie.’
‘Oh. Did someone tell you that?’
‘Not in so many words.’
He put down the phone and walked around the house again. He felt as if his veins were running hot and cold. He tried Anna’s phone, he took more pills. He lay on the sofa until a pleasant numbness washed over him. But it was happening too quickly; he was sinking too deep. He blinked to keep his eyes focused.
Myles O’Connor was leaning two elbows on the roof of his car. He had his mobile in one hand and the cord of a handsfree set hanging from his ear. He pulled the small microphone towards his mouth.
‘Look! Bottom line? I’m new. He’s old. I’m on the way in, Frank Deegan’s on the way out. Fresh blood versus retiree. Who do you
Frank stood frozen behind the wall with his sandwich bag in his hand.
Shaun woke up sweating and unable to move. He stayed that way for five minutes until he finally managed to turn his head. There was a pint of water on his bedside table. He reached out and knocked it onto the floor. He tried to say, ‘Shit’, but he couldn’t pull his tongue free. As soon as he sat up, he felt a rush to his head and he slumped back onto his pillow. His stomach flipped and he knew he wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom. He leaned over the side of the bed and vomited yellow bile into the basin Joe had left there. He vomited again and it shot through his nose, his eyes bulging with the force. He hacked from the acid coating the back of his throat, then heaved until there was nothing left to throw up. He grabbed a T-shirt from the floor and wiped his mouth. He sank back onto the bed, his head swimming. Fragments from the previous night flooded in. He knew Robert and Ali would laugh, but he was not looking forward to facing his parents. Suddenly images of Katie were everywhere. He couldn’t cope with the alcohol coursing through his system and addling his mind.
Joe knocked on the door and came down. Shaun opened his eyes slowly and thought his father looked drunk. His hair was unkempt and his eyes bloodshot.
Shaun groaned. ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’
