She pushed open the door of Isaac's restaurant. John Meagher was waiting in the back, self-consciously holding a large bouquet of lilies. He stood up when he saw her, and pulled out a chair.
'I'm afraid I won't be able to stay for lunch. I've just heard from the Regional that Paul died about fifteen minutes ago.'
'I'm sorry, Katie. I really am.'
She took a deep breath to steady herself. 'Well?I suppose it's for the best. He wouldn't have wanted to spend the rest of his life like a cabbage.'
'Why don't I give you a lift to the hospital?'
'Would you? I'd like that. I can't say I really feel like driving.'
The waitress came up with their menus. 'Do you want to know what the specials are?'
Katie stood up and managed a lopsided smile. 'Not today. Some other time.'
They walked back along MacCurtain Street to John's Land Rover. The sun was shining but it was raining again, so that the wet pavements were almost blinding.
'Oh,' said John. 'I have something to show you. I was going to wait until after lunch, but-'
He opened the Land Rover's tailgate. In the back there were coils of rope and shovels and blankets. There was also a circular wicker basket, in which, fast asleep with its tongue lolling out, lay a glossy young Irish setter.
'He's yours. His name's Barney.'
Katie stood in the rain and the sunshine, her fingers tightly pressed against her lips because she was trying not to cry. Behind her, over the tall gray spire of the Evangelical Church, a rainbow appeared, and brightened, and faded, and brightened again.
