A Terrible Beauty

ever. He should have had more respect. Especially since he did me over for half a million pounds' worth of building materials, him and that Charlie Flynn.'

'What?'

'Charlie Flynn promised Winthrop Developments that he could supply them with breezeblocks and facing bricks and uPVC window frames and God knows what else, for a very special price. The trouble was, he couldn't. So he came to your husband cap-in-hand asking for help and your husband sold him six hundred and fifty thousand euros' worth of building materials and pocketed twenty thousand euros of commission. Which would have been grand for all concerned?except that those building materials were actually worth more than a million, and they didn't belong to your husband, they belonged to me, and I was left neck-deep in shite trying to explain to Erin Estates why I couldn't meet my contract.

'Me and my friends called on Charlie to ask him what was going on, but he was long gone by then. Florida? look, here's some Polaroids.' He passed over four or five photographs of a fat-bellied gingery man in red flowery swimming trunks. 'Charlie by the pool in Kissimmee. Charlie on the beach at St. Petersburg. Looks cheerful, doesn't he? Put on weight, hasn't he? That's what happened to Charlie. He cheated me, and now he's afraid to come back.'

'And Paul?'

'That's why I wanted to see you today, Katie. That's why I wanted to see you here, on holy ground. Besides, they don't have security cameras. I felt very betrayed when your Paul went off with Geraldine. Well, how didyoufeel? We were both betrayed, weren't we? But, you know, a fuck's nothing more than a fuck, is it, and you can always wash yourself afterward. But now I find out that Paul's made off with my property, almost a million euros' worth, and you can't wash that away.'

'So what are you saying?' asked Katie. She felt angry and officious, but at the same time she felt highly alarmed, too. She had seen so many other garda detectives compromised by men like Dave MacSweeny, their careers ruined for the sake of a housing loan or a new BMW or a holiday in Gran Canaria, and she didn't want the same thing to happen to her. Her father would never forgive her, and more than anything else she had joined An Garda Siochana to win his approval.

Dave MacSweeny was silent for a moment. Then he said, 'I'm a very accommodating person, Katie. I don't want any trouble and I know that you don't want any trouble, either. All I'm asking is that Paul brings my building materials back to the yard at Blackpool, all of them, not one brick missing, and we'll forget this ever happened. I'll give him three days, which is fair considering the amount of materials he took.'

'And if he doesn't? Or can't?'

'You'd look lovely in black.'

Katie turned around, but Dave MacSweeny was already walking back up the aisle, his rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the tiles. Big, wide shouldered, in a long black raincoat, one silver hoop earring glinting in the dim cathedral light.

She stayed there for a while, and said a novena to St. Martha, promising to light a candle every Tuesday, just like her mother used to. Then she stood up, and crossed herself again, and left St. Finbarr's with her head bowed, like somebody leaving a funeral.

19

He came again that night, with his case of instruments. She was delirious now, and no longer knew where she was or what was happening to her. Both her legs were scraped of almost every scrap of flesh, and the bones shone like strange musical instruments carved out of ivory. Her face was a death mask, gleaming and gray, with two dark hollows for eyes.

'Mom,'she whispered.

He leaned over her and stroked her forehead. 'Don't worry, Fiona. This will soon be over.'

'Mom, my legs hurt. They hurt so bad, Mom.'

'Ssh, you mustn't complain. You ought to be grateful that you're sacrificing your body for such a momentous purpose.'

She suddenly opened her eyes and stared at him. 'Who are you?' she demanded, in a dry, hoarse voice, almost a squeak.

'Don't say you don't recognize me. I'm your friend. I'm your very best friend.'

'No, you're not. What are you doing in my bedroom?'

He touched one finger to his lips and smiled at her indulgently. 'Ssh. We don't want to wake up the rest of the house, do we?'

'I don't know who you are. What are you doing here?'

He sat down on the edge of the bed frame and opened his instrument case. 'I've come here to take you on the next stage of your journey.'

'My legs hurt. They really, really hurt.'

'Of course they do. But no matter how bad it is, you know, any pain can always be relieved by an even greater pain.'

'I have to get up. I have to meet my mother.'

'First things first.'

He took a length of nylon cord and tied it in a slipknot around the top of her left arm.

'What are you doing? What's that for? I have to meet my mother.'

'You will meet her, one day. I promise.'

He pulled the cord tight, grunting with the effort. She let out a high, breathy sound, but it couldn't be called a scream. He pulled the cord tighter still, until it almost disappeared into her arm, and it was then that her eyes rolled upward so that only the whites were staring at him, like a broken doll.