I remembered her reaction as I unzipped the side pouch of my Bergen and handed her the bag containing Pete's belongings.
'Thank you so much for doing this, Nick. You don't know what it means to me.'
She'd begun lifting out his things one by one. She almost caressed each item.
Then she came to his almost-new wedding ring and her shoulders convulsed.
I turned up from the lane and my trainers slapped along the drive. The rain had stopped. The sun was up; the Merc glistened.
Might something happen now between Tallulah and me? Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. I was scared by the possibility, but if it happened I'd go with it. But for now, it was early days. I liked the idea, but at the same time, it frightened me.
I leant against a tree to do my stretches. The cottage looked even more beautiful in this light, and I asked myself if I'd done the right thing turning down Platinum Bollocks' offer of a set of permanent keys.
Dom had read English Literature at Krakow University, done his national service and sailed into a job on the news desk of a Polish national newspaper. The rest was platinum-plated history. By the time I met him in Basra, he was the star of TVZ-24, a Polish channel with offices in Dublin.
He was tall and annoyingly good-looking, even when a thick layer of desert dust had given him a horror-film face. His
Dom had had another agenda while he was in Basra, I discovered. He was running a private investigation into the heroin trail from Afghanistan. It was a trail that eventually led him to the Yes Man. Pete was murdered as a warning, but Dom was like a dog with a bone. He ended up being bundled onto a rendition flight to Kabul, where I'd tracked him down and rescued him.
So yes, he owed me big-time, but no one knew that more than Dom himself. When I asked if I could borrow their cottage over Christmas, he said that he should really be handing me the deeds. I laughed. Of all the countries in all the world, Ireland would never be the wisest place for me to settle – Good Friday Agreement or no Good Friday Agreement.
It was just after nine. I pictured Tallulah messing around with the coffee grinder and the bacon sizzling in the pan. If it wasn't, I'd get it on the go. I wasn't as useless in the kitchen as I let on. I knew my way around a frying pan as well as a microwave.
I leant forward in a stretch. The rain hadn't cleaned the car quite as well as I'd thought. There was a muddy smudge along the door sill. Finger marks. There was also a depression in the mud beneath it, like the hollow a woodland animal makes when it sleeps.
I turned and walked away. I went in through the front door, and immediately threw the bolts behind me. Then I ran to the back of the house and did the same, and ran round and made sure every window was secure and kept the curtains closed. And then I went upstairs.
How the fuck was I going to explain to the girls their holiday was over before it had even started?
20
I put my ear to Tallulah's door. I could hear them talking. Either they'd shared a bed or Ruby had crept in during the night or when she woke up.
I called out. 'Room service – any teas or coffees for you ladies?'
'Teas please!' There was a smile in Tallulah's voice. 'And if some toast and honey finds its way onto the saucer as you're passing that would be lovely!'
Ruby giggled. 'Can I help? I'm a waitress!'
'No, no, no – you ladies stay exactly where you are. It's holiday time. Breakfast in bed.'
I ran downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Fuck knows who or what was out there, but if they burst through the door right now all I had to defend us with was Mr Sabatier's finest.
I put the kettle on and threw some bread in the toaster.
I didn't know if there was a device under the car, but I had to assume there was. I hadn't seen a command wire so I didn't know if it was remote-controlled, but again, I couldn't take any chances. The smart money was on a pair of eyes up the hill, watching and waiting – either for all of us to come and get in the car, or, more likely, just me. Why would these two be the target?
The toast popped up and I took butter and milk from the fridge. The priority had to be keeping Tallulah and Ruby safe, preferably without them even knowing what was happening. They'd had enough trauma and distress to last them a lifetime.
I put the toast, butter and honey on a tray, and poured boiling water over a couple of teabags. There were shouts from upstairs. Ruby was enjoying the whole room-service thing.
'Waiter! Where is my breakfast?'
How would I get them out of here?
I was going to stay. I wanted to know what was under Mr Avis's pride and joy.
I piled the teapot, mugs and a little jug of milk on the tray, and then I picked up the phone and dialled a Dublin number.
'Dom. Nick. Listen, mate, can you come and collect the girls this evening? About five?'
Platinum Bollocks was concerned. 'You argued? They not liking it?'
