The room was cold. The wind fierce.

He lifted her letter out of his pocket and read it.

He stood reading it, then drank from the bottle.

He filled a glass and drank and thought: She was never coming, I’ve been fooling myself. Then, while the alcohol sang in his head, he remembered her love pledge. He read the letter again, then walked the few miles to Corrloch across the fields, saw that her car wasn’t there but knocked on the door all the same; he entered the empty house and sat in the kitchen and saw it coming, whatever it was. I should ring. And yet he didn’t want to ring because he didn’t want to know. He walked the five and a half miles to Belmullet town. The dog appeared from nowhere by his side. “I’m sorry about this morning, Daisy,” he explained to the animal.

In the Erris Hotel he asked Mrs Moloney to put a call through to the theatre in Dublin while he ordered a gin and tonic at the bar. Immediately he had put the call through he regretted it. He went out and cancelled it. He ordered another drink. The TV was on. He read the value of the punt in sterling. He watched the flickering digits of the day’s stock market prices. The TV grew abnormally large. He must have been standing there for more than an hour staring at the screen before Hugh switched it off. Then Jack sat down. His limbs stirred of themselves. His feet felt stone cold.

He put the call through again. Mrs Moloney handed him the phone.

“I’m sorry, Mr Ferris, Miss Adams is in rehearsal right now,” came the voice.

“Could I speak to Eddie?”

“Mr Brady?” she said correcting him.

“Mr Brady, yes,” he agreed.

“I’ll see.”

Jack, as he waited, smiled at Mrs Moloney.

“Jack?” said Eddie.

“Is Catherine there?”

Pause. “Yes, she is.”

“Can I speak to her?”

“Look, Jack, I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but she has refused to come to the phone.”

“I was expecting her down here at the weekend.”

“I know nothing about that. It’s best to leave her alone, I’d think, at present. It’ll sort itself out.”

“She wrote to say she was coming, but she never came.”

“I would know nothing about that.”

“Tell her I’m still waiting.”

“I will.”

“Tell her I’m sober.” Then he added, “Tell her I’m sorry.”

“I will.”

“Eddie,” he said, hating the whinge in his voice. “Will you please ask her to speak to me?”

“Look, Jack, you are putting me in a terrible position. I don’t want to interfere.”

“Will you ask her?”

“I’ll try. Will you hold?”

Jack pulled his stomach muscles taut to smother a wave of nausea. A long time passed.

“She’s refused to come to the phone.”

“Did she say why?”

“I shouldn’t expect her to tell me.”

“Tell her I need to talk to her.”

“Look, Jack, we are in rehearsal.”