Catherine sat rooted to the seat of the car.

“This city is evil,” she said. “It’s evil.”

“He’s been foolish. He doesn’t understand.”

She thanked him. She snapped the bolts home on the front door. She pushed the kitchen table against the back door. He was stretched out with an open bottle of wine on the settee listening to an unaccompanied version of “The Lament for James Connolly” sung in a broad Dublin accent. She lifted the needle off the record.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because it’s dangerous,” she said.

He looked at her. “But it’s your record.”

“I know that.”

When they lay down together she listened to every sound in the street. She lay awake listening for the sound of breaking glass like Jonathan Adams had long before her. She woke out of a nightmare and leaned over his body and looked at his face. For a long time she stared at him and listened to his breathing. She watched dreams flick across his closed eyes. She fell asleep holding his hand. When she left for work the next morning she asked him not to go out. To stay by the phone.

Later, Catherine rang him. There was no answer. She continued ringing throughout that day, getting more and more frantic. She imagined everything terrible that might befall Jack. She thought of walking into the flat to find a gush of blood still running down the door that led into the living room. She imagined leaning over to look into his face and finding the eyes peacefully closed. Each violent detail was replayed in terror in her imagination. Then in the late afternoon the phone rang. He was in Lavery’s pub.

“Oh, Jack, I can’t tell you the things that have been going through my head,” she said. “Stay there – I’ll be right over.”

“Look I’ve met some people I know, we’re heading off for a spin to the Glens.”

“But I need to see you badly.”

“We’ll only be away a while.”

“Who are these friends?”

“They’re from Dublin. Eddie my director is with them. I wanted to show him a version of the play.”

“Promise me you’ll be back tonight.”

“I will.”

She smelt him when he came in. Then she perched at the corner of the bed and looked at him as he sat with his back to the wall. He realized she was very drunk. Then she got up and stood by the window.

She came back and sat as before. She lit a cigarette. Her hands were shaking.

“You’ve been with someone.”

“I was with no one.”

“Don’t you look at me all high and mighty.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“I can see it in you. You think you can do what you like with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Did you bring some drink back?”

“No. I’ll go out and get some.”