“And how do you like it up here?”

“Oh, it’s grand.”

“Once,” said Norbert, “you get to know your way around.”

They spoke no more. Throughout the entire journey Jack sat there gripping his thighs. He gave a false address. When they arrived he handed the taxi-driver the tenner.

“Eight I said, and eight it’ll be,” said Norbert. He gave back two pounds change. He watched Jack with a merry smile. Jack thanked him and then he turned casually up a side street. He ran towards a laneway and waited to see if anyone was following him. He went on up another street and waited. By side streets he got home some hours later. A light was on in the house. He ran in and shot all the locks home.

“Jesus Christ!” he said, and sat on the floor. Out of his side pocket the Irish Press poked up.

Catherine stood in the door of the bedroom watching him.

“I knew this would happen,” she said. “I knew this would happen.”

A few evenings later they were walking towards a cinema in the city centre when a man stopped and laughed at Jack, and Jack laughed back, and the man said: “It won’t be long now, fella.”

They went on walking.

“What was that all about?” asked Catherine.

“That was him. That was Bertie.”

“Who?”

“That was the man who threatened me.”

“And you laughed at him?”

“What did you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I don’t fucking know either.”

27. Crossing the Musical Bridge

27

Crossing the Musical Bridge

A few nights later the window of the living room came hurtling in. They heard the noise, and lay petrified in bed.

Jack got up.

“Don’t go out there!”

“I can’t hear anyone.”

They remained perfectly still.

“There’s no one there,” he said again.

“Yes, there is,” she whispered shrilly.

He opened the bedroom door and felt his way along in the darkness. A cold wind was blowing down the corridor. In the living room itself all their papers were hurtling to and fro. As he stepped across the carpet he felt broken glass underfoot. He threw a coat on the floor. He reached the window. He looked out on to the street. There was no one out there.

He moved back and switched on the light. Everything was swirling round in the wind, but there was no sign of a stone.

He shouted in to Catherine: “The wind blew it in.”

He took a piece of carpet and nailed it over the place where the pane had given. Catherine stepped into the room.

“My nerves won’t take any more,” she said. “We’ll have to leave.”

“Now what will we do?” asked Catherine.

“Move to West Belfast?”

“No,” she said.

“I have no money left,” said Jack.

“So where?”

“Go to the Mullet, I suppose.”