Cormac was shaken. Her anger from last night had not only increased but had been joined by some new friends: hatred and disgust. He planted his feet and held the railings.

‘Why did you come?’

No reply.

‘If you feel like this, why did you come? You told me you weren’t coming. You could have stayed away and you would never have to see me again. But you didn’t. You came and that means something, surely?’

No response.

‘Couldn’t it mean you felt something when you saw me last night? I know I did.’

He felt a sharp sting on his arm where she had found the same spot as Poppet. The Liffey had lost its allure. Her black tracks had lost their moisture.

‘Felt something! Jesus, Cormac! You really are something else. You conceited, self–centred, arrogant fucker! You think you can walk into the middle of my life and I will crumble into some girly wreck and profess my undying love for you? You arrogant prick - don’t you think I fucked you out of my life ten boyfriends ago? You were gone by the time I finished my first year at university. What was he called again? Oh yeah, Paul, that was him, a psychology student. I thought I loved him as well, but then I realised his fumblings were not much better than your pathetic efforts. At least he was more reliable than you!’

21

They stood for a moment as the tension filled the silence. Cormac was unable to conjure up anything to say that might diffuse her anger. Everything he said last night and this morning only served to enrage her. He decided his best course of action was to say nothing at all. He would say nothing in the hope she might soften in the silence. He took in his surroundings. There was the vast and wild beauty of the Liffey, flowing gently beneath O’ Connell Bridge. The Arlington Hotel stood proudly to his left, promising tourists traditional Irish dancing with their evening meal. An open-topped tourist bus sat outside it. He could just make out the driver serenading his captive audience.

‘In Dublin’s fair city

Where the girls are so pretty

I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone….’

He selected an elderly couple, waiting to board the next bus. American, he guessed, mainly due to the matching beige chinos. He watched them for a few minutes. They, too, stood in complete silence. But it was different. It was an easy silence, borne from a lifetime of love and laughter, trust and respect. They didn’t need to talk. They were happy just to be. Each one secure in the knowledge that the other was there, had always been there, and would always be there. He watched them board the bus; disappear for a moment, before resurfacing on the top deck. He held her hand and guided her to the back seat. Cormac felt guilty as he watched the old lady kiss her husband’s cheek. The bus moved off and he felt a sharp pang of envy. They were on their way into their day in Dublin. Just for a moment, he wished he could steal their day away. He kept them in view until they disappeared around the corner into O’Connell Street. He smiled as he heard their driver’s first line.