In the end, Quirke settled on a rice dish with shellfish and something called carabineros, which made him think of firearms, but which turned out to be nothing more than oversized prawns. He lifted the wine bottle preparatory to pouring, but Cruz and the young woman simultaneously put their hands over their glasses, both with faintly scandalised frowns. He filled his own glass to the brim, and signalled for a second bottle. He felt like getting drunk, if for no other reason than to match himself to the comedy of the occasion. The effort of keeping himself in check was making his head feel as full and weightless as a balloon. But he mustn’t get drunk, really, he mustn’t. It would be grievously unfair to leave Evelyn alone to steer them through whatever was left of what had turned into a ghastly if grimly entertaining evening. After all, he was the one who had proposed this fiasco in the first place.

Chapter 16

From the outset, Angela Lawless had made it plain that she had no wish to be here, in this restaurant, with these people, who were strangers to her and, if it were up to her, would remain so. She made no effort to hide how cross she was. But there was something else, too, something deeper than mere impatience at being compelled to take part in an occasion that was none of her making. Quirke got a sense from her of agitation and deep-lying anxiety. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Why was she anxious, why agitated? And why had she come in this absurd disguise, that would fool no one, and that, on the contrary, only served to draw attention to herself – a number of people at  tables round about had stared at her when she came in, and some of them even yet had their heads together and were plainly discussing her. She must really have thought she would be taken for some famous international film star travelling incognito – wasn’t there an annual film festival in San Sebastián?

Evelyn, determined as a cross-channel swimmer breasting a sluggish sea, tried repeatedly to keep the conversation going. She spoke of the beauty of the bay, of which she and Quirke had such a wonderful view from their hotel room. She exclaimed at the greenness of the countryside, here in the north. She mentioned the tortuosities of the Basque language. Each topic she offered hopefully around the table, but each one fell into silence.