We drove through the village, which now looked deserted, everyone having gone inside at the onset of the snow. Night was falling fast and snow now stuck to the windscreen, mounting up as it was pushed aside by the wipers. Darcy muttered a swearword under his breath. “I won’t be staying at Oona’s after I deposit you,” he said. “I’m not looking forward to going back to my father’s, but I think I’ll soon be trapped if I don’t get home quickly. And I don’t want to leave him alone on a night like this.”

“You’re a good son,” Zou Zou said. “He doesn’t deserve you, the way he behaves.”

We left the last lights of the village and were now in darkness with white flakes driving toward us in the headlights’ beams. As we were driving down the hill to the little stone bridge, Darcy saw headlights facing us and suddenly put on the brake. We felt the motorcar sliding on the soft snow. He pumped the brakes but we kept on sliding. Then he turned the wheel into the hedge, we heard the scraping of twigs against the side and luckily we came to a halt.

“What is some fool doing? Is he stuck on the bridge?” he asked. He sounded a little shaken. He got out of the Rolls and walked forward. There appeared to be more than one vehicle ahead of us, although they were just indistinct outlines through the snow.

“What’s going on?” Darcy shouted.

“There’s a car gone off the road into the stream,” someone called back. “We’ve sent for the police and the breakdown lorry from the garage.”

I got out in a hurry and slithered after Darcy, my heart beating very fast. It was an eerie scene with headlights sending narrow shafts of light and snow swirling. Below us we could hear the water rushing. Where it had tripped merrily over rocks before, it was now a raging torrent, and in the blackness we could make out the shape of a vehicle. What was more, I recognized that distinct shape. It was a taxi. And inside the cab I could make out a white hand up against the window.

Chapter 32

LATE EVENING, DECEMBER 5

AT MOUNTJOY.

Not much joy tonight.

We were a somber group as we drove up to Mountjoy. We had stayed until help arrived. Of course Barney was quite dead, having pitched forward and hit his head against the windscreen.

“He must have taken that sharp bend too fast and skidded over the side,” Darcy said in a shaken voice. “Poor man. You saw how easily something like that could happen.”