Imelda overheard their conversation in passing and smiled. The mermaids were proving to be very popular and had attracted quite a following. Larkins was teeming with holidaymakers and many of them were spending their first day exploring all the delights it had to offer. The Wall of Death was one of the highlights and the tiered seats of the auditorium were packed with an excited audience. Vivienne was, predictably, in the front row, but Imelda stayed at the back with Grisha by her side. Cillian was prowling the floor like a prize fighter waiting for the bell. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, but no helmet. His motorcycle stood ready – blood red with a chief in a feathered headdress painted on its tank. He scanned the audience once more and then signalled for the show to begin. The ferocious roar of the bike, the smoke, and the fumes of engine oil were a potent cocktail. In that moment, as man and bike began to climb the wall in ever-accelerating circles, Imelda understood why he did it. When she had been younger, her mother often took her to visit Romany cousins who kept horses. The children would gallop across the fields bareback and Imelda always insisted on riding a wild-eyed white stallion called Crazy Horse. Her mother had always protested but never actually stopped her. He was the fastest and least biddable mount and to experience the thrill of riding him meant embracing the danger that came with it. For Imelda it had always been, and still was, an irresistible combination. Fear and excitement were two sides of the same coin and a man like Cillian Byrne was willing to risk death to feel truly alive. He was riding around the top of the wall and then swooping down, almost to the floor and back up at a dizzying speed. Eventually he slowed and while the bike was still moving, he switched to riding side-saddle. Accelerating once more, he climbed the wall and raised one arm in a triumphant salute. Imelda’s heart was pounding and her ears ringing. She needed to be outside, but had to see Cillian safely dismounted first. As he relished the applause she slipped away and headed off to her booth to prepare for that evening’s readings.

In the entertainment lounge, she was greeted enthusiastically by an older woman who was seated at the bar drinking a large gin. The woman looked vaguely familiar. She waved Imelda over to join her.

‘Let me buy you a drink to celebrate our first day.’ It was barely six o’clock, but the woman looked as though she’d already been celebrating for quite a while. Imelda was about to politely refuse her offer, but then thought better of it. She had plenty of time to get ready and the woman was only trying to be friendly.

‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’