The fight was over.

It was now just a question of how he would die.

FOURTEEN

Michael Devlin exhaled deeply as he climbed the steps to his front door, an involuntary sigh. It had been a longer day than he had anticipated. Much longer. Exhausted, he stepped inside and parked his wheeled bag against the hallway wall, slipped off his suit jacket and slung it across the bottom rail of the staircase. A far cry from the care he had shown it that morning.

He unfastened his cufflinks as he walked towards the kitchen, before rolling up his shirt and unbuttoning his waistcoat, freeing himself from the confines of his tailored working clothes. Michael loved his job, but he had never grown fond of the suits that came with it.

The kitchen was the most indulgent room in the house, as well as the largest. That was perhaps inevitable. Michael loved to cook, and both he and Sarah loved to eat. But even when doing neither, they still found themselves here rather than the lounge.

The ornate Clive Christian design had been installed by Sarah’s father shortly before he gifted them the property as an engagement present; an extravagant gesture from an extremely wealthy man. The installation had cost more than Michael had earned in his first two years as a barrister, yet neither he nor Sarah had ever questioned its value. It was one of those things that reminded Michael of how much his life had changed.

For all this, Michael was surprised to find the kitchen empty. A glance towards the open door in its far corner offered the explanation. The door led outside, to a small stone staircase that snaked down to a patio that was carefully designed to resemble a courtyard. Beyond that was a long, well-kept lawn surrounded by flower beds.

Michael walked towards the door, taking a detour on the way to pick out a bottle of Corona from the pantry’s refrigerator. He popped the lid as he walked. Took a long swig as he headed outside.

The sight that greeted Michael as he reached the top of the stairs was exactly as expected. Sarah and Anne Flaherty were seated around the long metal garden dining table with a wine glass each. Sarah’s glass was half full. Anne’s less so. An empty bottle of white wine sat in front of her, next to a cooler.

Both women noticed Michael at the same time.

‘Do I need to ask?’ he said, in reaction to two welcoming smiles, nodding towards the empty bottle as he spoke.

‘If you insist, Mikey,’ Anne replied. Her voice was full of affection. It always was when she spoke to Michael.

Michael returned the smile before doubling back into the kitchen for another bottle. He reappeared less than a minute later, walked down the steps and poured a fresh glass for Anne. He then topped up Sarah with barely a drop before putting the new bottle into the cooler and taking a seat between them.