Her voice was almost casual, almost unconcerned. Without waiting for him to answer, she turned back to the case and began to struggle with the catch. He wanted to tell her that he had done it because he loved her, but he didn’t know how to. He continued to cry. With a click the case was shut. She lifted it down on to the floor. A car outside blew its horn.
‘That’s my taxi.’
She picked up her coat from the bed and put it on.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Away.’
She tied a large red scarf around her head. The car hooted again.
‘I must go, Joe. Will you help me carry the cases down? Here.’
She pushed a large white handkerchief into his hand. He wiped his face and blew his nose. She unlocked the door.
‘I don’t want you to go. Was it all … all my fault?’
She smiled at him suddenly and put out her hand as she used to do and touched his face.
‘Poor Joe. I don’t suppose it was. One day we’ll see … one day we’ll forget it all. One day …’
She handed him a case and he thought of Brendan and the time, the first time, he had gone down the hill, leaning over with the weight of the case in his hand. They bumped down the stairs. The woman was still there, determined to see them off the premises.
She slammed the door viciously behind them when they were on the step.
Kathleen suddenly grinned at Joe as she put the cases on the ground. The driver got out of the car and put the luggage in the boot.
‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘You were right. I’m back on the poison again.’
‘I’m sorry, Kathleen. I’m sorry. If …’
She kissed him. Her face was hot to touch. She got quickly into the car.
‘If ifs and ans were pots and pans …’
She closed the door and lifted a thin white hand in farewell. He stood on the pavement and watched the car until it was out of sight, then he looked at the red book which he held in his right hand. It was called A Golden Treasury of Verse. He opened it and looked at what she had written in childish writing on the first page.
Kathleen Doherty is my name,
Ireland is my nation,
Wicklow is my dwelling place,
And heaven my destination.
He looked down the street but the taxi was truly gone. Carefully, he put the book into his pocket and started off home to get his father a cup of tea.
About the Author
About the Author