Cormac had his hands in his pockets. ‘Happy Christmas, Bridge. Sorry not to catch you yesterday.’

She straightened, looking between them. ‘Did you stay over?’

‘No, no. Just – popped in for a bit.’

Brigid came and kissed Matty on the cheek. ‘Hello.’

‘Hey.’

The siblings spoke about their mother briefly, and Matty could feel Brigid’s resentment that Cormac hadn’t gone down there himself as she detailed the long night she’d had, the discussions with the aunt about respite care.

Cormac took a noisy breath. Coughed. ‘I’d best get on.’

‘I’ve only just come in,’ Brigid said.

He picked up his car keys. ‘Work. See you.’ It was hard to tell which of them his farewell was aimed at.

***

The storms had returned in Brigid. Quieter, this time. More dangerous.

All afternoon she’d been tired, needy. Kept putting her hand out to touch Matty. Shoulder, thigh, cheek. It was hard not to shake her off. She’d sensed the diffidence anyway, had started to snap her replies.

‘What were you and Cormac talking about?’ she said, as they stood by the sink later, she washing the soup bowls, Matty drying.

‘When?’

‘When I came in.’

‘Nothing. Nothing much.’ Far too emphatic, and Brigid seemed to feel it, sending over another glance, the burn of it lingering after she’d turned back to the sink.

‘You both seemed pretty serious.’

Intense dish-drying.

‘Matty.’

A petulant look over.

‘Did something happen? Did he say something? About the case?’

‘No. He didn’t.’

She let it lie for the rest of the evening, but it was obvious she was still thinking about it. In the morning, she asked again.

‘Nothing. I can’t remember.’

‘You forget. I grew up with my brother. He’s useless at hiding things.’ She dug the knife into the loaf of bread with some violence. ‘Something happened. Between you.’

‘Like what?’

She sighed, tightly. There was a long pause. ‘Did you sleep together?’

Matty went to lie. Closed lips again.

The crackles in Brigid seemed to feather away. Her shoulders sagged. ‘You slept with him.’

‘Not really.’

‘Not really? What does that mean?’

A shrug.

‘I thought you liked me.’ That’s how it had all started, with those words. How it could finish. ‘My brother, Matty.’

‘He asked. I – he’s looking for me. Without knowing it. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.’

‘Attention to yourself?’ Brigid put the knife down and pushed her hair away from her face.

The long weeks in this warm house, the comfort of her, all dissolved. ‘It’s time for me to go.’ Spoken frankly, as kindly as possible.

She sounded tearful, sour. ‘Go where?’

‘Away.’ Away from you. ‘I’m not going to stay here forever. I’m not your – I don’t know what you expect me to be.’

‘I didn’t expect you to be anything. I can’t believe you.’ She looked up. Bitter green eyes. ‘You used me.’