Chapters (40)
- Cover
- About the Author
- PENGUIN BOOKS
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- THE BEGINNING
They smiled across at each other. Irene lifted the glass of cold white wine and pressed it against her forehead. Waiting.
By two o’clock, Lorrie had retired exhausted, twenty-five euros up and with smudges under her eyes. At three-thirty, Neil, breaking even, joined her – they heard him pulling off his shoes, cleaning his teeth, murmuring something to Lorrie, then the cabin light went off.
‘The whisky’s finished,’ said Mickey, lighting another cigarette and dealing again. The smoke drifted in spirals past his flushed cheeks and glittering eyes. ‘How about some brandy?’
‘I think I’m about to drop,’ said Irene.
‘You’re winning. You can’t pull out now.’
‘I have to leave early tomorrow.’
‘All the more reason to stay up now. The last fling.’
‘No, really, Mickey.’
‘Party pooper. You go then. Luke and I will continue. OK, Luke? We’ll raise the stakes, make it matter. It has to hurt if you lose.’
‘I’m all in too,’ said Luke, looking across at Irene. He’d hardly touched his drink.
‘Oh fuck this. We’re on holiday here. You can sleep all day tomorrow.’
‘I don’t want to sleep all day tomorrow.’
‘No wonder Mary left you.’
‘Mickey –’
‘What’s fucking happened to everyone, that’s what I want to know? Live a little for once, hey?’
‘I’m knackered, that’s all.’
‘You don’t look it to me. Maybe you just want to be somewhere else. Or you want me to be somewhere else.’
‘I don’t know what you’re going on about.’
‘I’m not blind, you know.’
‘One last hand, if you insist, and then we should all turn in.’
‘I’m not blind and I’m not stupid and I’m not a child either – I’ll stay up until I want to go to bed.’
He poured himself a large glass of brandy and threw it expertly down his throat. The expression on his face didn’t alter, but Irene saw there was a vein throbbing in his temple. He sloshed more brandy into the glass and over the table, then started sloppily dealing cards. Several slipped from the pack and scattered onto the floor.
Irene bent to pick them up. Then she stood up. ‘Goodnight then. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Night,’ said Luke softly. ‘Time for me, too. What about you, Mickey?’
‘I’m staying right here. Bang in the middle. Not moving. Not going anywhere.’
‘You’re not going to bed?’
‘Nope.’
‘Do you want a blanket?’
‘I won’t be sleeping.’ He looked from one to the other and grinned. ‘I’ll just sit here with my eyes wide open and wait for morning to come. Not long now.’
‘OK,’ said Luke evenly.
