He drove slowly. It drove me crazy. He was a careful driver. He didn’t even like to park his Lexus in town in case it got scratched. When he had to park it in town he sometimes put it in the disabled drivers’ spaces because they’re wider. If he does that I always ask to get out before he parks and I walk away. I will not be seen getting out of a Lexus with a non-disabled driver in a disabled driver parking space. I hate him when he does that. He just shrugs and says, The cripples get all the best spaces. Jesus fuck my life. I swear. He’s like Mr Bean only SO not funny. His hand is shaking. I can see it. As soon as he lifts it off the wheel there’s a tiny little shake like a frightened bird. In fact both of his hands are like birds. They’ve gotten small. Or else they were always small only I never noticed. His left hand shakes more than his right. And he’s been biting his nails. He never bites his nails. It’s like you never notice things about your dad until he has a heart attack.

So today he says, Suzy, you see that land out your window there? That’s Castlemartin.

Me: I know, Dad.

Dad: And you probly know that a syndicate has put in a planning application for four hundred houses. Seemingly there’s a housing shortage. He laughs. That’s all me eye and Johnny Reilly of course. The auctioneers want it so the government gives it. A housing shortage is a matter of optics. And you probly know that Dan Kelleher is in that syndicate.

Me: Dad?

Dad: Well, they won’t be getting any planning permission.

Me: Dad, what did you do? What did you do, Dad?

Dad: Never mind. But I’ll tell you one thing for nothing: Kelleher is screwed.

Now I was scared. I don’t know what my dad does. But he did other things before.

There was a sign by the side of the road that said No Trespassers. He pulled the car in beside it. There was a hole in the fence.

Stay there, he said to me.