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Chapters (44)
  1. COVER
  2. HALF-TITLE PAGE
  3. BY THE SAME AUTHOR
  4. DEDICATION PAGE
  5. TITLE PAGE
  6. 2015
  7. THE IRISH FOR NO
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. DÚIL
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. CHIAROSCURO
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. IN CALVARY’S FLOW
  29. 19
  30. 20
  31. 21
  32. 22
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. WHEN I MOVE TO THE SKY
  36. 25
  37. 26
  38. 27
  39. 28
  40. 29
  41. 30
  42. 2015
  43. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  44. A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR

The quilt was wrinkled, the sheets stretched taut beneath it, as if he had slept on top of the covers. She took a book from his nightstand. It had pen and ink illustrations of the wild flowers and trees of Ireland, each entry accompanied by folklore. The one for gorse contained the lines with which he’d mesmerised her in the lay-by. She read for a long time and fell asleep. She woke with the corner of the book jabbing her cheek. There was a strip of grey dawn between the curtains. She reached for Michael and, realising he wasn’t there, sat up. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw that he was sitting in the armchair in his clothes, a glass in his hand.

Cara an dlíodóra, he said. Are you my friend, Cushla?

18

18

Gina had put on a milky-grey crêpe dress and matching coat. She looked vulnerable, ethereal, as she slid into the pew. Cushla had expected her to be angry about the legion of empties on the hall table, but Gina had beheld the arrangement with an expression of suffering. The bottles had colluded with her: look at the pain she’s in, they seemed to be saying.

The children arrived in their frocks and suits, Cushla directing them to the reserved rows at the front of the church. Davy trotted in, wearing a sky-blue jacket and trousers. Instead of coming to Cushla he hovered by the holy-water font. Seamie McGeown’s thin frame appeared in the doorway, Betty linking one of his arms, Tommy the other. Beside him, you could see how like his father he was. Betty had not, to Cushla’s knowledge, been in the church before. She felt a stab of guilt that the woman had come because she was afraid of losing her children.

You’re very dapper today, Davy, said Cushla when they were level with her. The blue of his suit made his eyes leap from his face as he looked from her to his mother, who was busying herself with the cuff of Seamie’s jacket. Mandy prodded Davy’s elbow and he rooted in his pocket, producing the missal and rosary beads Cushla had given him; gifts she had bought out of love, that now seemed like a threat. Cushla could feel Tommy’s stare but did not meet it.