‘What’s it to you?’

‘Barry – get back to school now or I’ll ring your father and tell him where you are.’

‘As if he’d listen to you.’

‘Barry, what did you do to your hair?’

He leaned in very close then, almost poking his head through the window, spittle collected in the corners of his mouth. He laid his hands on the window frame and she could see that each of his fingernails was rimmed with a little crescent of dirt. ‘Fuck off, you old slapper,’ he said, and walked away.

‘Barry, don’t think that you can talk to me like that and get away with it.’ She edged the car along the pavement. ‘Come back here now!’ But just as she said that, Charlie McGeehan stepped out of Doherty’s with a bag of shopping hanging from each arm and almost collided with the gang. Reeling, he swung in one direction then the other before raising his eyebrows at the departing group, and then at Colette. She put her foot to the accelerator and was on the far side of the town before she remembered where she was going. Checking the flowers again, she saw their little yellow heads peeping out above the fringe of brown paper.

She nosed the car over a narrow bridge and the road opened up before her onto a view of the bay, the lighthouse sitting squarely at its centre. Pulling up at Izzy’s house, she admired her view, which took in the entire length of the coastline to where it dropped off at the horizon. Across the bay she thought she could make out the chimney of the cottage, just visible beyond the brow of a hill. She took a moment to collect herself, determined to put this incident with Barry behind her. As a politician’s wife, Izzy would be used to people looking for favours, and it would require the full force of her charm to gloss over the strangeness of just showing up unannounced.

When Izzy opened the door, she took the flowers into her arms and admired them but Colette recognised the confusion in Izzy’s eyes, smiling and trying to pretend she wasn’t surprised by her arrival.

‘Come in, Colette,’ she said. ‘Go in there to the good sitting room and I’ll make the tea.’

Izzy went off down the hall and Colette walked into a long room that ran from the front to the back of the house. The room had a window at either end but it didn’t seem to get much light. There were two sofas and she seated herself on the one facing the door. The other was flanked by floor lamps with long tassels trimming the shades. An enormous glass-fronted cabinet took up a whole wall, one side filled with crystal vases and bowls and the other with colourful figurines – little boys in lederhosen and cherubic girls in headscarves. The side tables were covered with lace doilies where porcelain ballerinas jetéd and pliéd. On the table next to her a tall, slender girl in a pink skirt reached up as though to pluck a leaf from an invisible tree.

‘Ah, you’re admiring my Lladró,’ said Izzy.

Colette looked up and watched Izzy carrying a tea tray into the room. She knew the Spanish word was pronounced with a y but she thought better than to correct her. ‘I’m admiring this woman anyway,’ Colette said.

‘She’s my pride and joy.’ Izzy laid the tray on the coffee table. ‘God, it’s nearly dark already,’ she said, and went to turn on the main light. ‘There aren’t many hours in the day this time of year, Colette.’

‘Oh no, blink and you’d miss it,’ Colette said, and after so many hours alone in the cottage not speaking to anyone the shapes of the words felt strange in her mouth.

Izzy sat on the sofa opposite. ‘Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers. Such a treat. It does your heart good to have a bit of colour on a day like today. I don’t suppose you remember the flower shop I used to have up on the main street.’

‘Indeed I do. It was a great thing to have in the town.’

‘Oh, it was a lot of work too. And when kids come along, they change everything.’ Izzy lifted the teapot. ‘Do you like a strong or a weak cup?’

So much energy, Colette thought. ‘I’m not fussy.’

Izzy poured a pale stream into a cup and handed it to her on a saucer covered in colourful little petals.

‘You have so many lovely things, Izzy.’

‘Oh, I won a lot of them at golf. The Waterford Crystal, those are all golfing prizes. James won a few as well. Then the rest are gifts, but you know James can’t accept gifts over a certain amount and he’s fierce honest about that sort of thing. So people try to say thank you in different ways. We have more china than I know what to do with – we’re coming down with all the Belleek. And people know that I collect Hummels so they keep arriving.’ She stood and Colette watched her cross the room. Such a petite woman on top, it was like the two halves of her body moved independently, her wide hips swayed and her arse wagged as she walked to the cabinet. She flicked a switch so that the figurines lit up. ‘That’s Little Boy with Flute, and that’s Little Girl in Tree, and that’s my favourite, Little Boy with Sheep.’ She was pointing in an exaggerated way so that Colette could not help but smile, and despite the gaudiness of the figurines she was charmed by Izzy’s fondness for them. ‘I won’t even tell you how much they cost,’ Izzy said. ‘It’s a sin.’ She sat down on the sofa again and smoothed her hands over her knees. ‘Are you settling back in?’ she asked.

‘Oh, well enough. I’ve made a little home for myself up in the cottage. It’s starting to get cold but sure I’ll manage.’

‘Well, stay warm anyway, there’s nothing more miserable than the cold. Have you plenty of blankets and that sort of thing?’

‘Oh. I’m made of strong stuff.’

Izzy nodded and smiled. ‘And what about your job at the university?’

‘That was just a fellowship, a six-month thing. I had to apply for it and all of that, but the funding only lasts six months. It’s grand anyway, it means I can get on with my own work now.’

‘And how’s that going?’

‘Oh, as well as can be expected. Work is work. People think that when you’re a writer you love writing so much you skip to the desk every morning, but there can be days when it’s a struggle, when you’d rather do anything else.’

‘Oh God! It’s hard for you too? And you’re a professional. There are days I sit down at that table to try and do my homework and I feel completely blank.’

‘Well, it happens to the best of us.’

‘I don’t suppose much has changed around the town since you left. You always think when you go away you won’t recognise a place when you come back and then it’s the same as ever.’ Izzy was staring down into her cup. ‘But we have a new priest. Who I know you’ve met. Father Brian. He’s a breath of fresh air. A great addition to the town. Just what we needed really. The last fellow was too sweet to be wholesome.’ Izzy gave Colette a knowing look. ‘He used to be a Guard.’

‘Who?’

‘Father Brian. He was a Guard up in Dublin for years and then one day he got the Call and that was it.’

‘He must have some stories.’

‘Yeah – but he doesn’t talk that much about it.’

Colette watched Izzy’s gaze wander off around the room.

‘What part of Dublin are you from again?’ Izzy asked.

‘Terenure.’

‘Oh no,’ Izzy said, ‘he’s from somewhere over on the Northside – Drumcondra, I think.’

‘Well, he seems to be kind anyway, easy going.’

‘Ah yeah, he’s a bit of craic. Even James likes him. And that’s saying something.’

‘How is he?’

‘He’s fine. Finding it difficult to settle in to a new parish, I think, but he says the people in the town are welcoming and try to—’

‘No. I meant James – how is he?’

‘Oh, he’s grand. Same as ever – busy, busy, busy. On the road the whole time. But he never seems to switch off – he’s obsessed with it.’

‘With politics?’

‘With the town, the community, the area. You’d swear he was running the country, he puts that much into it. And there’s always something.’ Izzy tapped her fingernails against her cup. ‘You might be able to get a divorce soon,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘I heard there’s going to be another referendum next year. Depending on what way it goes – you could get divorced.’

‘Who said I want a divorce?’