‘Twenty years ago, there were fifteen boats in that fleet, and now there are nearly fifty,’ Shaun said. ‘And twenty years from now there won’t be a fish left in the water.’

‘Never a truer word was spoken, Shaun. They’re leaving nothing for the next generation. That’s why I’m always saying it – tourism’s the future of this town.’

And then Shaun looked over his shoulder at him like he was surprised by his presence in the room. He returned to the seat and sat himself squarely in front of James, pinching the knees of his trousers so that the material rode up another inch, exposing his bony white shins.

‘Well, what was it you wanted to discuss?’ James asked.

‘Christmas, James. Yes, Christmas. Christmas was hard, James.’ He made a noise of assent then, like he was agreeing with himself. ‘I don’t mind telling you that Christmas was a difficult time. Carl was very upset all over Christmas because he didn’t see his mother, who as I’m sure you’re aware no longer lives at home. The fact that she no longer lives there is a decision she made herself. She decided to live in Dublin and to leave her home and her sons and to begin a new life.’

Shaun began to rummage in his wax jacket. He withdrew his fist, opened his hand, glared at the scrunched-up white tissue lying in his palm, and then returned it directly to his pocket.

‘Shaun, I’m very sorry to hear all of this but—’

‘But I would say that I am as entitled to a fresh start as Colette is. Wouldn’t you?’

‘Shaun—’

‘And I would say that my sons are entitled to a calm and stable existence – doesn’t that seem fair?’

James folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

‘But Colette has certainly not contributed to that, and neither has your wife,’ Shaun said.

‘What?’

‘It seems they’ve struck up quite the friendship since Colette’s return to the town, which is odd really, considering they never had much to do with each other before.’

‘Izzy goes to Colette’s writing classes, what of it?’

‘I would never really have pictured them as friends. I wouldn’t have thought they’d have shared any of the same tastes or interests. And Colette didn’t have many friends, which was a thing I never paid too much attention to at the time. I thought it was just because she was a blow-in, you know, and that perhaps people thought she was odd because of what she does.’

James could feel something inside him tightening, like a clenched fist at the centre of his chest. He looked down at the silver letter opener shaped like a mackerel that lay on a square of marble between him and Shaun.

‘But your wife’s a blow-in too,’ Shaun said. ‘I know she’s not from far away, but really it’s the same thing. In a small town an outsider’s an outsider. But I always said to Colette that Izzy was one of the nicest women who ever came into this town. It’s a shame she’s been dragged into all of this, but it doesn’t surprise me that Colette would use her as some kind of . . . go-between—’

‘Get to the point, Shaun.’

‘The point is that your wife has been facilitating meetings between Colette and Carl. There was a shopping trip – to Enniskillen of all places. I thought that was an unusual choice.’

‘She took the boys to the North to do a bit of Christmas shopping – so what?’

‘And she arranged to meet Colette there and they had a right old time buying presents and gadding about together.’

‘Where are you getting all of this from?’

‘Oh, they were seen.’

‘By who?’

‘That’s of no importance.’

‘If you’re coming in here launching accusations at my wife then you should have the balls to say who told you.’

‘Not accusations, James – facts.’

‘A mother was seen doing a bit of Christmas shopping with her son, those are the facts – and I’m supposed to go home and reprimand my wife over this, for what?’

‘I would say what you do with this information is your own business. I’m not going to tell you how to conduct your marriage. But what I will say is that often it’s difficult to see something that’s happening right under your own nose.’

‘Right, Shaun, you’ve said your bit, now I’m fully aware that my wife went shopping with Colette.’ James put his glasses back on his face and reached for the newspaper. ‘Thanks for filling me in. You can show yourself out.’

‘That wasn’t what I was referring to.’

James dipped his eye and looked over the rim of his glasses. ‘Then what are you saying?’

‘That the parish priest’s car is parked at your house more often than his own. It appears Izzy’s made another new friend in the past few months.’

‘I’d be very fucking careful about where you’re going with this,’ James said.

Shaun jammed his little finger into his ear. He grimaced and shook and then removed his finger, examining the tip.

‘Just because you failed to pay attention to what was going on with your own wife,’ James said, ‘doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do with mine.’

‘I’m just telling you what people are saying.’

‘Do you think I pay a blind bit of notice to what people are saying about me?’

‘I think you care a great deal about what people think of you, James. And maybe if you cared a little less, you might have had some real success. I think you play a careful game, and that you have more respect for your constituents than for your colleagues. That’s why you’ve managed to hold your seat for so long but . . . well, with all the changes that are going on in the government at the moment, it wasn’t difficult to spot that you’ve been passed over again.’

The door opened and Cassie struggled to close it against the wind. ‘Oh Jesus, it would skin you alive out there,’ she said.

‘Good day to you, James.’ Shaun rose from the seat, head bowed once again. He almost collided with Cassie as he walked out the door.

‘Goodbye now, Shaun,’ she said, wiping her feet on the mat.

James could hear a ringing in his ears, growing louder and louder.

‘Is everything all right?’ Cassie asked.

He looked down at his desk and there was Shaun’s glasses case with the little white cloth he’d used to wipe the lenses spilling out of it. Taped to the inside was a piece of lined paper with his name, address, and phone number. James threw the case in the bin beneath his desk. He took the bin and walked to the fireplace, passing along the mantelpiece. ‘I told you to get rid of these fucking cards,’ he said, tossing each one in the bin as he went.

Chapter 16

If asked by anyone about the greatest trick the Catholic Church played on its congregants, and there were many, Father Brian Dempsey would have said the act of confession. It was the idea of it as an anonymous exchange that was most misleading. There was in fact enough light in the confessional to make out the shape of the person sitting on the opposite side of the grille, and so if you had some familiarity with that person, it would be possible to recognise them. And in a small town like Ardglas where there were maybe only a thousand inhabitants, and only a few hundred of those who regularly attended confession, it was even easier to discern who was speaking. You could recognise them by their voice alone. People had some idea of this themselves, and that was why they did not give detailed accounts of their sins but rather a sanitised version. ‘I told my wife to fuck off’ became ‘I used bad language towards my wife.’ ‘I rode my neighbour’s wife’ became ‘I was coveting my neighbour’s wife.’ ‘I beat my wife black-and-blue’ became ‘I was impatient with my wife.’

He was thinking about these things while he listened to Dolores Mullen’s confession. The enclosed space, the dead air, had a soporific effect and he was often half-asleep listening to other people’s sins or drifting off in some kind of reverie. People’s confessions were mostly so routine and dull, like their dreams, interesting only to them. But Dolores’s sins were growing less vague the longer she went on.

‘I feel such anger towards my husband,’ she said. Her voice shook with every word.