‘Good,’ he said. ‘Well, we’re agreed on that. And I think it’s about time you moved on.’
For weeks she’d been anticipating this, with every disdainful glance Dolores gave her, with every excuse he made not to see her. She’d become a nuisance to all involved. She’d served her purpose.
‘The summer’s coming,’ he continued, ‘we can rent that place out for twice the price. It doesn’t make sense having you up there anymore. And it doesn’t look good, you bringing fellas up there the whole time.’
‘What are you talking about, Donal?’
‘The whole town is talking about you – it’s like a knocking shop. And Dolores saw that fella a couple of weeks ago. That fella from Dublin that you were riding.’
‘John? John hasn’t been to see me.’
‘Oh, did you not know? Well, he’s hand-delivering the letters now.’
‘I didn’t get any letter. And what was John—’
‘Look, I’ll be decent about it. You have until the end of the month and then you have to be out. That gives you a few weeks. And in the meantime I want no more of your fucking playacting. Stay away from me, stay away from the kids, and stay away from my wife. Do you hear?’
She pushed against the rock and rose to her full height. She folded her arms and took a few steps nearer to him. ‘Look, I know I’ve acted strangely and I know that things are over between us, but there was a time, brief as it was, when we cared about each other. Or I thought you cared about me at least. And now I’m begging you – if you have even an ounce of human feeling left in you . . . I need your help, Donal. I’m pregnant.’
She watched a look of pure shock etch itself into his features.
‘Don’t you fucking lie to me,’ he said.
‘Donal, as God is my witness—’
‘Are you lying to me?’
‘How do you want me to prove it to you? In a few months’ time there’ll be no disguising it.’
‘And it’s mine?’ he said.
‘It can’t be anyone else’s.’
‘You’re sure of that?’
‘Oh, Donal—’
‘How far along are you?’
‘About six weeks, I think, maybe more. I’ve made an appointment to see the doctor next week.’
‘You haven’t seen a doctor yet?’
‘No.’
‘Then how can you be sure?’
‘I’ve done two pregnancy tests. And I’ve had four children, Donal. My body knows what’s going on.’
‘That child could be anyone’s. And it might not even survive inside you, you’re as old as the fucking hills.’
He placed his face in his hands and let out a muffled roar.
‘Look, Donal, you’re right – I do need to move on. I can go to Dublin and stay with my mother.’
‘And then what will you do?’ He took a step towards her.
‘I need to figure out what I want.’
‘I know what you’ll do,’ he said, taking another step closer. ‘You’ll get on the next boat to England and you’ll get rid of that child.’
She backed away from him. ‘Donal, I don’t know what I’m going to do but—’
‘Are you mad? You can’t keep it. You’re too old. And what are you going to do with it? How will you raise it? You can never bring it back here. I swear to Christ if you even think about it, I’ll break your fucking neck.’
He butted his head closer so that his face was just inches from hers.
She looked away from him. ‘Donal, I need money. I have barely a penny to my name.’
He laughed. ‘You’re asking me for money?’
‘It wouldn’t need to be a lot. Just enough to get away. And whatever happens, I swear to you, once I’m gone, you’ll never hear from me again.’
He moved towards her and she stepped back. She stumbled and fell against the rock. She could feel the dampness, the cold spreading across her back. He was in front of her, so close at that strange, unsteady angle, it was impossible for her to straighten herself, to step aside from him.
‘If I give you a single penny,’ he said, ‘it’ll be to get rid of that child.’ He pointed at her stomach. ‘Do you understand me?’
She looked down at the sand where bits of loose rock were scattered.
