‘Do you understand me?’ he said again.
She nodded.
‘Who have you told?’ he asked.
‘I haven’t told a single solitary soul, Donal.’
He grabbed her throat. ‘Who have you told?’
‘Who can I tell about this?’
He released his grip on her and pointed his finger in her face. ‘And you keep it that way. Because if I find out you’ve told anyone, I don’t care where you are, Colette, I’ll find you and I’ll skin you alive. I’ll rip the fucking head off your body. Do you hear me?’
Every inch of her was gripped by a cold trembling.
‘And you can forget staying there until the end of the month – I want you out by next Sunday. OK?’
He turned and she watched his back, the great hulking sway of it as he moved away from her, his jacket a black sail filled
with wind. She felt her knees buckle and placed her palms flat against the rock to keep herself in place. She took in great
lungfuls of air, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed what had just happened. The sound of barking carried to her
and she saw the black Labrador stretching its lead to reach Donal, the little woman’s body tilted back to keep the dog restrained.
But Donal didn’t seem to notice. Steady and determined, his gait unchanged, he headed in the direction of his home, where
she guessed his wife had stood at the window watching every moment of what had just played out between them.
Chapter 23
Izzy placed the blue plastic fish box on the bedroom floor, half full already with old tableware. She took down some bedclothes from the cupboard above the wardrobe and laid them carefully between the cups and plates. A car pulled up at the front of the house, and she heard the creak of the handbrake. She peered out the window and saw James hurry into the house. She listened to his panting as he climbed the stairs. When he stepped into the room he wore a strange look, at once shy and determined. He was carrying a white envelope. He lowered his eyes and she followed his gaze to the bed, where her suitcase lay open, packed with clothes and shoes and toiletries.
‘There’s a contract in here,’ he said, holding up the envelope. ‘It’s for the purchase of the property on the main street.’
‘Christ,’ she said, ‘you move quickly when it suits you.’
‘It needs your signature. I’m going to leave this downstairs on the kitchen table, and if I come back tonight and these papers are unsigned, I’ll know your decision.’
‘When you come back tonight, I’ll be gone, James.’
She sat on the end of the bed with her back to him and listened as he retreated down the stairs. She waited for the sound of the front door closing, the noise of his car heading down the drive, then lifted the box and carried it outside to the boot of her car. In the driver’s seat she looked across the bay to where the cottage lay. On a clear day she could make out one corner of the house and knew when Colette had the fire lit because she could see smoke rising up from behind the hill. But today a veil of cloud hung between them. She decided to take her chance anyway.
As she pulled up at the cottage, her heart sank at the sight of Colette standing in the doorway. So often in the past weeks she’d wondered what Colette was doing at that moment, but if she’d not been standing in front of her now, she would have just left the box on the doorstep and driven away. Izzy felt shamed by the pure, solid sight of her.
‘Is it yourself, Izzy Keaveney?’ Colette asked.
‘Hello, Colette,’ she said, retrieving the box from the boot. Izzy turned and saw that Colette was staring down at the front door of the Mullens’ house.
‘Will you come in for a minute?’ Colette said, retreating inside.
Izzy remained on the doorstep for a moment, holding the box on one hip. She saw that Colette had fixed a little wooden sign to the front of the house with ‘Innisfree’ written on it. She remembered the poem from her schooldays.
‘I really should keep going, Colette, I have a few things to be getting on with.’
‘Sure, you have time for a quick cup.’
Izzy stepped over the threshold and wiped her feet on the mat. Colette stood at the sink filling the kettle. A half-empty bottle of vodka stood on the counter beside her. Izzy carried the box to the table and placed it on a chair. One side of the table was covered in stacks of books and papers. The other end was free of clutter and she sat there and looked around her. How different it all appeared in daylight. The flagstone floor looked clean and well swept, the remains of a fire mouldered in the hearth. There was an order to things that surprised her.
‘You should light that fire, Colette. There’s not much heat in it today.’
‘Do you take sugar?’ Colette asked.
‘Just milk, thanks.’
‘Well, I hope I’ve put enough in that,’ Colette said, handing Izzy a cup.
‘That looks perfect.’
As Colette sat down in her chair the woollen roll-neck and scarves she was ruched in bunched up on her chest like plumage. She was still a handsome woman, with coal-black tresses and skin so white the bright blue of her eyes shrilled against it. But her body had become slack and thick with drink, her face riven by the lines of a much older woman.
‘You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve started early,’ she said, taking a sip from her glass. ‘I would have offered you one, but I don’t suppose you’re the kind for drinking in the afternoon.’
‘A cup of tea is just grand,’ Izzy said.
Colette took up her pouch of tobacco. Izzy watched Colette’s hands tremble as she swaddled the little nub of tobacco with the paper.
Izzy rubbed the tips of her fingers against her palms. ‘I was doing a bit of a clear-out and I thought you might need a few things – nothing much, just some old crockery and blankets and things to make the place a bit more homely.’
Colette tossed the pouch onto the table. She struck a match. For just a second the papery skin of her face lit up. She took a drag. ‘Well, I hope my squalid conditions have made you feel better about yourself.’ Colette’s cigarette had not lit properly and she flicked at the tip with the flame of her lighter.
Izzy shifted in her chair and sat up, placing her palms together and pinning them between her knees. She cast a look around the room. ‘It’s very peaceful up here. You must get a lot of work done.’
‘Oh. It’s peaceful, all right. For peace comes dropping slow.’ She performed the line with a deep, weighted tenor. ‘But why are you really here, Izzy?’
‘Well, I’ve decided to go away for a while.’
‘Have you indeed.’
