Falling Glass Part 40

Killian concealed a yawn behind his hand.

He was tired. He enjoyed talking to her, he was liking that cold breeze off the water, now, but it had been an exhausting few days.

"What did you like about astronomy?" he asked out of politeness.

She began talking.

She talked stars and Doppler shifts and planets and the expanding universe and the possibility of life on Mars or on the frozen moons of t.i.tan or Europa.

Her voice was losing that neutral Anglo-Irish cadence it had acquired in the years with Richard and slipping back into pure Ballymena.

He enjoyed that.

She kept going and he found himself drifting.

"Let's go to bed," she said.

He nodded and followed her inside.

"You go on, I'll sleep out here," he said.

"No. Let's go to bed," she said.

She took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

They pushed the twin beds next to each other and stripped naked and lay together under the skylight.

She showed him the constellations and she told him the Latin names and he told her the Shelta names, the Irish names, the real names.

And they lay under Orion and Mars and Saturn's spouse, King Jupiter.

"I forgot to tell you something," she whispered.

"What?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving our lives."

"You saved yourself."

"No. It was you."

Their hands touched.

Her fingers in his big paw.

Maybe he's the one, she thought.

And if he wasn't it didn't matter.

They made love.

And the planets turned in the Keplerian clockwork of their ellipses.

And the moons about the planets.

Their mouths meeting over the frozen oceans of Europa.

She kissed his furrowed brow and his strong jaw and his hard lips.

He kissed her back.

And she said: "I'm afraid, Killian...it's been a long time." And he said: "I'll show you."

And her legs wrapped about him and they showed each other.

More increments of that raw time...

And this time the seconds weren't long enough.

And then, when it was over, they lay in each others arms and slept.

CHAPTER 16.

CEILIDH NIGHT.

Killian was sitting on the beach watching the ocean traffic and listening to the surf break along the sh.o.r.e. It was March in eastern Ulster which normally meant permanent drizzle but although it was grey and overcast, the rain appeared to be over - at least for now. Scotland was invisible this morning behind a line of magenta haze that hadn't stopped the pa.s.senger ferries confidently heading in its general direction from the port of Larne.

It was their third day on Islandmagee and Killian was relaxed but not at ease.

He waved to Donal, who was making his way along the dunes towards him.

The Pavee had given all of them a change of clothes so that now he and Donal looked similar, an elder and older brother perhaps, dressed in long German army surplus trench coats, boots and working jeans.

Donal stopped next to him and took a pipe from his pocket. "Nus a dhabjon dhuilsha," he said in Belfast Shelta and then in Irish: "Go mbeanna Dia is Muire duit."

"And to you," Killian replied in English.

Donal rubbed some uncut tobacco in his palm, filled the pipe and sat down next to him.

"I got that phone you wanted," Donal said.

"Thank you," Killian said. "Untraceable?"

"It was only stolen this morning, it'll take them a working day to switch off the service," Donal replied.

"Where'd you get it? They might be able to deduce my whereabouts if it was somewhere close."

Donal shook his head. "We got it in Belfast. You're fine. But they might be able to triangulate you if they're really clever."

"I won't stay on that long," Killian said.

"Well, here you go," Donal said.

Killian took the phone. A shiny little red thing with a picture of h.e.l.lo Kitty on it.

"You've no idea how much I appreciate this," Killian said. "Can I give you some dough? All I'm doing here is eating your food and sleeping in your house."

Donal shook his head. "Nah, you're fine. You're the Prodigal, it's our job to take you in."

Killian tried to hand him a fifty-pound note but Donal wouldn't countenance it.

"Your money's no good here, mate," he said.

Killian rubbed his chin and considered for a moment. "Can I at least give you a hand at the cemetery? I heard that's what you were doing for cash."

Donal shrugged. "It's not necessary."

"I'd feel better about staying here if I was doing something," Killian said.

"If you want to. I'm going out this afternoon. It's just me and a spade, it's tedious stuff. They'd get Poles for it if they could afford Poles."

"I'm not shy of a wee bit of sweat. Okay if I tag?"

"Aye, if you want. Gimme someone to talk to."

"And me too, it's an oestrogen fest at my house."

Donal yawned, wiped the sand off his b.u.m and stood. "Well, things to do mate. We're having a ceilidh tonight. Can you play an instrument?"

Killian shook his head. "Not me."

"I'd make your calls now and toss it just to be on the safe side," Donal said.

"Aye, I'll do that," Killian replied.

"Slainte."

"Slainte."

Donal wandered back to the camp puffing his pipe.

A gang of kids and dogs came running along the beach in front of him. They were playing Kick a Tin, a complex hide and seek game Killian had played as a wean. Rachel's girls were among them.

In a couple of days they'd gone completely native. Their hair was braided, they'd swapped jeans and T-shirts for dresses and home-made wool sweaters, and shoes were an alien item of clothing. The big gang of Pavee children had taken the girls and made them wee sisters. Rachel of course still kept an eye on them, especially little Sue; not that Sue wanted her ma keeping tabs since this was her first chance to be a big la.s.s with la.s.sies younger than herself.

Still, Killian mused, Rachel was right to be watchful, there was the sea after all and no Pavee could ever forget that the watery element was a dodgy place.

Although Rachel tried to keep a discreet distance Killian could see her in front of the caravan, sitting in a deckchair, reading a novel. She too was shoeless and her hair was blowing about her face.

"h.e.l.lo Mr Killian," Sue said breathlessly as she ran past.

"Hi," Killian said.

"I've got the best place in the world to hide," Sue shouted.

"Where?"

"In the old phone box!" Sue exclaimed.

"Good idea," Killian said, although that was the first place he would have looked.

"I'm hiding in the phone box," Sue said again, this time even more loudly.

"Good idea," Killian said again and now everybody knows it, he thought.

Sue looked at him as if he was a great big eejit.

"If anyone asks that's where I'll be," she said ridiculously loudly.

"Okay," Killian said, still not catching on.

"I'll really be behind the skip in the car park, but when Tara goes to the phone box, I'll run to the den, kick the tin and get in free!" Sue whispered.

Killian grinned and slapped his thigh. "Genius!" he said.

"Aye, I know," said Sue, who not only looked healthy and happy but also appeared to have grown an inch over the last three days.

"Olann an cat cluin bainne leis!" Killian said.

"Meaow!" Sue agreed and off she ran.

Picked up some of the lingo too, Killian thought. But his grin flatlined as he realised it was now time for his own phone shenanigans.

He called Sean.

"h.e.l.lo?" Sean said.