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By Root 657 0

until daylight. In some strange way, I missed the sounds of Tom crying from the next room. The silence seemed to haunt me more than the sobbing.” He paused, took a deep breath and turned again to stare into the flames. “One night I woke with a start. I could make out the outline of the small wardrobe in the corner, the wooden table by the window. I thought for sure someone had called my name. I got out of bed, groped about in the dark and finally moved towards the window. He was there, Tom, right outside the window, dripping wet, his face so white. ‘Go, go now,’ he was saying, ‘before it’s too late.’ I wanted to tell him I was sorry… but he was gone. I flung open the window. All that was there was the night. I remember thinking, I’m going mad, but then the realization came to me. Tom had come back to warn me with my own words. Right there and then, I made the decision to go. I undid the buttons of my cassock and let it fall to the ground. One step and I was out. I picked up the garment, did up the buttons and laid it out on the bed with the arms neatly crossed in front. I went to the wardrobe, removed the plain black suit, my only temporal clothing, and when I was ready I sat down to wait for morning.”

Peg waited, expectant. Finally she said, “You did speak up, Matt, in the morning, before you left?”

“No, I was gone before daybreak.”

8

It was after nine o’clock when they finally rose from the table. “You’ll stay the night, Nora, no point heading out now.” Peg looked at Nora earnestly. “There’s other people you should talk to who knew Matt, and besides, there’s the garden party tomorrow. Gerry Quinlan may well be there. Now there’s one to talk to, and God knows who else will be about. You may as well bide awhile, girl, now you’re here. You’re in no great hurry, are you?”

“No, not really.”

“Then you may as well stay.” Peg leaned into the table. “We’ll see this one out, once and for all, you and me.”

Nora nodded. “I’ll get my bag from the car before it gets too dark.”

Outside, the community was silent, the evening air still and breathless. When she listened carefully, Nora could hear the ocean tumble onto the beach and the faint rumble of pebbles being sucked away by the ebbing tide. Above her, the sky still reflected the softness of evening. To the southwest a single star, brazen and solitary, winked in the gathering dusk; thousands more peeped out intermittently, awaiting the cover of darkness. She thought about Leitrim and the blackness of the countryside at nighttime, how the sky, frequently laden with heavy rain clouds, would hang overhead like a sodden blanket hiding the brilliance of the stars. She turned away and reached into the car for her bag, making a mental note to have a look at the sky later on when the night was black. With a final glance upwards she headed back into the house.

Peg was not in the kitchen when she returned. She looked about, recalling her arrival that morning as she set her bag down on the floor by her feet. The house was now familiar, the people in the framed photographs no longer strangers. She went to the wall, peering closely at the image of Matt Molloy, trying to find something, anything, to latch onto. He was good-looking, for sure, but his eyes still looked lifeless. Was this how eyes looked in photos? She turned to the other pictures and found a sweet smile, a shy timid look, a strong challenge, a devilish twinkle from the man in uniform. She looked back at Matt Molloy and noticed again the ghost of a smile that barely touched the corners of his mouth. The face somehow seemed more engaging. “Hey, that’s better, a smile for your granddaughter.” It was hard to look at that cheerless face and still feel angry. The toilet flushed and she moved away from the wall, feeling a tad foolish.

Peg came in from the hallway. “We’ll have a little drink now,” she said. “I have one nights, before I go to bed. A small drop of whiskey helps me sleep. Will you have one?”

“That would be perfect.”

Peg reached into the cupboard below the sink and produced a half-full bottle of whiskey. “Bring