by David Mark
He thinks about it. Casts around for an answer that works. “I’m not brave, Roisin. Not a hero. I just blunder around and somehow it’s worked out. But Mum was right. She asked me whether I was ready to do something that could actually make a difference. Christ, I’d do more good going back to the croft...”
“Whatever you choose,” says Roisin, and she squeezes his forearm. “You’d let me be whatever I wanted. It’s not mad to expect the same in return.”
“I expect nothing,” he says, and tries to keep the tears from his voice. “I just want to make you proud.”
Roisin shakes her head. Smiles into his neck. “She’ll be so fucking proud, Aector,” she says, and her small, warm hand finds his big, cold fist. She places his palm on her belly. “This time,” she says, and there is a ferocity to her voice. “Your girl. Your Lilah. He’s a fighter, this one. She’s you, and she’s me, and she’s herself too.”
McAvoy pulls her closer. “He got away with it,” he mutters. “Roper. Handed in his notice, took his pension. Working for a consultancy in London, making a fortune. And Owen – they got him. Put him away while I was dead to the world...”
“You nearly died,” says Roisin. “And there’s nothing gone wrong you can’t put right.”
McAvoy can’t find the words. Just holds her, close, and wishes there were a way to make her see that there is nothing in his life worth anything if she weren’t there to help him put himself back together.
“I nearly lost you,” says Roisin, softly, her lips brushing his skin. “I felt your heart stop. Truly. I felt the world break. And I called out, and you came back...”
“Roisin...” he begins. He can’t find a way to end the sentence. Feels tears spill. Feels her, kneading her fingers through his hair, his beard, cupping his big scarred face as if it were made of fine china.
“This Pharaoh,” she says, sitting back and looking into his damp, glazed eyes. “You know she fancies you, yeah? You only got the job because she wants to rattle your bones?”
“Roisin...” he begins, and he feels her love as if it were a second layer of skin.
She grins. Kisses him. “Keep it professional. You’ll do good.”
He says nothing. Lets her kiss him. Feels everything else drift away.
“Me gamau dut...” says Roisin. Then adds, for his benefit: “For ever.”
He can’t find the words to reply. He just knows that here, now, life seems like something worth protecting.
He wonders whether, in the depths of the dark winter, he will find his way towards the light.
THE END
Table of Contents
Title Page
Contents
Copyright
Praise for David Mark
Other books
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Epilogue