A Goat's Song
Page 42
“Am I embarrassing you?”
Her voice, filled with static, cut through the quiet, while the boat drifted in a calm east wind on a sea that was suddenly without landmarks, on a day that could have belonged to any of the seasons, in a sea that could have been any sea, until the Skegs drifted into sight again. The men smiled at his embarrassment. The feeling he got when he heard her voice was of pride and closeness. That the skipper should cut the engine that Jack might listen seemed a comradely thing to do.
“I’ve made my mind up what to do. I’m sure you’ll be glad to know.”
“You have? Tell me. Over.”
“It’s all in the letters I wrote.”
“But I haven’t received them. Over.”
The radio gave a hoarse crackle. A whistle blew. A sound like a strimmer went through the airwaves.
“What did you say? Can you please repeat the message, Catherine? Over.”
“I can’t hear you properly. I’m going now.”
“When will I see you? Over.”
“I’ll be down next weekend. I’ll leave a letter in the house.”
“See you, then. Over.”
“Goodbye, Jack. Over.”
“Goodbye, Catherine. Over.”
When her call ended, the skipper started the engine up again. They went on. She was never mentioned. It was as if a fantastic sea-animal had been sighted. They had circled it. Then it dived. Then they went on.
He lifted the key out from under the stone and threw open the door of the old light-keepers’ house. He stepped into the hallway and found the letter for which he had prepared himself waiting inside the hall door. It had slipped off the hall stand onto the ground. With the envelope in his hand, he stepped into the kitchen. Unwashed dishes from an unfinished meal sat on the table. A black jumper belonging to Catherine was thrown over a chair. He touched the dark wool. He marvelled at its familiarity and warmth. He lifted the envelope. When he saw how she formed her letters, her presence came very slowly to him. He stood for a split-second with a marvelling look on his face.
Then his heart began its furious beat. He kissed the damp envelope and tore it open. It was good to hear your voice. I hope you remember your promise to me. We must stay sober. And I have to admit I’m also fighting off wretched imaginings that someone else will be enjoying you in my place – but I’m trusting you, treading thin ice in the hope that some day we’ll be skating along without fear.
I love you.
He was possessed by a terrible sensation that he was deluding himself. He could not believe it. He searched round in his mind for the signs of insanity, but there were none. He was in the kitchen of the old light-keepers’ house on Mullet peninsula. It was blowing sand. His world had been magically restored. The nightmare was over.
Jack, she had written, I love you and want to be with you. We have a break this weekend and I’ll be down to see you. There are other people and we could be with them. But we know we want to be with each other. Let’s grow old and sober together.
He saw himself waiting on the new bridge the following afternoon. He saw her alight from the car and begin running towards him. Overcome with happiness he sat there in the December dusk. He hung the cloth out to dry on the line. The bark of a dog flew by.
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Epub ISBN: 9781446475416
Version 1.0
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First published in Great Britain in 1994 by Harvill
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This ebook edition published 2011
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© Dermot Healy, 1994
The author would like to thank his publishers, Harvill, and his editor. Bill Swainson, for their support: the editors of Ambit and The Picador Book of Contemporary Irish Fiction, in which extracts from this novel first appeared; the Society of Authors for their Authors Foundation Award: and the Tyrone Guthrie Centre where some of this novel was written
Lines from “You Can’t Get a Man with a Gun” by Irving Berlin © Copyright 1946 by Irving Berlin. Copyright Renewed. International Copyright Secured. Used by Permission.
All Rights Reserved
Dermot Healy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9781860463099