by Finn Óg
“I-X group, please,” she said after a few moments. There was a long pause, then her chin twitched as she threw out her line, hoping for a bite. “Hello, is Min there, please?”
Sinead look at her with incredulity.
“Ok, can you put me through, thank you.” Áine’s politeness was on the edge of its range. “It’s a private call.” There was another pause before her lower lip curled in surprise and satisfaction.
“Ah, hello, is that Min?” Sinead could hear a gruff one-word response. “Could you hold one second for Sinead, please. Thank you.”
Sher handed the receiver to her sister.
6
“What did he say?”
“He said, woah there.”
“Woah there?”
“And, haud yer wheesht.”
“Who is he, Billy Connolly?”
Sinead rocked her head a little. “Not a million miles away.”
“Did he know who you were?” Áine pushed, desperate for information.
“Yes, he’s met me – he’s in charge of some specialist intelligence unit. The Irish accent, the name, he’s not an imbecile.”
“Then what the hell did he say!” Áine’s eyes bulged in exasperation.
“Well, you heard me. I told him it was about Sam.”
“Yes, I’m not an imbecile. I can listen to one side of a conversation.” Áine shook her head in bewilderment.
“And he said not to say anything on the blower, and that he would come and see me.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, how’s he gonna come and see you in a lockdown?”
Sinead blew her cheeks out. “I dunno.”
“Does he even know where you live?”
“No,” Sinead said, her heart sinking for the fiftieth time that day.
“What a waste of time that was.”
“Maybe not,” Sinead said. “He and Sam – there’s something between them. I think he was really pleased to meet me after … you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Well,” Sinead started, unsure of herself. “He obviously knew that Sam’s wife had been killed.”
“You would hope so if he’s Sam’s best friend.”
“And, well, Sam left the military because of, you know – the murder. And I got the impression he’d fallen off the radar, Sam, with his friends, like.”
“Except for Min.”
“Well, maybe Min as well. I think he may have only seen him once since the funeral. I thought that, maybe, Min kind of missed him, or had been worried about him. Then he shows up with me, on a kind of holiday.”
“But he knew you weren’t shagging, didn’t he?”
“Áine,” Sinead groaned, her face contorted in revulsion.
“Sorry. It’s not like that,” she parroted a previous conversation.
“I don’t know what he knew. You know how little Sam speaks, so I doubt he said much. I only met Min for dinner, once, on the boat, but it was in a special place and Min had obviously come a long way, and it felt kind of like Sam wanted me to meet him. That’s what I thought at the time, anyway.”
“What special place?”
“Tinker’s Hole. Near an island called Iona. It was so beautiful.”
“Sounds weird.”
“It’s got rocks either side and you can almost touch them on the way in. Then it opens up into this kind of sea oasis, all sheltered and warm, with rock face rising sheer out of the sea. It’s kind of cosy and, like, intimate.”
Áine puckered her lips mockingly. “Feels like I’m intruding.”
“Ah, will you stop.” Sinead scowled, before settling back into the memory. “The boys went off for a while, and I wondered if they might be—”
“More than just friends?” Áine couldn’t help herself.
Sinead growled and shuttered up.
“I’m sorry,” Áine said. “Sorry, I’ll give it a rest. You wondered if they were what?”
“Maybe talking about me. Like, maybe he was seeking some sort of blessing.”
“From Min?”
“I just wondered. Min would have known Shannon, Sam’s wife. They were all close friends. So if Sam was thinking of starting again … ah, I don’t know. I think back sometimes and wonder if maybe that’s what they were off discussing.”
Áine said nothing.
“Wishful thinking, I know, but it was not long after that he finally asked me to go with him and Isla – after all that time, so I wondered if the meeting with Min had changed things, you know?”
“Yeah, I can see what you’re saying.”
“Still, as you say, the lockdown’s made an ass of all that.”
“You’ve waited this long, sis.”
“Yeah,” Sinead said absently. “You wait for one, then two arrive at once.”
“The kid?”
“Yeah.”
“Isla means that much to you, does she?”
Sinead looked up, considering. “Ah, yeah. At least as much, in a way.”
“Are you sure …”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Bloody hell, Áine, we’ve come this far and it’s not even breakfast yet. You might as well get all your reservations out.”
“Are you sure it’s not that you …” Áine couldn’t bring herself to say more.
“Want the child more than the man?”
Áine said nothing, confirming her thoughts.
Sinead sighed. “I wondered about that – the idea of being a kind of mother, of minding her, but I think it’s more that you can’t separate them. They’re a package. It’s like they’re the same thing.”
Áine looked at her sister and conceded.
7
Sinead pulled long hours at the convent. It was a vain hope that immersion in work would serve as a distraction and lessen the longing she felt from the moment she woke until she eventually slept. Even then she found herself shuddering from her sleep at night – the darkness somehow exacerbating her fears. The chances of finding Sam, with all his experience in concealment, were next to nil. She dreamt of waking alone, an old woman, with nothing and no one to reach for.
The lockdown dragged on and the convent cells filled up. Clodagh, the school cook, proved to be an organiser and flourished in the old kitchens, feeding both the nuns and the exiled women. The fare was basic but good enough for the Mother Superior to offer to pay for supplies. Graced with a shopping list from Clodagh, whose growing confidence, Sinead knew, was in danger of becoming an irritation, she spent hours online ordering tonnes of potatoes and vegetables, queuing for delivery slots. She clicked between supermarkets, searching for the best deals and comparing basket prices. The nuns were nothing if not frugal – and it put the time in.
A calm gradually wrapped around the convent – most of the women not having set eyes on a man for longer than they could remember. Sinead knew the beats: they would find solace, initially, in one another’s stories; would offer comfort accompanied by hugging and sympathy. If the lockdown endured, cliques would form, kindred spirits drawn into huddles, and the chat would start. Eventually, at best, there would be cattiness, but there was always the potential for disputes to descend into physical fights. If or when that happened, the nuns would have a quiet word and Sinead would have to manage the expulsions, which would tax her mind days and nights in advance of eventually mustering the courage to ask someone to leave. But, for the moment, there was peace, and she used that time to be a manager and adviser, filling out the forms for housing and refuge, administering finances and trying to think of anything and anyone but Sam and Isla.
And then the vibe shattered.
“Sinead, there’s a man at the door!” Clodagh hissed through the cracked office door which she had neglected to knock. The dinner lady had taken it upon herself to act as the inmates’ spokeswoman – a role she clearly enjoyed.
“What?” Sinead looked up from the Tesco delivery screen.
“
Did you not hear it? Nobody’s answered but we’ve all taken it in turns to sneak a look out the window in case … you know.”
“And is he anyone’s husband?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“He’s built like a shithouse and looks rough.”
Sinead looked at the screen again. “He could be the Tesco delivery driver?”
“Well, he didn’t arrive in a van.”
“How did he arrive?”
“Nobody knows. There’s no car.”
Sinead didn’t like the sound of that. She thought of the woman who had scarpered. She thought of the phone and its incriminating contents, and the fact that it was currently concealed in her bedside cabinet back at the apartment. Had some pimp come to retrieve it? She pushed her chair back and went cautiously to the window, clinging to the old curtain and edging her body forward to take a glance beneath, but the angle was too acute to see anything other than a shaven head.
“I’ll go down,” she said. “If there’s any trouble, call the Guards immediately.”
Clodagh nodded vigorously, scared and excited at the role she had been appointed. As Sinead left the room, Clodagh moved her hand to hover over the phone handset.
If she wasn’t feeding the five thousand, Sinead thought, I’d speed up her placement. She went down the stone stairs, one hand stroking the wrought-iron railing, failing to mask the noise her soft trainers made as it echoed up the wall. She could imagine the women above, leaning over and peering down.
Probably just the postman.
There was no point trying to shout through the door – it was two inches of ancient Irish oak. Her voice would carry only to the women and unnerve them further. She strapped the galvanised intruder link across from the frame, turned the heavy key and pulled the door back quickly to demonstrate the chain.
“Hello?” She saw the outline of a man shimmy to the side, trying to get a look in.
He’s as broad as he’s long, she thought.
Sinead stepped back a little. “Can I help you?” She panicked as the face appeared right into the crack of the door, one eye catching hers.
“Are ye under siege in there, hen?” the voice almost chuckled.
Sinead’s muscles softened from a bind she hadn’t been aware of. “Min?” she said, baffled.
“Were you not expecting me?”
“Eh, well, not in lockdown. It’s—” She rattled the door shut and took off the chain. “Thanks for coming. How did you …?”
She stepped back a little as he moved forward. “That chain’s no worth a rat’s ass,” he muttered as he stood in the hallway looking at her. Sinead was acutely conscious of the bounce of his words up the tiled walls.
“It’s ok,” she shouted, “it’s just a friend of mine!”
There was a murmur above as the women began to withdraw.
“What’s going on?” Min said. “Are yis under threat or wha?” he said, only half joking.
“Can we …” Sinead faltered, looking above, expecting one woman in particular to be listening, “take a breath of fresh air?”
“Aye,” Min said, curious. “Aye, whatever suits.”
They walked down the pebbled path and out into the green field opposite the convent. Sinead knew there would be women watching from the windows above and deliberately kept her back to the building, hoping to lead Min down a path through the trees to the old disused vegetable garden.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she began.
“No bother, no bother at all. I was glad to hear from you, to be honest.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been wanting to get word to our pal, but havnie been able.”
Sinead was desperate to hear why, but wanted to get away from the building before they discussed Sam.
“How did you get here? The flights—”
“It was tricky enough. Normally I’d just borrow a boat and find an excuse for an exercise, but British military in Ireland is still a big no-no.”
Sinead was not oblivious to the politics of the peace process. “So how?”
“Flew to Belfast, stayed at the barracks one night, pretended to do a bit of work, then took a bike down unapproved roads in the middle of the night.”
“You cycled?”
“What? No – a Honda. The police aren’t gonnae stop a bike. They’re only interested in social distancing – passengers and the like. Helmets are handy too. No way of telling who’s under the lid. So I took a bike from the base and here I am.”
“You must have left …” Sinead left the question open, still surprised to see him so soon.
“Just after you called. Like I said, I was pleased to hear from you. How’s Sam – where is he? I’ve been trying to—”
“Oh, Min, I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I wanted to let him know he’s off the hook.”
“How do you mean?” she fired out quickly.
“He’s no under suspicion of all that … have you a phone on ye?”
Sinead patted her pockets, somehow keen to offer proof. “No, it’s back at the—”
“Ok. Well, those killings – they were a bad bunch of bastards, by the way.”
“I know.”
“They were the people behind the bomb that nearly killed his wee lassie. There’s no question, I’ve seen the intel. After they brought me in for questioning, that became a perfect cover for me to take a look – to help, in fact. Made it seem like I was trying to piece together why I’d been hauled over the coals, y’understand?”
“You were questioned?”
“Aye, before I met you, after the first dissidents were killed. They suspected I was passing information to a boy.”
Sinead’s heart sank. “So they knew Sam was killing them?”
“No, they suspected someone else – a Scouser me and Sam served with back a while. Doesn’t matter. They couldn’t prove anything and a lot’s happened since, hen, it’s hard to explain.”
“Tell me, Min, I really want to know.”
They reached the old sleepers of the vegetable garden, now overgrown and messy.
“Well, where is Sam?” Min paused to look up at Sinead.
“I don’t know. He’s on the run – he thinks they’re on to him.”
“Right. Ok.” Min turned and thought for a moment, strolling again, wondering where to begin. “Well, this man – the Scouser they thought was doing the killings – he was our ops officer way back. He got himself arrested.”
Sinead stopped, confused. “This is all …”
“I know, it was a mess,” Min looked at her, shaking his head. “It wasnae the police who lifted the Scouser, it was essentially British Intelligence.”
“For the killings, of the terrorists?” Sinead had stopped moving as she struggled to comprehend what she was being told.
“Aye. Anyway, it looked like he was going down for it, but, instead, the head of intelligence in Northern Ireland was removed and the scouser was released. They’ve concocted some story for the press that the murders were part of an internal feud – the IRA killing each other. Plays well for the police and intelligence.”
“So do they know about Sam?”
“Only one person did, but it seems she’s dead.”
“They killed her?”
“Who knows? Maybe, maybe not. The intel I’ve seen suggests that they genuinely don’t know.”
“Could Sam …?”
“I’ve checked and it couldnae have been him – times don’t work. This woman was a spook, so it might’ve been her own.”
“What?”
“It could have been her own team knocked her off.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t know, darlin’, honestly. It could also have been a freak accident.”
“So they still suspect Sam?”
�
��No,” said Min. “That’s the bizarre thing. There is no mention of Sam in any of the intelligence, and it’s not as if it’s been erased or whatever. It seems he managed to avoid them altogether – apart from this one woman, and she’s dead and never filed any paperwork or told anyone else.”
“So how do you know?”
“My Scouse pal. This spook – she told him, alright, but he’s safe as houses. He’ll never say a word. Me and Sam and him, we go way back.”
“This is all very weird.”
“None of it’s important. All that matters is that Sam is not on the hook for this. They don’t even have a file on him any more. Far as they’re concerned, he retired a few years back and is out of everything.”
“So they’re safe?”
“Who?”
“Sam and Isla.”
“Oh, course, aye, they’re safe.”
“They ran for nothing?”
“Aye,” Min repeated.
“We need to tell them.”
“That’s what I’m saying! That’s why I was glad to hear from ye.”
They sat in an unexpectedly easy silence in Sinead’s car. She had rushed into the convent, called Grace to arrange for her to take over the day shift, placed the grocery order, grabbed her keys and returned to Min.
“What if we get stopped? What will you say?”
“To the Guards?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I have a frontline worker pass.”
“I gathered that. I mean, about me.”
“I’ll say you’re a colleague.”
Min grunted his doubts but said no more until after they got parked and were standing in the lift.
“Swanky, this, for NGO staff.”
“My sister bought it. She’s in blue-chip tech. You might have heard about her,” Sinead tried, half curious to see the extent to which Sam and Min had talked; half hopeful that he would be braced for the inevitable impact of Áine. Min shook his head, barely detectable.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered as they entered the apartment – a reaction Sinead was accustomed to.
“I’ll go and get her.”
Min slowly turned, looking upwards and then almost involuntarily stepping forward to the front-facing room to stare across the Liffey.