“That’s nice,” Lena says. She turns his head to one side and the other, assessing the damage. “Dessie went home and told Noreen about Trey coming into the pub,” she says, “and Noreen was onto me so fast she left skid marks. So I thought I’d call round and see what you made of it. I guessed right, or near enough.”

Cal takes her hand away from his cheek and wraps his arms around her. He stands there for a long time, with his face down in the warmth of her hair, feeling the steady thump of her heart against his chest and the strength of her hands on his back.

Twelve

Mart, whom Cal has been expecting, shows up in the morning, as Lena is leaving. He hangs back at the gate, being discreet as obtrusively as possible and grinning his head off, while Lena kisses Cal goodbye on the doorstep. When she starts up her car, Mart opens the gate for her and gives a big wave as she drives past. Lena lifts a hand without looking at him.

Cal, not wanting to be obliged to invite Mart in, heads down to the gate. “D’you see what I mean, now?” Mart says, sighing. “That one’s got no time for me. If I was the sensitive type, I’d be wounded right to the heart.”

“You were just aiming to see if you could fluster her,” Cal says. Rip and Kojak gallop off to inspect the perimeter together.

“I wouldn’t waste my time,” Mart says. “Lena Dunne’s not easy flustered.”

“You’d have to do a lot better’n that,” Cal agrees.

Mart watches the car disappear behind the hedges. He’s given no sign of noticing Cal’s various injuries, which this morning are pretty tender and hard to miss. “What would ye be talking about, the two of ye?” he inquires.

The question startles Cal. “Like what?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. One way or t’other, I’ve never had much opportunity for conversation with the women—apart from my mammy, and sure, I knew what she was going to say before she did. She was a fine woman, my mammy, but she’d no truck with variety; the same conversations she’d been having for seventy year were good enough for her. I don’t count that. What would a man be talking about with a woman?”

“Jeez, man,” Cal says. “I dunno.”

“I’m not asking you what sweet nothings you go whispering in her ear. I’m asking about conversation. What kinda chats you’d be having over a cuppa tea, like.”

“Stuff,” Cal says. “Like I’d talk about with anyone. What do you talk about with the guys in the pub?”

“Stuff,” Mart acknowledges. “Fair point there, bucko. Ah, well; if I get curious enough, I’ll have to hunt out a woman that’s willing to have a cuppa tea with the likes of me, and find out for myself.” He gazes meditatively after Lena’s car. “That’s what Bobby’s planning to do, if Johnny Reddy makes him a millionaire: get himself a woman. I don’t know does he think he can order one off Amazon, like a DVD, but that’s what he says.” He throws Cal a sharp glance. “What d’you reckon there, boyo? Is wee Johnny going to make millionaires of us all?”

“Who knows,” Cal says. Rip comes zooming back from his circuit with Kojak and butts up against Cal’s leg, looking for attention. Cal runs a hand over him. He’s picked up a nice coating of burrs somewhere along the way.

“Johnny musta been drunker than he looked, last night,” Mart informs Cal. “Didja see him yet today?”

“Nope,” Cal says.

“He was down at Noreen’s, lolling about taking up space, when I went in. D’you know what he done last night, on his way home? Walked straight off the path and went arse over tip halfway down the mountainside. You oughta see the state of him. Like he got bet up by every rock on the way down.”

So Johnny has weighed up his various risks and has no intention of skipping town, and he wants to make that clear. “He didn’t look that drunk to me,” Cal says. “Not when I left, anyway.”

“Isn’t that what I’m saying to you? I wasn’t counting the man’s pints, but he musta been lashing them into him, to go astray on a path he’s been walking half his life. What d’you reckon about that?”

“I don’t rate Johnny’s brainpower too high,” Cal says. “Drunk or sober. I’m not gonna get surprised by any dumb thing he does.”

“True enough,” Mart acknowledges. “I wouldn’t rate you a fool, though, Sunny Jim. Did you fall down the mountainside too, didja?”

“Nope,” Cal says. “Slipped in the shower. I musta been drunker than I thought, too.”

“The shower’s a terrible man,” Mart agrees obligingly. “My cousin up in Gorteen, he slipped in the shower and smacked his head. He’s got a mad squint on him ever since. It does be fierce hard work talking to him; you wouldn’t know which eye to look at.”

“Guess I got lucky,” Cal says. He squats down and starts picking burrs out of Rip’s coat.

“So far,” Mart points out. “I’d watch that shower if I was you. Once they get a taste of blood, there’s no holding them.”

“Yeah,” Cal says. “Maybe I’ll get one of those non-slip mat things.”