to say something else, but she simply sipped her tea. She sat upright, her legs crossed at the ankles, her shoulders rounded as if she was physically regressing into herself.
The air in the room had taken on an unusual quality, the light seeming to have stilled and greyed. In the distance we heard the first heavy rumbling of a thunderstorm. The windows stippled with heavy drops of rain, which ran grimy steaks in the fine dusting of sand on the glass.
Simon concluded his conversation by snapping his phone shut, then came over to where we were sitting. He stood above us.
‘Where’s my tea?’ he asked, staring at Caroline.
‘I’ll get it for you,’ she said, standing up so suddenly she spilt some of her own tea on her hand and trouser leg. ‘Shit,’ she said, trying to find somewhere to place her cup and saucer.
I stood and reached for a handful of napkins from the table for her, but in order to do so, I had to reach past Simon. He continued to stand in my way, until I had to ask him to let me past.
By the time I had gathered a handful and turned to Caroline, she had already wiped her hands dry on her jumper and was pouring Simon his tea. He must have recognized the annoyance on my face as he returned my stare.
‘He’s still an asshole,’ I told my wife Debbie later. I had accompanied Caroline and Simon back to the B&B where they were both staying, though in separate rooms, before coming on home myself to get something to eat. Peter’s body would not be ready to be waked until the following day, when his remains would be taken back to his grandparents’ house in Sligo.
‘He’s lost a child, Ben,’ Debbie said. She was washing up the dishes while I finished eating. By the time I’d got home, the rest of the family had already eaten and our children, Penny and Shane, were in bed.
‘He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Peter when he was alive. Caroline was the one who cared for him. She’s grieving too, but she’s not throwing her weight about.’
‘You can’t get involved,’ Debbie said, putting down the dishcloth and coming over to the table to sit. ‘You know how marriages work. You need to stay out of it.’
‘I don’t like seeing Caroline being taken advantage of,’ I said.
‘She’s a big girl, Ben. She doesn’t need you to look out for her.’
‘It’s not the way I remember her. Caroline wouldn’t take shit from anyone.’
‘People are different with their partners. Maybe this is her way of grieving. Maybe it’s easier on her not to fight. However she handles her husband, you need to respect it.’
She stood up, then added darkly, ‘And try to keep your feelings for her under control.’
Tuesday, 6 February
Chapter Eleven
I made it to the hospital before 10 a.m., driving through a rainstorm so heavy that, even on full speed, my windscreen wipers proved ineffective. The remains of Peter Williams were to be released sometime later that day, to be driven to Caroline’s parents’ home, from where he would be waked. I had promised Caroline that I would see her at the hospital.
She and Simon were sitting in the cafe on the second floor when I arrived. Peter’s remains would be delayed for another hour, they’d been told, with the result that they were forced to remain in the hospital together in what seemed an uneasy truce.
I bought a cup of tea and sat with them. Despite having been in Caroline’s company on and off since Saturday, I had not had a chance to speak to her at any real length. Our conversations, prior to Peter’s body being washed up on the beach, had revolved around the efforts being made to find him. We had not spoken about Caroline’s life since leaving Lifford, as if to engage in such a reflective topic would force her to consider also the more recent events and whether the two might be connected. However, with the discovery of his body, I was aware that in addition to the physical post-mortem being conducted, Caroline would be conducting her own
The air in the room had taken on an unusual quality, the light seeming to have stilled and greyed. In the distance we heard the first heavy rumbling of a thunderstorm. The windows stippled with heavy drops of rain, which ran grimy steaks in the fine dusting of sand on the glass.
Simon concluded his conversation by snapping his phone shut, then came over to where we were sitting. He stood above us.
‘Where’s my tea?’ he asked, staring at Caroline.
‘I’ll get it for you,’ she said, standing up so suddenly she spilt some of her own tea on her hand and trouser leg. ‘Shit,’ she said, trying to find somewhere to place her cup and saucer.
I stood and reached for a handful of napkins from the table for her, but in order to do so, I had to reach past Simon. He continued to stand in my way, until I had to ask him to let me past.
By the time I had gathered a handful and turned to Caroline, she had already wiped her hands dry on her jumper and was pouring Simon his tea. He must have recognized the annoyance on my face as he returned my stare.
‘He’s still an asshole,’ I told my wife Debbie later. I had accompanied Caroline and Simon back to the B&B where they were both staying, though in separate rooms, before coming on home myself to get something to eat. Peter’s body would not be ready to be waked until the following day, when his remains would be taken back to his grandparents’ house in Sligo.
‘He’s lost a child, Ben,’ Debbie said. She was washing up the dishes while I finished eating. By the time I’d got home, the rest of the family had already eaten and our children, Penny and Shane, were in bed.
‘He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Peter when he was alive. Caroline was the one who cared for him. She’s grieving too, but she’s not throwing her weight about.’
‘You can’t get involved,’ Debbie said, putting down the dishcloth and coming over to the table to sit. ‘You know how marriages work. You need to stay out of it.’
‘I don’t like seeing Caroline being taken advantage of,’ I said.
‘She’s a big girl, Ben. She doesn’t need you to look out for her.’
‘It’s not the way I remember her. Caroline wouldn’t take shit from anyone.’
‘People are different with their partners. Maybe this is her way of grieving. Maybe it’s easier on her not to fight. However she handles her husband, you need to respect it.’
She stood up, then added darkly, ‘And try to keep your feelings for her under control.’
Tuesday, 6 February
Chapter Eleven
I made it to the hospital before 10 a.m., driving through a rainstorm so heavy that, even on full speed, my windscreen wipers proved ineffective. The remains of Peter Williams were to be released sometime later that day, to be driven to Caroline’s parents’ home, from where he would be waked. I had promised Caroline that I would see her at the hospital.
She and Simon were sitting in the cafe on the second floor when I arrived. Peter’s remains would be delayed for another hour, they’d been told, with the result that they were forced to remain in the hospital together in what seemed an uneasy truce.
I bought a cup of tea and sat with them. Despite having been in Caroline’s company on and off since Saturday, I had not had a chance to speak to her at any real length. Our conversations, prior to Peter’s body being washed up on the beach, had revolved around the efforts being made to find him. We had not spoken about Caroline’s life since leaving Lifford, as if to engage in such a reflective topic would force her to consider also the more recent events and whether the two might be connected. However, with the discovery of his body, I was aware that in addition to the physical post-mortem being conducted, Caroline would be conducting her own
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