‘Well, about a fictional Everyman,’ I say. ‘Working in a bank.’
‘And what’s the story?’
‘Paul has not decided yet,’ I say with difficulty. ‘But he is thinking that perhaps the banker … ah … robs the bank.’
‘Robs it?’
‘Yes …’ On the tabletop, my phone flashes awake a moment, then darkens again. ‘Yes, only … only …’
‘He fucks it up,’ Ish says.
My eyes snap up. Ish looks back at me expressionlessly.
‘He leaves something behind,’ she says. ‘They’re on to him straight away.’
I gulp, cover it up with a sip of coffee that makes me gag in turn. ‘That seems to be how the story’s going,’ I admit.
Ish’s kind eyes study me with concern. ‘Bit of a downer, eh? As an ending?’
‘It’s probably more realistic,’ I say stoically.
‘Couldn’t there be a twist or something?’
‘What sort of a twist?’
Ish looks down at her hands for a long time. ‘How about he’s got a mate?’
‘Who does?’
‘The banker. He’s got a mate, and his mate’s got — she’s got something the bank doesn’t want anyone to see.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like a report,’ she says. ‘On a flash drive.’ Everything freezes. I feel my mouth drop open, my eyes stare like they’re going to pop out of my head. ‘He told her to get rid of it, but she didn’t,’ she continues. ‘And the day the government’s about to approve the bailout, she sends it to the newspapers.’ A shaft of sea-light tumbles through the window, flashes from the last blonde streaks in her hair. The strangest sensation steals over me, as if an invisible sun, hidden for decades behind an eclipse, were for the first time coming into view.
‘If people knew what the bank had been up to, might be tricky to justify bailing it out, mightn’t it?’ she muses. ‘And without the bailout … well, it’s goodbye bank.’ She glances over her shoulder in the direction of Transaction House, as if half-expecting to see it crumbling into dust here and now.
‘She’d lose her job.’ I am barely able to speak.
‘She’d lose her job of being an arsehole,’ she says. ‘She’d probably be grateful.’
I flop back in my chair. The space around me has taken on a wild, kinetic feel, as if it’s gained an extra dimension.
‘Why?’ I say.
‘Eh?’
‘Why does she do it?’
‘Why did you do it?’ she returns. My cheeks flare; she softens. ‘Some things are too big to fail, aren’t they?’
Outside, the rainbow flag cracks in the wind; the blue air seems to tinkle, as if with secret chimes. ‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘Just seemed like a better ending,’ she says.
‘So what would you do next?’
‘It’s not me, is it, it’s the character.’
‘Okay, what does the character do? In the epilogue? I can tell Paul.’
‘I don’t know … maybe she takes up anthropology again. Goes back to the island, lives with the tribe, tries to help stop them being washed away.’
‘That would work.’
‘Then she meets a handsome island chieftain and falls in love.’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s tall, has a nice body.’
‘Of course.’
‘And he’s really good at racquetball.’
‘Let me write this down.’
‘What about you, Claude? What happens to you?’
Before I can reply, Ariadne appears at the table with a plate of baklava. ‘You want to try?’ she says. ‘I have changed the recipe.’
She waits while we dig in with our spoons.
‘Fuck,’ Ish says. ‘This is incredible.’
‘Nostimo,’ I agree. ‘Very nostimo.’
‘That’s because this time I use Greek honey,’ Ariadne says; then adds, looking at me, ‘Once you taste it, always you will be coming back for more.’
With that, she dances away again. Ish raises an eyebrow.
‘What?’ I say.
‘You need to ask her out.’
‘In the book, you mean?’ I say. ‘Or in real life?’
Ish grins at me over her cup.
‘That’s up to you, mate,’ she says. ‘That’s up to you.’
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Simon Prosser, Mitzi Angel, Anna Kelly and Caroline Pretty for their invaluable editorial work; to Natasha Fairweather for her support and insight; and to all at United Agents. Thanks to Donna Tartt for her inspired early reading. Thanks also to Anna Ridley, Cliona Lewis, Patricia McVeigh, Neil Stewart, Mark C. O’Flaherty, Tim Jarvis, Ronan Kelly, Jonathan Hanly, Jon Ihle, Stephen McGovern, Adam Kelly, Sarah Bannan and Linda Fallon. A big ευχαριστώ to Viviana Miliaresi for all of her help. Thanks to the Arts Council of Ireland, An Chomhairle Ealaíon, for their financial assistance. Miriam and Sam — for real life, my love and gratitude to you always.