Gina closes her eyes.
‘- and it is believed that the dead man, who hasn’t been named yet, was known to the Gardaí.’
Oh God. Poor Catherine.
Gina shifts around in the seat and tries to shut out the rest of the bulletin. She’d like to ask the driver to turn the radio off, or at least to turn the volume down, but she feels she’s used up any goodwill she might have had with him. She also knows that this is ridiculous. But they’re turning at the KCR now and moving pretty fast – so why rock the boat? When she arrives at Catherine’s house she’s going to need all the composure and self-possession she can muster.
After the sports results, weather report and an ad break the music comes back on, still eighties, but this time a little less grating.
A few minutes later, the cab turns into the road where Catherine lives, a small crescent of semi-detached houses built in the fifties – and barely half a mile from where Gina, her sisters and Noel were all born and grew up. Gina hasn’t been out here for a while and she soon remembers why. Despite growing up in Dolanstown, she has always found the design and layout of the place – as with so many of Dublin’s suburban housing estates – to be soulless and oppressive.
At night it’s not so bad, she thinks. It’s dark, street dark, and the atmosphere is a little different.
‘This is fine,’ she tells the driver, ‘just here on the left.’
The cab pulls up.
Gina pays and gets out. It’s colder than it seemed earlier, and she’s suddenly conscious of what she’s wearing – short denim skirt, floral print top and pin-striped jacket – all fine for wandering around town in, but a little bonkers for out here, for this.
There’s nothing she can do about it now, though – not that Catherine is going to register what Gina, or anyone else for that matter, is wearing. But Yvonne or Michelle might, and the last thing she wants to see is them exchanging glances.
Look at madame.
Is it Gina’s fault that they have no social lives anymore? Is it her fault that they are both stuck in a time warp? Is it her fault that they never got out of Dolanstown?
But she’s being ridiculous again, and she knows it, and she knows why, too. It’s displacement. Because this is going to be really hard. The level of Catherine’s grief will be unimaginable. No one will be able to help her. No one will have anything more to offer her than a hug and a few platitudes.
Approaching the house, Gina takes a deep breath.
The first thing she notices is an SUV parked in the driveway.
This can only be Noel’s.
She rolls her eyes. Every time she sees Noel, which of course isn’t that often, he’s driving something different.
As she’s passing the SUV, she peers into its tinted windows. She sees nothing except her own reflection. Up ahead, the hall door of the house opens and Noel himself comes out. He’s wearing a heavy overcoat and appears to be in a hurry. When he spots Gina, he rushes up to her, takes her by the hand and kisses her on the cheek.
‘How are you, sweetheart?’
‘I’m OK. How’s Catherine?’
He makes a face, shakes his head, shrugs his shoulders – each time about to say something, each time about to make an assessment, each time defeated.
Gina nods along.
Eventually, Noel says, ‘The Guards have just left. They say she can’t go in to identify the body until the morning.’
‘Which means it’s going to be a long night.’
‘Yeah, looks like it.’
They both shake their heads.
Gina then says, ‘So what happened? Do we know anything?’
‘No. I made a couple of calls a while ago. No one knows a thing.’ He pauses. ‘You do realise what he’s been up to for the last few years?’
‘Well yeah, I read the papers,’ Gina says. ‘But it’s not like anyone ever talks about it.’
‘No. I suppose. Catherine had a hard time with it, understandably.’ He looks around, shivers from the cold and turns back to face Gina. ‘But anyway, from what I’ve heard it was unexpected.’
‘Weird.’
‘Yeah.’
Noel then looks Gina up and down. ‘Jesus, are you not freezing in that get-up?’
She nods yes, then says, ‘I was in town at a gig. Going on to a party. What do you want?’
‘No, I’m just saying.’ He looks at her again. ‘Here, do you want my coat?’
He starts taking it off. She puts a hand out to stop him.
‘No,’ she laughs. ‘Are you mad?’
This is so Noel.
He shuffles the coat back on.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, I’m grand.’
He reaches out and strokes her cheek.
‘You’re my baby sister,’ he says, ‘and I love you. I wish I saw you more often. Are you all right?’
‘Yeah, of course.’
‘How’s the software business?’
‘It’s OK,’ she says. It feels weird to be talking like this, casually, as if nothing has happened. ‘We’re under a lot of pressure at the moment.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, with the downturn and all.’
Gina and her business partner, P.J., run Lucius, a small software-development company. They started up with some decent venture capital behind them, but that was back when the economy still seemed unassailable. Now, after two years, they have yet to launch a product on the market, and P.J.’ s trip to London is an attempt to drum up some potential customer interest.
‘It’s a living,’ she adds, half defensively. ‘Not that my bank manager is too convinced.’
Noel squints his eyes at this.
‘What?’ Gina says.
‘Are you all right for money?’
She nods. But that’s not enough, apparently. ‘Yeah, I am.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Noel,’ she says, ‘that was a joke.’
Though actually it wasn’t. Since Lucius started up, they’ve been working on the same software package – a suite of integrated data-management tools – but their burn rate has been pretty startling of late. In fact, the VCs are beginning to get alarmed, which is quite serious, because if they pull the plug now there won’t be any salaries at the end of the month. There won’t be any jobs.
For anyone.
‘Look, I’m fine,’ she adds. ‘I am, really. Thanks.’
Noel shrugs his shoulders.
Gina raps her knuckles gently against the side of the SUV. ‘So, where are you off to?’
Noel exhales and looks exasperated all of a sudden. ‘Oh, I’ve got to go and pick something up in town. I’m meeting someone.’ He glances at his watch. ‘I’ll be back, though. Half an hour, forty-five minutes.’
‘Whatever happened to office hours?’
He snorts at this. ‘You must be joking.’
‘I suppose I am. But listen,’ she says, ‘Richmond Plaza? It’s amazing. Really. I look down the quays at it every morning when I come out of my building. It’s transforming the skyline.’
‘Well, that’s the idea,’ Noel says. The firm he’s a partner in, BCM, are the structural engineers on this docklands development. ‘Let’s hope we make it to the finishing line.’
Gina furrows her brow. ‘Why wouldn’t you? Isn’t it almost finished?’
‘It is, yeah, of course. And we will.’ He looks out, over her shoulder, hesitating. ‘It’s just that, well, you know what it’s like these days. And you wouldn’t believe the headaches involved.’ He looks at his watch again, and adds, ‘This, for instance.’
Gina notices for the first time how gaunt Noel looks. He is pale and has bags under his eyes.