A Week in Winter(61)

John took it all casually. ‘Yes, he was kind enough to say he knew my work. But he was fascinating. He has hens, you know, and beehives and a goat. He has a house full of books – he’s as happy as anyone I ever met.’

‘Extraordinary,’ Nicola was wistful. ‘It must be wonderful to be happy.’

John looked at her sharply but said no more.

Before they went to bed, they went outside to breathe in the cold sea air. Orla was just wheeling out her bicycle and on her way home.

‘Do you ever get tired of this view?’ Henry asked her.

‘No, I missed it so much when I lived in London. Some people find it sad. I don’t.’

‘What about the poor birdwatcher you were telling us about? Does he find it sad?’

‘Shay finds everything sad,’ Orla said, and cycled home.

It was at three o’clock in the morning that Henry and Nicola were wakened by the sound of birds crying out to each other. It wasn’t nearly time for the dawn chorus or the early-morning gathering of the gulls. Possibly it was a bird in distress out on their little balcony.

They got up to investigate.

Silhouetted against the moonlit sea was the thin figure of a teenage boy in a thin jumper, holding his arms around himself, his head back and weeping.

This must be Shay. Shay, who found everything sad.

Without even consulting each other, they put on their coats and shoes and went downstairs. They let themselves out into the cold night air.

The boy’s eyes were closed, his face contorted. They couldn’t make out the words that he was still crying aloud. He was shaking, and his thin shoulders were hunched in despair. He was dangerously near the edge of the cliff.

They moved towards him steadily, talking to each other so that he would not be startled at their approach.

He opened his eyes and saw them. ‘You’re not going to change my mind,’ he said.

‘No, that’s true,’ Henry said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re right. I’m not going to change your mind. If you don’t do it now, you’ll do it later tonight or next week. I know that.’

‘So why are you trying to stop me?’

‘Stop you? We’re not trying to stop you, are we, Nicola?’

‘No. Lord, no. People do what they want to do.’

‘So what are you doing then?’ His eyes were huge and filled with terror and his thin body was shaking.

‘We wanted to ask you about the greylag goose. We saw one today. I gather it flew in from Iceland.’

‘There’s nothing odd about seeing a greylag goose. Sure, the place is coming down with them. Now if you’d seen a snow goose, that would be something to talk about,’ said Shay.

‘A snow goose? Do they come from Iceland too?’ Nicola was moving round behind him but almost nonchalantly, and looking vaguely out to sea as if hoping to catch a snow goose in the light of the moon.

‘No, they’re from Arctic Canada, Greenland. You’d see them over in Wexford on the east coast. They don’t come here much.’

‘Have you seen them yourself?’ Henry wondered.

‘Oh yes, often, but as I say, not round here. I saw a bean goose last year. That’s fairly rare.’

‘A bean goose!’ Henry tried to put awe and admiration into his voice.

The boy smiled.

‘Could you come in and show us the bean goose in the bird book?’ Nicola asked, as if the thought had just come to her.

‘Ah, no. I’d only have Chicky going on and on about my going to the doctor. I hate doctors.’

‘Oh, I know.’ Nicola rolled her eyes to heaven as if sharing his view.

‘Anyway, you could look it up yourself. She has all the books in there.’

‘It’s not the same. You could explain . . .’

‘No, I wouldn’t feel easy about it.’ He was about to back away. Nicola was right behind him.

She put her hand gently on his arm. ‘Please come in with us. Henry can’t sleep, you see, and it would be such a help to us.’

‘All right, so. Just for a bit,’ he said, and came with them into the kitchen of Stone House.

They found him a big tartan jacket while his thin sweater was drying on the radiator. Nicola made them tea and they had some bread and cheese. He was still there explaining how you would tell a barnacle goose from a brent goose when the O’Haras arrived, calling out his name.

They had read the note he had left on their table; the note saying he was sorry but this was the only way out. They had been praying as they ran across the cliffs that they would be in time.

Shay’s father sat down at Chicky’s table and cried like a baby.

They phoned Shay’s mother, who had been so deeply in shock that she couldn’t come with them in the search. Chicky had come downstairs and was coping with everything as if this was to be expected in a day’s work.

‘We need a doctor,’ Shay’s sister said.

Shay looked up, annoyed at the idea.

Chicky was about to explain that there were already two doctors in the kitchen. Henry shook his head.

‘I’m sure Dr Dai would come,’ he said.

‘He’ll know what to do,’ Nicola agreed.

Chicky understood.

Next morning at breakfast they didn’t talk about it. Orla already knew. The whole of Stoneybridge had heard how the two English visitors had talked the boy out of the death he had planned. She looked at them gratefully as she served the food.