The Ladies' Midnight Swimming Club(11)

‘I see,’ Harry said softly and perhaps he did, but he was good enough not to offer any trite words too quickly. Instead, they both sat in silence for a little while and considered the deep amber liquid in the glasses before them. ‘So, you’re thinking of taking a bit of time away from the madding crowd, eh?’ he said ordering two more doubles.

‘Yes, Harry, I think I might be,’ Dan said with a lot more certainty than he’d realised he felt.

‘Perhaps it’s time to finally write that book?’

‘That’s what I was starting to think too,’ Dan said softly, because maybe, for the first time since he left Leah’s office, it seemed like there might actually be something he could pull out of this day apart from a hellish hangover.

‘Better do it now than leave it too late.’ Harry’s voice was gentle, but he wasn’t saying anything that hadn’t already occurred to Dan. ‘You could take a few months and who knows, if you don’t find what you’re looking for, maybe you’ll find something else? Something even better?’ Harry was trying to cheer him up; still, Dan appreciated the effort. ‘Now, less of this maudlin hanging about. Let’s drink these and get you to bed.’ Harry handed him one of the glasses, they swallowed them quickly and Dan felt as if his whole body had been set on fire from the inside out. ‘Come on, back to mine – you can sleep on the sofa for tonight. Dream about this new start until tomorrow.’

*

The mother of all hangovers – he deserved it of course, but it wasn’t helped by the fact that the sun streamed in, scratching his eyes open on the uncomfortable leather couch. He lay for a while, in denial about the stiffness that had set into his back, the throbbing pain in his head, and the dryness in his mouth that made him feel as if he’d gulped down sand instead of too much whiskey the night before. Most of all, he was trying to thwart the overhanging bleakness that he knew marked out his first day of unemployment.

‘Coffee, mate – that’s what you need.’ Harry handed him a mug that must have contained at least four shots of the strong coffee he had imported from some undoubtedly ethical bean farmer in Brazil, via a stopover in Andalucía for roasting and pricey packaging.

‘Urgh.’ Dan shuddered as he took the first sip.

‘You really did hit it hard last night.’ Harry slapped his shoulder and grabbed the vintage man bag that held his notebook and probably an array of travel-sized grooming products. He balanced on the edge of the sofa for a moment, drinking the last of his own coffee. ‘I’ve been thinking, you know, what you said last night, about maybe taking time.’ He looked at Dan now. ‘You should do it. Take yourself out of London for a while, see if you can’t write that novel – have a go. If you come up with anything half decent send it to me.’

‘You want first dibs at something that I haven’t even written yet?’

‘I want you to write the bloody thing and wipe the satisfied smile off Leah Maine’s face, that’s what I want. If it’s any good, I’ll see if I can sell it for you. How’s that for a deal?’

‘That’s pretty decent of you, mate,’ Dan said, although at this point, he was more grateful for the coffee, even if it did taste like liquid tar.

‘And you should get out of London, head for the sticks, the proper sticks I mean, not somewhere like the Cotswolds where you’d be tempted to come back before you’ve finished.’

‘Right,’ Dan said, although he’d never lived anywhere outside of London in his life, well… not as far as he could remember at least.

‘I’m thinking Wales? Or Scotland? You might meet some lovely lass. You never know…’

‘Ireland. I could go to Ireland. There’s a place there I’ve always wanted to visit. It’s on the west coast, as far away from London as I’m likely to get.’

‘Hang on, mate, I didn’t mean go into complete isolation.’ Harry laughed, but there was an edge to him that perhaps meant he realised that Dan was actually serious about this.

‘It’s the land of saints and scholars. Where better to find my muse?’

‘Yes, but it’s hardly the sort of place your mates are going to be able to pop over to for a weekend, now is it? What’s wrong with Snowdonia or the Highlands?’

‘Ah, come on, Harry, if I’m going to do this, I might as well do it properly.’ And even if his head was still hurting and his back was aching, Dan felt as if there might be something to look forward to. He drank back the contents of the mug and stood up – suddenly he had things to do. There were calls to make, perhaps a new future to look forward to and maybe even some closure on what had gone before. ‘I’ll see about booking something today and I’ll let you know before I leave.’





5


Niall


Niall searched frantically in each of the bags. ‘How could you leave it behind?’ he spat at his mother, his voice almost on breaking point.

‘I didn’t leave it behind, I just…’ He’d placed his games console on the stairs, waiting to drop it in the centre of the large carry-on bag that years ago they’d bought for going to Spain – back when they were a real family and did real family things together. Whoever forgot to pack it in the car didn’t really matter, but he was much too angry to admit this. All he could think of was that it was not in Ballycove. He’d only noticed it was missing when he went to unpack his bags on the bed. It added to his frustration that the room was tiny, and that most of his video games would have to be stacked on the floor. Not that those were much use without his console. On a tall locker, he’d placed the huge television he’d brought from his own room in Dublin. The TV was a gift from his father, probably to assuage his guilt at taking off for Australia and leaving him here with his mother. We can Skype each other; it’ll be like I’m still here. Yeah. Right. Sure, it will.