The Secret Place (Dublin Murder Squad, #5)(93)

‘Seriously? What’d they tell you? She came after guys with garden shears?’

‘Nah. They said she . . .’ Finn glances sideways at Julia. ‘I mean, the way I heard it, she was kind of a slut.’

The word comes out practically radioactive with self-consciousness. Julia enquires, ‘Are you trying to see if I’ll get all shocked because you said “slut”?’

Finn’s eyebrows go up and he stares, half shocked himself. She watches him coolly, amused.

‘Well,’ he says, in the end. ‘I guess. Sort of.’

‘Were you hoping I would or I wouldn’t?’

He shakes his head. He’s starting to smile, at himself, snared. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Anything else you want to try shocking me with? You could go for “shit”. Or even “f*ck”, if you’re feeling really crazy.’

‘I think I’m done. Thanks, though.’

Julia decides to let him off the hook. She lies back on the grass beside him and spins the cap off the bottle. ‘The way we heard it,’ she says, ‘the nun was shagging like half the priests from Colm’s, and then some kid found out and ratted her out to the Father Superior. Him and the Mother Superior strangled the nun and hid her body somewhere in the grounds, nobody’s totally sure where, so she’s haunting both schools till she gets a proper burial. And if she catches anyone, she thinks it’s the kid who ratted her out, so she tries to strangle them and they go insane. Does that about cover what you heard?’

‘Well. Yeah. More or less.’

‘Saved you some trouble there,’ Julia says. ‘I think I’ve earned this.’ She has another sip. This one actually tastes OK. She decides, with relief, that she doesn’t hate rum after all.

Finn reaches for the bottle, and Julia holds it out. His fingers skim over hers, tentative, light. Over the back of her hand, up to her wrist.

‘Ah-ah,’ Julia says, shoving the bottle at him and ignoring the leap of something in her stomach.

Finn takes his hand back. ‘Why not?’ he asks, after a second. He’s not looking at Julia.

Julia says, ‘Got a smoke?’

Finn props himself up on an elbow and scans the back lawn; somewhere far off a high squeal falls into a giggle, but there’s nothing that sounds like nuns on the hunt. He fishes in his jeans pocket and pulls out a very battered packet of Marlboro Lights. Julia lights up – she’s pretty sure it looked expert – and hands the lighter back.

‘So . . . ?’ Finn says, and waits.

‘Nothing personal,’ Julia says. ‘Believe me. Me and a Colm’s guy is never going to happen, is all. No matter what you’ve probably heard.’ Finn tries to stay blank, but the eyelid-flicker tells her he’s heard plenty. ‘Yeah. So if you want to go back inside and find someone who’ll spend the evening with your hand up her top, feel free. I promise not to get my ickle feelings hurt.’

She totally, no question, expects him to go. There are at least two dozen girls inside who would rugby-tackle the chance to have Finn Carroll’s tongue down their throats, and most of them are prettier than Julia to begin with. Instead Finn shrugs and pulls out a smoke of his own. ‘I’m here now.’

‘I’m not kidding.’

‘I know.’

‘Your loss,’ Julia says. She lies back on the grass, feeling the damp tickle of it on the back of her neck, and blows smoke up at the sky. The rum is kicking in, making her arms go happily floppy. She considers the possibility that she underestimated Finn Carroll.

Finn uncaps the bottle and has a swig. ‘So the ghost nun,’ he says. ‘Do you believe in stuff like that?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ Julia says. ‘Some of it. Maybe not the ghost nun – I bet the teachers just made her up to stop us doing this – but some stuff. How about you?’

Finn takes another swig. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘I mean, no, because there’s no scientific evidence, but I actually think I’m probably wrong. You know?’

‘More rum,’ Julia says, holding out her free hand. ‘I think I need to catch up.’

Finn passes it over. ‘Like, OK: everyone in history’s thought they were the ones who finally knew everything. In the Renaissance, right, they were positive they knew exactly how the universe worked, till the next set of guys came along and proved that they were missing like a hundred important things. And then that set of guys were sure they had it all down, till another set came along and showed them parts they were missing.’

He glances at Julia, checking if she’s laughing at him, which she isn’t, and if she’s listening. Which she is, completely.

‘So,’ he says, ‘it’s pretty unlikely, just mathematically, that we’re living in the one single era that happens to finally have everything figured out. Which means there’s a decent possibility that the reason we can’t explain how ghosts and stuff could exist is because we haven’t figured it out yet, not because they don’t. And it’s pretty arrogant of us to think it definitely has to be the other way round.’

Finn takes a drag of his cigarette and squints at the blow of smoke like it’s turned fascinating. Even in the moonlight, Julia can see the deeper colour on his cheeks.

‘Well,’ he says. ‘Probably that all sounded totally stupid. You can tell me to shut up now.’