The Boatman's Wife(25)

They staggered out of the sea. She pushed her toes into the damp sand, and squeezed her feet.

‘That was so cool,’ Jesse said, as they landed on the beach. She shook herself like a dog, spraying him with her wet hair.

‘Hey, you!’ he laughed, catching her by the arm and spinning her away from him.

‘My top is totally soaked!’ she declared.

‘I can fix that,’ he said. ‘You can wear my shirt.’

‘What are you going to wear?’

‘My leather with nothing underneath.’ He grinned at her as he sat on the beach, his wet chest gleaming with rivulets of seawater.

‘Well, I could do that too,’ she remarked, trying not to stare at his body, as she sat down next to him.

‘True, and it would be a lot more sexy,’ he said, and she felt herself blushing. ‘But not very gentlemanly of me, so here you go.’ He threw her his T-shirt.

She pulled it on over her head, catching his scent. Fresh and citrusy.

‘Oh, the blue suits you,’ he said. ‘You should keep it.’

She shook her head, not knowing what to say back, but wanting more than anything to keep his T-shirt.

Jesse leant over and put his hand to her face, traced the side of her cheek, cupping it with his palm. The air felt tight between them, and a voice inside her head was screaming at her to pull away. But she did the opposite, let herself be drawn towards him.

The taste of Jesse’s kisses was salty like the sea, and she felt the same as she had in the water. Lost in sensation, as he pulled her over to him and they embraced. His wet chest against the damp T-shirt. He slipped his fingers under the soft cloth, and unclasped her wet bra. Pulled it off and away from under the T-shirt. She was falling into him, and she wanted to so much, but then she remembered where she was, who she was, and she jerked away.

‘Sorry,’ Jesse said, concern on his face. ‘Too far?’

‘No, it’s just, we’re out in the open, anyone could come along,’ she said.

‘Course, sorry,’ he said, looking apologetic, and releasing her. Immediately, she regretted her caution. All she wanted was to kiss him again. But Jesse was already slinging on his jacket.

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I’m starving.’



They drove further down the coast and into Sligo town, parking the bike down by the river. They paused for a moment to watch two swans gliding along the water, before Jesse took Niamh’s hand in his. She felt a thrill pass through her. Brendan had never walked down a street with her, holding her hand. Not once in all the years she’d known him. In fact, no boy had ever held her hand. She felt her pale cheeks blooming again, but she didn’t pull her hand away. She was aware of Jesse’s T-shirt against her bare skin, of being braless and walking down the main street in Sligo with the American boy.

‘Oh wow, I love this place,’ Jesse said as they stepped into the dim interior of Hargadon Bros with its panelled walls of dark wood, and black and white photographic prints of Irish characters from bygone times.

‘It’s the best pub in Sligo,’ Niamh said.

Inside Hargadon Bros, Niamh was at home, as if she were in the front room of her beloved Ireland. The woody tobacco scent of the bar, the cluster of tweed-capped men on high stools, and the glittering motes spinning in the shafts of afternoon light through the dusty windows, all sunk deep into her soul.

It was so different from Murphy’s, where she worked. There, the cracked linoleum, crooked old chairs and tables, the brown wallpaper, and freezing outside toilet was in stark contrast to the soft-focus haze of Hargadon Bros.

Niamh took the lead and showed Jesse into the snug. They slid into a cosy booth and ordered fish chowder along with two pints of Guinness.

‘Man, this Irish soda bread is awesome,’ Jesse said, crumbling it into his chowder. His action brought a memory back, sharp and painful. Her daddy had used to do the same thing with his bread. Crumble it into his food. Drove her mammy nuts.

‘Cormac, why would you ruin a perfectly good Irish stew with lumps of bread?’

‘It’s how I like it, Rosie!’ her dad would laugh.

‘You’re a strange man, Kelly,’ her mam would say, but smiling all the same.

‘That I am.’ Her dad had winked at Niamh, while her mam continued to give out.

Niamh swirled her chowder around with her spoon, her appetite gone.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ Jesse leaned over. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

‘No, sorry,’ Niamh said, annoyed with herself for slipping into the past again. ‘Tell me more about your family. Do you have brothers? Sisters?’

‘Yeah,’ Jesse said. ‘I’ve three big sisters. There’s ten years between me and my closest sister, Maisie.’

‘So you were a bit of a mistake?’ Niamh teased him. Trying her best not to be distracted by the thought of his naked chest beneath the zipped-up biking jacket.

‘You could say that,’ Jesse said. ‘How about you?’

‘No brothers, no sisters,’ she said. ‘But I’ve a cousin. Brendan. We’re close.’

As soon as she told him, she regretted it.

‘That’s cool,’ Jesse said, not noticing her sudden tension. ‘I got lots of cousins too.’

But Niamh wasn’t listening. She shouldn’t be on this date with Jesse. Brendan wouldn’t like it. He’d told her it was the price they had to pay. Never get involved with civilians. But was she supposed to be alone forever?