John Brady - A Carra ring

Budweiser. Would he get sick on it with the boat hopping on the waves?

“Thanks.”

He sat down next to McKeon.

“Cold are you?”

“Ah, I’m all right.”

“You look cold. Take that there.”

Minogue picked up a nylon jacket with a woolly inside. There was neon green somewhere in the middle of the back, a fancy logo with a little wave in the middle. Drown in style. McKeon held his can while Minogue got into the jacket. He missed threading the zip several times. He steadied himself against the railing.

Iseult arrived on deck in an enormous T-shirt and a pair of football shorts. The breeze took wisps of her hair away from the hair band. Orla closed the door behind her.

“Your towel,” he said. She had goose bumps already. There was an odd light in her eyes.

“What?”

“Your towel. You’ll catch your death of cold.”

“I’m going in the water, Da.”

Tom McKeon was looking up at him with a mischievous look. Minogue wanted to drag him out of his captain’s chair and pitch him into the sea.

“Here,” said McKeon. “Go on.”

Minogue didn’t open the can. He stepped down to where Orla and Iseult huddled.

“Where’s your life jacket then?”

“Do you want one?” Orla asked.

“Of course she does,” Minogue said. “She’ll go to the bottom like a stone. The size of her.”

“Ah, Da! If I thought you were going to start this, I could have brought Ma.”

“Here, Matt,” came McKeon’s voice above. “Come on up and take the helm.”

He didn’t want to take any bloody helm. Jack Tar, climb the rigging; pirates ahoy.

“Come on up! We’re headed through Dalkey Sound out into the bay.”

McKeon showed him the throttle, how to get to neutral, how not to mash the gears to porridge.

“Good man, yes, sit there. I have a few things to get.”

“What, martinis?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Minogue slowed the boat. It was all too easy, wasn’t it? The moving shore, the sky cast up again from the water out in the bay took over his thoughts. How often he had walked there in the woods and now he was out here looking back to shore for signs of life.

“Aim to that side of him, Matt.”

There was gray in the woods under Dalkey Hill already. The bay opened before him, silver and brown. He felt his chest easing, the glow, and then the rush of gladness. Fool I’ve been, he thought, never to have had a boat. Should have been a pet-food tycoon like Tom McKeon. He glanced over. McKeon smiled.

“Go on,” he said. “Open it. It’ll taste a lot better.”

It did. He drank half the can in one go. He could have finished it too. McKeon pointed to Bray Head.

“Aim for there.”

Not a bad fella at all, McKeon. So what if he was trick acting with someone, but — Iseult’s laugh had a hollow sound to it. Orla whispered something to her. Iseult nodded. Minogue eyed her.

“Suits you, Da,” she called out.

“Been to the States, er, Matt?” McKeon asked.

“No.”

“Your lad is there isn’t he?”

“He is.”

McKeon was about to say something but he frowned, then smiled and waved his arm.

“Where else in the world would you have this,” he said. “Isn’t it only gorgeous?”

Minogue nodded. McKeon finished his can. He studied it carefully before tossing it below. He covered a belch with the back of his hand and then pulled hard on the rail. A plane was coming in over the Irish Sea.

“But you can be in touch anywhere,” said McKeon. Minogue frowned. McKeon nodded toward a cell phone on the seat below.

“A fella in that plane there could phone me. Did you know that?”

Minogue nodded.

“Yous all have them now, don’t you?”

“We’ve come to rely on them.”

McKeon winked.

“All digital and all. So’s ye won’t be listened in on. It was in the paper the other day ”

He looked over at the inspector.

“Along with the whole ball of wax with O’Riordan and them. The manager, the whole Larry Smith thing. Well, Jases, talk about scandal. You’re a celebrity now, ha ha, along with herself.”

McKeon winked

“The Holy Family. Ha ha. Catchy though, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well tell me something — if you don’t mind me asking. Did the Guards know about this Little, the one who — well, you know what I’m saying.”

Minogue felt McKeon’s eyes on him but he kept his gaze on the waves.

“No.”

“Ah sure, what odds,” said McKeon “There’s no place like home.”

“Any way we can slip a life jacket on you know who there, Tom?”

McKeon looked over his shoulder at their daughters.

“Oh God, aye. Not sure it’d fit your one, but.”

“Can we try?”

“What are you worrying about? They’ll float. They’re witches, sure.”

McKeon stepped down to the lower deck and began opening hatches. He pulled out ropes, plastic boxes. Minogue looked up over Shankill. There were people on the crest of Katty Gallagher. The mountains had gone dark. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes to here. How long did they plan to be in the water?

He looked back at McKeon. Gone. His head reappeared, turned up to look at Minogue.

“Slow it down, we’re there.”

“There where?”

McKeon was beside him then.

“Thanks. Nice going there. Are you warmed-up now?”

Minogue eyed the two shivering women. Orla bellylaughed about something.

“What do we do now?”

“I drop anchor, they jump in, and I play Jeeves with the gargle. For them, like.”

“Gargle, for Iseult?”

“Oh God, no — under very strict orders there. It’s nonalcoholic stuff. Pretend champagne.”

He watched McKeon let an anchor over the side of the bow.

“Is Orla a good swimmer?”

“The best entirely.”

“Yourself too?”

“Middling to good.” McKeon looked up and winked.

He searched McKeon’s face. The eyes on him. He’d had a few jars before getting into the boat in the first place. The rope was slack. McKeon pulled it tight and tied it.

“Now We’re going nowhere.”

The boat gently wheeling, the rub of the rope as the anchor drew hard took Minogue’s attention. Iseult shrieked with laughter. There were figures on the shore by Killiney, a dog running along the beach.

“Well, girls,” McKeon called out. “Like they say, ‘This is your life.’”

Iseult’s smile faded. She looked out at the pale, oily water. Minogue took another mouthful of beer. Kathleen had persuaded Iseult that there was bacteria and rubbish by the beach that could give her an infection. Neither Kathleen nor Matt had expected Iseult to come up with fifty thousand quid’s worth of boat as a solution, however. No pollution away from the beach, was Iseult’s contention.

“This should be good,” said McKeon.

Orla had turned serious too. She cupped water in her hand and rubbed her face. The boat rocked gently

“Lezzers,” said McKeon behind his hand. “What do you think?”

He looked over when Minogue didn’t answer.

“Only joking. ”

Iseult looked up at her father. She nodded toward the cabin.

“Go ahead there, Matt,” said McKeon.

He perched on the edge of a seat. Iseult loomed large in the doorway.

“Da. I want you to do something. I couldn’t ask you back in Dun Laoghaire.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Won’t do what?”

“Whatever it is. All I want is a bit of a jaunt and go home. You’re cracked. ”

“Come on. Don’t let me down.”

Minogue stared out at the horizon falling and rising in the window.

“Tell Orla’s father to come in here. Cover up the windows for five or ten minutes. That’s all.”