brother and I’ve nothing against him –’
She shot him a disbelieving look. ‘Really?’
He smiled. ‘We’ll never be best buddies, but I can take him or leave him, you know that. And you and I both know that Andrew likes the easy life: he’ll be at that desk in that
office till the day he retires. And who’s to say that he doesn’t enjoy it? I know it would kill you to have to sit in front of a computer screen all day, and it certainly wouldn’t
be my idea of fun, but it might well suit Andrew – he’s obviously got some affinity with computers. And I’m sure he’s bringing home a healthy cheque at the end of all those
boring weeks – programmers are well looked after.’
She nodded. ‘I suppose so.’ Donal always managed to make sense of things. She smiled across at him; she was lucky to be married to him – not that she’d ever give him the
satisfaction of admitting it, of course.
He’d never learnt to drive – a quirk she secretly found endearing. ‘There are enough internal combustion engines polluting the planet without me adding to them. And the bike
helps keep me in shape.’ He bent his elbow and made a fist, pointing at his barely bulging tricep. ‘Feel that for muscle. Go on, feel it.’ She tickled under his arm instead, and
he grabbed her. ‘You’re just jealous of my perfectly toned physique. I’m getting you a bike for your next birthday.’
She put her most innocent face on. ‘How’ll you afford it though, after you’ve paid for the diamond necklace?’
She got used to being the driver for both of them, had always preferred to drive than be driven anyway. And she had to admire the stance he’d taken: cycling to work at dawn in the middle
of an Irish winter couldn’t be anyone’s idea of fun, however environmentally friendly it was. But he never complained, and it was definitely cheaper – although she wasn’t
convinced that cycling through all those petrol fumes was healthier than driving through them.
Once, she’d suggested that he wear a mask on the bike, showing him a magazine photo of masked cyclists in Tokyo. ‘I hate to think of you inhaling all those fumes every
day.’
She was wasting her time – he’d been highly amused. ‘Right, I’ll pick up the mask when I go to collect the cape and the special powers, OK?’ Sometimes he could be
too damn smart.
Now she reached out and pressed the slumber button on the radio, and Diana Krall sang ‘Cry Me a River’ in her chocolaty voice. Laura sank back onto the pillows – ten more
minutes. There was an estate agent’s brochure waiting to be finished off that should have been gone two days ago; she’d better get it out of the way today.
She started to plan the menu for Thursday night.
Blast
. Andrew O’Neill braked sharply as he reached the traffic lights, just gone red. If the garda car hadn’t been in his rear-view mirror he’d have
kept going; everyone else did. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched the stream of cars crossing in front of him. One person in most of them; no wonder they all crawled home
every day. He’d share if anyone suggested it – quite a few of the lads lived around the North Circular – but nobody else seemed too bothered, so why should he? Mind you, the
traffic here was still nowhere near as bad as Dublin – imagine the poor sods who had to battle through
that
every day. He’d driven up there only once when he started seeing
Ruth; after crawling all the way through Monasterevin, and arriving two hours late to meet her and her flatmates in The Gravediggers, he vowed to switch to the train.
His stomach rumbled; he thought about dinner. Chicken, maybe – they’d had fish last night. With health-conscious Mother doing the cooking, they didn’t see a lot of red meat.
Not that he was complaining; his mother’s meals were up there with the best, no doubt about it. Everything fully planned and meticulously timed, and beautifully presented.
She shot him a disbelieving look. ‘Really?’
He smiled. ‘We’ll never be best buddies, but I can take him or leave him, you know that. And you and I both know that Andrew likes the easy life: he’ll be at that desk in that
office till the day he retires. And who’s to say that he doesn’t enjoy it? I know it would kill you to have to sit in front of a computer screen all day, and it certainly wouldn’t
be my idea of fun, but it might well suit Andrew – he’s obviously got some affinity with computers. And I’m sure he’s bringing home a healthy cheque at the end of all those
boring weeks – programmers are well looked after.’
She nodded. ‘I suppose so.’ Donal always managed to make sense of things. She smiled across at him; she was lucky to be married to him – not that she’d ever give him the
satisfaction of admitting it, of course.
He’d never learnt to drive – a quirk she secretly found endearing. ‘There are enough internal combustion engines polluting the planet without me adding to them. And the bike
helps keep me in shape.’ He bent his elbow and made a fist, pointing at his barely bulging tricep. ‘Feel that for muscle. Go on, feel it.’ She tickled under his arm instead, and
he grabbed her. ‘You’re just jealous of my perfectly toned physique. I’m getting you a bike for your next birthday.’
She put her most innocent face on. ‘How’ll you afford it though, after you’ve paid for the diamond necklace?’
She got used to being the driver for both of them, had always preferred to drive than be driven anyway. And she had to admire the stance he’d taken: cycling to work at dawn in the middle
of an Irish winter couldn’t be anyone’s idea of fun, however environmentally friendly it was. But he never complained, and it was definitely cheaper – although she wasn’t
convinced that cycling through all those petrol fumes was healthier than driving through them.
Once, she’d suggested that he wear a mask on the bike, showing him a magazine photo of masked cyclists in Tokyo. ‘I hate to think of you inhaling all those fumes every
day.’
She was wasting her time – he’d been highly amused. ‘Right, I’ll pick up the mask when I go to collect the cape and the special powers, OK?’ Sometimes he could be
too damn smart.
Now she reached out and pressed the slumber button on the radio, and Diana Krall sang ‘Cry Me a River’ in her chocolaty voice. Laura sank back onto the pillows – ten more
minutes. There was an estate agent’s brochure waiting to be finished off that should have been gone two days ago; she’d better get it out of the way today.
She started to plan the menu for Thursday night.
Blast
. Andrew O’Neill braked sharply as he reached the traffic lights, just gone red. If the garda car hadn’t been in his rear-view mirror he’d have
kept going; everyone else did. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he watched the stream of cars crossing in front of him. One person in most of them; no wonder they all crawled home
every day. He’d share if anyone suggested it – quite a few of the lads lived around the North Circular – but nobody else seemed too bothered, so why should he? Mind you, the
traffic here was still nowhere near as bad as Dublin – imagine the poor sods who had to battle through
that
every day. He’d driven up there only once when he started seeing
Ruth; after crawling all the way through Monasterevin, and arriving two hours late to meet her and her flatmates in The Gravediggers, he vowed to switch to the train.
His stomach rumbled; he thought about dinner. Chicken, maybe – they’d had fish last night. With health-conscious Mother doing the cooking, they didn’t see a lot of red meat.
Not that he was complaining; his mother’s meals were up there with the best, no doubt about it. Everything fully planned and meticulously timed, and beautifully presented.
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