part, Paula guessed Aidan had passed on the news she’d given him one grey January day in Ballyterrin General Hospital, windows lashed by melting snow, herself recovering from a knife attack and barely able to walk. ‘So you know I’m . . . eh—’
‘Pregnant. Yeah,’ he’d mumbled, staring at the floor. She was telling him now because she’d almost died and that ought to give her a small amount of leeway, surely?
‘How much . . . I mean, when . . . ?’
‘Three, four months or so.’ She watched him adding up, his head sinking lower.
‘Oh,’ he’d said.
Paula decided just to say it, ripping off the bandage. ‘I slept with Guy.’
Aidan’s head had jerked up. She went on hastily. ‘Before us, I mean. It was – we’d found Cathy Carr’s body, and I – it just happened.’
Aidan took this in, his face slowly hardening. ‘It’s not mine, is that what you’re saying?’
‘I’m saying I have no idea. Honest to God, I don’t. It could be . . . either.’
‘Can you not count? You’ve got a doctorate, for fuck’s sake.’
‘It takes two, you know? I don’t remember you saying let’s stop and find a condom.’
‘I was pissed!’
‘Well, I was – oh, I don’t know. It just happened. And you lambasting me about safer sex really isn’t going to help. And someone just tried to kill me and take the baby, so I’d really like to not get in a row, OK?’
Aidan had stared at the floor some more, rubbing his dark head with one hand. Nicotine stained, bitten-nailed, story notes smudged in ink on the back. His hands made her sad. ‘Have you told Brooking?’
‘No. I’m telling you first.’
If she’d hoped that would placate him, there was no sign of it. ‘If you want money, tell me. Or whatever you decide.’
She earned more than him, but didn’t say this. ‘You don’t have to – I decided to have it . . .’ (Her – it was a girl, but she felt squeamish saying this to him. For him, it was still just a massive problem.) ‘I thought about it a lot, you know, but in the end I couldn’t— . . .’
‘You were going to have an abortion.’
She’d shut her eyes. ‘Aidan, if you go all pro-life on me, I swear to God I will kick your head in. As soon as I’m able, I mean. You don’t get to be arsey with me and moralistic. This might be my body it’s happening to but I didn’t do it on my own.’
He looked angry, muttered, ‘Wish you hadn’t slept with him too. He’s fucking married and all. I never thought you’d be the type, Maguire.’
Her hands clutched in the pillows. ‘I really will kick your arse when I’m better. I didn’t cheat on anyone, did I? Anyway, I thought she’d left him. She was in London. And – you dumped me, remember?’
‘Ah, here we go. It was years ago! Anything else you want to bring up? Did I do something in the Famine too, or at the Battle of the Boyne?’ He blinked a few times. ‘I’ll leave you be. Tell me what you want me to do.’ He paused at the door. ‘You’re not even sorry, Maguire. I know you didn’t mean it, but – me, and him, for fuck’s sake. The Brit cop. You’re so taken up defending yourself you never even think to say sorry.’
And the news had clearly filtered through to Maeve. She’d of course taken the side of Aidan, her friend since university – more than a friend, maybe. It was something Paula tended to dwell on late at night, as the baby kicked at her insides. That’s if she wasn’t thinking about Guy playing Happy Families with his wife and daughter.
She’d emailed Maeve to say she’d be in Dublin but there was no answer, so she drove down alone, parking her car in a side street in Donnybrook and waddling out in the warm spring sunshine. Was it OK to park there? She couldn’t make sense of the sign, it was all hours and numbers and her brain couldn’t take it in. The place was a red-brick Georgian town house, with a shiny navy door and bay trees in pots outside. Paula climbed
‘Pregnant. Yeah,’ he’d mumbled, staring at the floor. She was telling him now because she’d almost died and that ought to give her a small amount of leeway, surely?
‘How much . . . I mean, when . . . ?’
‘Three, four months or so.’ She watched him adding up, his head sinking lower.
‘Oh,’ he’d said.
Paula decided just to say it, ripping off the bandage. ‘I slept with Guy.’
Aidan’s head had jerked up. She went on hastily. ‘Before us, I mean. It was – we’d found Cathy Carr’s body, and I – it just happened.’
Aidan took this in, his face slowly hardening. ‘It’s not mine, is that what you’re saying?’
‘I’m saying I have no idea. Honest to God, I don’t. It could be . . . either.’
‘Can you not count? You’ve got a doctorate, for fuck’s sake.’
‘It takes two, you know? I don’t remember you saying let’s stop and find a condom.’
‘I was pissed!’
‘Well, I was – oh, I don’t know. It just happened. And you lambasting me about safer sex really isn’t going to help. And someone just tried to kill me and take the baby, so I’d really like to not get in a row, OK?’
Aidan had stared at the floor some more, rubbing his dark head with one hand. Nicotine stained, bitten-nailed, story notes smudged in ink on the back. His hands made her sad. ‘Have you told Brooking?’
‘No. I’m telling you first.’
If she’d hoped that would placate him, there was no sign of it. ‘If you want money, tell me. Or whatever you decide.’
She earned more than him, but didn’t say this. ‘You don’t have to – I decided to have it . . .’ (Her – it was a girl, but she felt squeamish saying this to him. For him, it was still just a massive problem.) ‘I thought about it a lot, you know, but in the end I couldn’t— . . .’
‘You were going to have an abortion.’
She’d shut her eyes. ‘Aidan, if you go all pro-life on me, I swear to God I will kick your head in. As soon as I’m able, I mean. You don’t get to be arsey with me and moralistic. This might be my body it’s happening to but I didn’t do it on my own.’
He looked angry, muttered, ‘Wish you hadn’t slept with him too. He’s fucking married and all. I never thought you’d be the type, Maguire.’
Her hands clutched in the pillows. ‘I really will kick your arse when I’m better. I didn’t cheat on anyone, did I? Anyway, I thought she’d left him. She was in London. And – you dumped me, remember?’
‘Ah, here we go. It was years ago! Anything else you want to bring up? Did I do something in the Famine too, or at the Battle of the Boyne?’ He blinked a few times. ‘I’ll leave you be. Tell me what you want me to do.’ He paused at the door. ‘You’re not even sorry, Maguire. I know you didn’t mean it, but – me, and him, for fuck’s sake. The Brit cop. You’re so taken up defending yourself you never even think to say sorry.’
And the news had clearly filtered through to Maeve. She’d of course taken the side of Aidan, her friend since university – more than a friend, maybe. It was something Paula tended to dwell on late at night, as the baby kicked at her insides. That’s if she wasn’t thinking about Guy playing Happy Families with his wife and daughter.
She’d emailed Maeve to say she’d be in Dublin but there was no answer, so she drove down alone, parking her car in a side street in Donnybrook and waddling out in the warm spring sunshine. Was it OK to park there? She couldn’t make sense of the sign, it was all hours and numbers and her brain couldn’t take it in. The place was a red-brick Georgian town house, with a shiny navy door and bay trees in pots outside. Paula climbed
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