On the Edge of the Loch: A Psychological Novel set in Ireland Read Online Free

urge. Had she abandoned everything, the station, whomever she had been waiting for? No way to know, but he wasn’t willing to be beaten.
    Monday morning, the receptionist reported again there was no response from Lenny’s apartment. She’d pass along his message, when she saw her, if she saw her.
    At mid-afternoon it ended. He’d go there, he decided, find guts. He’d walk through the town, up the hill to Claire Abbey. Find out. In person. He was through fucking around, no more fear, ex-con or not, working class or not, out of place or not.
    The room phone screeched; he grabbed it.
    ‘Tony. I’m sorry . . . about Thursday night. I – ’
    ‘No. Listen, listen, that’s okay, it’s okay, are you alright?’
    ‘I am, I truly am, I’m so sorry. And Tony – ’
    ‘Sure you’re okay? You sound tired, your voice, what’s – ’
    ‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Tony, look, it’s not what you’re thinking, it’s – ’
    ‘I’m not, I’m not thinking anything, nothing. Can I see you, now? Now? You free now?’
    ‘No, I can’t. I can’t now, but . . .’ Her voice died off into silence.
    ‘Lenny? Lenny? What’s wrong? Lenny.’
    ‘Look, I can’t! I just can’t. I’m very sorry. That’s all.’
    ‘You’re married, right? That it? Living with someone who’s hurting you? Say it.’
    ‘That’s not it. It’s not. Anyway, Tony, look . . . I’m thrilled we met. I so enjoyed the time with you. I’ve not laughed like that since, since I don’t know, since in another life.’
    ‘Lenny, listen. It’s Monday. I’ve been calling you since Thursday. Do you get your messages? Do you?’
    ‘Monday. Monday? What messages?’
    ‘The phone messages I left, five messages. They didn’t give them to you, did they?’
    ‘Phone messages.’ Her voice faded, became indistinct. ‘That’s what. . . I have to go.’
    ‘Lenny, no, don’t, please, don’t go. Hold on, hold on. I have to see you. Listen to me, Lenny, you know the Horslips Hotel?’
    ‘I’m not . . . What?’
    ‘Horslips. Horslips. The hotel. Beside Loch Doog. Meet me there, please, at eight o’clock? It’s ten after six now. Can you do that, can you?’
    He waited. Not even her breathing broke through.
    ‘Lenny! Are you – ’
    ‘Horslips. I’ll try, I’ll try. Tony, no!’
    ‘What’s wrong? Tell me. Trust me. What’s going on there?’
    ‘I am, I am fine now, I’m fine, fine.’
    ‘You’re not fine. What was – ’
    ‘Tony, can you forget we met? Can you do that? You have family in America, people you care about?’
    ‘I’m not married, if that’s what you mean. I’m leaving for America in a few days. Meet me, please.’
    ‘I’d like to. I would like to. I don’t think so, I . . . I don’t think.’
    ‘Lenny, I’m not following what you are saying. Let me help. Listen, meet me at the Horslips at eight o’clock. Tonight. We’ll just talk, that’s all, I promise. Okay?’
    ‘Well . . . fine, fine.’
    ‘You’re sure now, right? Horslips Hotel, eight o’clock?’
    ‘Loch Doog. Dark water.’
    ‘Dark water? Is someone listening? Is that it? You sound, you sound – ’
    ‘Always listening, Tony. Listening to me. Looking to find me. You don’t know that.’
    ‘I don’t follow, Lenny. But it doesn’t matter; we can talk in less than two hours, about whatever you like. Eight o’clock, right? You’ll be there? OK?’
    ‘Fine. Bye.’ The line went dead.
    He switched to his best jeans and pulled a white shirt from the bottom of his pack. The boarding house’s old clothes iron did as good a job as his shaking hands would allow. By 7.30 he was ready.
    On the road toward Loch Doog, with over twenty minutes to spare and a fresh sea breeze blowing in, he allowed his senses to escape to the peaks running three sides around him. Along Main Street, Aranroe’s rainbow shopfronts gleamed, people passing by, leaving nods and smiles. This was a bright world, he felt, he was seeing it this way now