The Swan Song of Doctor Malloy Read Online Free Page B

lie there, listening to the traffic outside, sensing the intrusion of dusk.
    They arrive at the pub at the allotted time. In the lounge a wake has reached that stage where the fiddler becomes melancholic, when black ties and jackets are tossed across chairs. There is a lull in proceedings; pints of Guinness remain momentarily full, untouched on the counter. The calm before the storm. Men slump on barstools, groups converse around tables, there’s the occasional outburst of incoherent rage and sorrow. They are ushered through the main lounge bar, past the empty stage, down a dingy corridor with doors marked ‘Private’ on either side. The hallway leads to a brightly lit room. Through the half-opened stained-glass door, Caitlin sees the outline of a man standing against the mantelpiece. As they enter the room she realizes she has already met him at several weekend training camps in the foothills of Wicklow. She hadn’t much cared for him then and has a strong feeling she is unlikely to change her opinion now.
    â€˜Sit down,’ says the man, pointing to two cushioned seats next to a small round table. For a moment or two he remains standing by the tiled fireplace, as if in deep reflection, concentrating on the smoke rising from his burning cigarette. Then he turns and sits down on the seat opposite them.
    â€˜Take a drink,’ he says, pouring whiskey into two tumblers, pushing them across the table towards them. He looks long and hard at Sammy, then focuses on Caitlin. ‘A job well done. Good job.’ He pauses, draws on his cigarette, then looks a bit pained. ‘There’s one little problem we need to discuss. About the two of you. It seems you worked somewhat more closely than the job required, am I right?’
    Sammy looks at Caitlin, sensing the aggression.
    â€˜He goes everywhere with you these days, so I’m told,’ says the man, nodding to Sammy.
    Caitlin returns Sammy’s glance, putting her hand over his.
    â€˜That’s right,’ she says, with defiance. ‘We’re to get married once we sort all this out. Get on with the rest of our lives and all that.’
    Liam, for Caitlin remembers this is the big man’s name, says nothing. He shifts slightly in his seat, lights another cigarette: an untipped Players, like her dad used to smoke. He inhales deeply. In the silence the fiddle from the bar intrudes.
    Caitlin feels a sadness come over her. A sadness for herself. For the person she was. The person who cared for others. Risked all for others. For their causes. And now when she wants something of her own, a life of her own, a man of her own, she senses it slipping away. A man she doesn’t recognize enters the room. He is even larger than Liam, almost filling the doorway where he stands, silently, arms crossed, face fixed, the brim of his hat casting a shadow across his eyes.
    â€˜So, say what you need to say.’ Liam breaks the silence. ‘No one can hear us. We’re alone.’ He looks up at the other man, who gently pulls the door closed. ‘This is our pub, our business.’
    â€˜It’s really quite simple,’ begins Caitlin, her voice faltering. ‘I want out. I want out of all this. I’ve …’ she looks at Sammy and some strength returns. ‘We’ve had enough. I want to get a life. All the normal things. No more hiding away from everyone and living half-truths. I feel kept and I’ve just had too much of it all.’ She pauses, measuring her words, as if her life depends on what she might say next. ‘I’ve done my duty. As much as any other and more … I have done my duty. Served my time, my dues, and now I want out. I want other things.’
    She looks to Sammy, for support, for solace, for reassurance that the past can be left behind.
    â€˜What she says,’ he stutters, ‘is real … we’re together … in this …’
    â€˜Shut your ignorant, spineless