"I'll tell Carl," Ania said.

"I'll tell Bobby," Declan said.

By the time Clara got back, Hilary had spoken to the Guards who were called to investigate the incident and told them in her clear voice how Rosemary Walsh had walked directly into the ladder and caused the accident.

"And why did she not see the ladder?" the young policeman asked.

"She was in a stressed condition," Hilary said diplomatically.

"Where's Declan now?" Clara wanted to know.

"Out in the leafy suburbs, breaking the news to Bobby"

"And why didn't Fiona go with him? I saw her as I came in."

"Search me, Clara. I don't think all is well in that area. I have a feeling that you and I will be wearing our new gear to our own children's wedding sooner than giving it an outing for Declan and Fiona's big day."

"Yes, I think you're right. Pity. They are so suited. And I imagine it means we'll lose Fiona."

"But why?" Hilary asked. "Declan will be going anyway. His time here is nearly up."

"Fiona won't want to hang around. Not if it's all over. She'll move on somewhere."

"I wonder what it's all about?" Hilary said.

"Something utterly unimportant. These things usually are. We'll never know," Clara said with a sigh.

"Bobby, it's just Declan Carroll."

"Declan, how good to see you. How did you get in?" Bobby was in his little bed-sitting room.

"I let myself in. I'll sit down here beside you."

Declan had in fact taken Rosemary's keys from her handbag.

"Rosemary left the door open? That's so unlike her." Bobby was distressed.

"No, no." Declan was soothing.

"Let me get you a cup of tea." Bobby was always the polite host.

"Let me make it. I make great tea." He made them a mug each with a lot of sugar.

"I don't really take sugar," Bobby began.

"You do today, Bobby. Rosemary had a bit of an accident. She's perfectly fine now, but she'll be in hospital for a while. Ania and Carl want you to go and stay in their flat. I'm to take you there now. Believe me, Bobby, she's going to be fine. I'll take you to see her. Please, Bobby, drink your tea."

Bobby's face was drained of color. His questions came tumbling out.

"Oh, poor Rosemary. Where did it happen? Was she in the car?"

"No, nothing like that. She was walking down a corridor and she b.u.mped into a ladder and a great plank and tins of paint and two men who were painting all fell down."

"And how was she hurt?"

"A lot of grazes and scratches. And she's a broken arm and a broken leg."

"No!"

"But it's all under control. She has a great young surgeon and she'll be going into theater tomorrow."

"Rosemary in an operating theater. She must be so frightened."

"She's sedated. She's very calm."

"And does she know you've come to see me?"

"I told her, but she may not have taken it in," Declan said. "Bobby, can you direct me? I'll pack a bag for you and we can meet Carl and Ania at the hospital."

"Carl is coming to the hospital? To see her?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Oh, she will be pleased. They had a silly misunderstanding, you know."

"People have forgotten all about that," Declan said cheerfully.

Just as well Bobby didn't know what an uphill struggle Ania was having asking Carl to go and see his mother. He was resisting it as hard as he could.

Fiona was sitting in a bar looking out over Dublin Bay. It was so beautiful.

Declan used to say that they were so lucky to live in Dublin: a big, roaring city and then the sea only ten minutes away and the mountains twenty minutes in the other direction. She noticed that she was thinking Declan used used to say. After next week it really would be the past. She looked up as a shadow fell across the table. to say. After next week it really would be the past. She looked up as a shadow fell across the table.

"Barbara, what on earth are you doing here?"

"Once upon a time it was 'Oh, Barbara, isn't that great. Sit down and have a drink.'"

"We're ten miles from Dublin. You're not here by coincidence."

"You're right. I'm not. I followed you."

"You what?"

"Yes, I followed you. You don't come home to our flat. You don't talk at work. You're not at your mother and father's house. You're not up at the Carrolls' house. Am I not ent.i.tled to know where my friend is going and what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Yeah?"

"No, seriously, Barbara, that's not fair. You're worse than any of them. Can't you understand that I just want some time by myself?"

"No, I can't."

"Well, you should learn. That's what people want from friends. They want support and understanding. Not a load of detective work and following people out on trains."

"Tell me, Fiona."

"No, I won't. I can't."

"Why can't you? We used to tell each other everything. I told you about the first time I ever went to bed with a fellow and he was so appalled by all the safety pins in my underwear it nearly turned him off. And you were great. You understood."

"I know, but this is different."

"And you told me about Shane and I understood. Why can't I understand now?"

"It's about Shane. It's all about b.l.o.o.d.y Shane."

"But he's dead, dead, Fiona. You must know he's dead." Fiona. You must know he's dead."

"How did you did you know?" know?"

"I saw it in the paper."

"And you said nothing to me?"

"I waited for you to say something to me and you didn't, so I thought you just didn't want it mentioned."

"I felt nothing about him when I heard. I was the one who identified him to the Guards."

"You actually went to see his body? Oh, my G.o.d!" Barbara was shocked.

"No, I phoned the Guards."

"And what did you feel?"

"Nothing. Nothing for him. I didn't care if he lived or died."

Barbara's kind face was stricken.

"Oh, sit down, Barbara. For G.o.d's sake, sit down and have an Irish coffee."

"I haven't had an Irish coffee in weeks. Remember the kingfisher-blue dress, a size too small."

"Forget the b.l.o.o.d.y kingfisher-blue dress. There isn't going to be a wedding."

"Then I'd like a large brandy," Barbara said.

"Mother?"

"Is that you, Carl?"

"Yes, Mother. You're going to be fine."

"I'm sorry, Carl."

"What for, Mother? It was all an accident."

"Yes. I'm sorry for not just dying there and then and leaving you all to get on with your lives normally."

"Mother, you're going to be fine, and we are all delighted that it wasn't too serious."

"I'm sorry for what I said."

"We all say things we don't mean." He patted her arm.

"I didn't wish to be hurtful," she said.

"Neither did I, Mother."

Rosemary closed her eyes. Carl left the room.

Outside the open door his father sat in a wheelchair pushed by Ania.

"Thank you, son," Bobby said, with tears in his eyes.

"No, Dad, it's the truth. We all do do say things we don't mean," Carl said. But his face was cold. They all knew that Rosemary Walsh had meant exactly what she said. say things we don't mean," Carl said. But his face was cold. They all knew that Rosemary Walsh had meant exactly what she said.

Declan was cleaning his shoes in the kitchen at St. Jarlaths Crescent.

"Mam, will I do your shoes for you? I'm doing my own."

"No, Declan, but you could do something for me?"

"What is it, Mam?"

"Could you tell me what's wrong between you and Fiona?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong?"

"She came back here the other night with Dimples. She'd walked about ten miles around Dublin and back and she had been crying her eyes out."

"And did you ask her why?"

"I didn't like to. I thought you and she might have had a row."