Adam McGregor’s rage turned from hot to icy cold while he sat in his van in Dun Laoghaire. The engine was off, the air as cold as water from a well.
A dark form padded across the road, lit for a second by the glare of a streetlight. Adam only caught the briefest glimpse of it.
A fox, maybe?
He watched the creature disappear into a garden. Adam was in such a bad mood that he felt like jumping out of the van and tearing the creature to shreds with his bare hands.
The driver’s window was rolled all the way down.
He’d never felt so betrayed.
There had been Ruth, of course, but that was different.
The van was parked a few houses up from Izzy’s place. His phone calls to her had gone unanswered. He’d left a dozen voice messages too, but she hadn’t got back to him.
They were a couple, and she’d left him without a word of explanation. She couldn’t do that to him. He wouldn’t let her.
He’d arrived here in time to see her leave her aunt’s house. Obviously, she was up to something. Izzy had crossed the road, went a few doors down, and entered a neighbour’s place.
Adam had been about to take a closer look when another woman came along and entered the same house.
What were they up to?
Adam was only certain of one thing. Izzy had been planning to abandon him for some time, and these women were involved. They’d put her up to it, maybe. And now they were gathering to celebrate.
For a second, the coldness in his chest turned hot again, the skin on his face prickling feverishly.
He ought to slice them up. That would teach them not to mess with him.
Ten minutes after Izzy went into the house, he’d watched another woman arrive.
How many of these witches were there? It was like the coven was having some kind of party. And Adam felt bitterly that it was all at his expense.
After everything he’d done for Izzy, this was how she repaid him? By abandoning him at the first opportunity?
By mocking him?
He patted the faint shape of her passport in his jacket pocket. She was his. She just needed to be reminded of that fact.
*
Jimmy the barman pushed Gareth Gillen and Robert Murphy through the door of the pub onto the street. He’d sprung into action as soon as Robert smashed that beer bottle, breaking up the fight before things got more violent.
The cool night air hit Robert almost hard enough to sober him up, though of course he wasn’t drunk. He’d only had a couple of bottles of Corona, for god’s sake.
“And stay out,” Jimmy said.
Robert wheeled around.
“Wait up, Jimmy. I’m barred?”
“Yes, my dear Robert, you are.”
“How is that fair? Tom started it.”
“Your big mouth always causes trouble.”
Robert tried for a note of levity. “Actually, I think it was my big dick, not my big mouth, that caused trouble last time. You know, with the hand dryer?”
“You’re not funny.” Jimmy scowled. “I should have barred you years ago.”
“Come on.”
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
The barman disappeared back inside, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Robert walked over to Gareth, who had taken a few steps away. “Where should we go for our next drink—?”
“I’m going home.”
“Are you kidding me?” Robert looked around. The main street was deserted, dark and the ground was wet. He felt very alone, all of a sudden. “You’re going to ditch me?”
“I have work in the morning.”
“So do I.”
Gareth snorted a laugh. “I have to get up in front of a room full of teenagers.”
“Oh, I see.” Robert nodded to himself. “I’m just a humble train driver, but you’re a teacher. You have a noble calling.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“This is why we stopped hanging around.”
“What are you talking about?”
Robert jabbed Gareth’s chest with his index finger. “You think you’re better than me.”
“I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do, you arrogant bastard. That’s why you got so annoyed when you couldn’t define that word, when Tom asked. What was it? Oh, yeah. Until.”
Gareth’s eyes narrowed. “I think you’re the one who got annoyed, and I didn’t hear you come up with a definition either.”
“Of course not. I’m a train driver, not a brainiac like you.”
“Robert, go home and take it easy.”
“How can I? The whole book club is at my place. Your girlfriend is at my place. My wife is at my place. I’ve been kicked out of my own home.”
“Is Kate there?”
“I guess so. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
The way Gareth said it made Robert suspicious. He was holding something back. Did he have a crush on Kate?
“Do you want her?” Robert asked.
“Who, Kate?”
“Duh. I don’t mean J-Lo. Of course, Kate. You’re very curious about her.”
“God, no.”
“Huh,” Robert said.
“You should go home,” Gareth said. “It’s your house too.”
“Screw that. Let’s go for a pint somewhere.”
“Sorry.” Gareth was already crossing the street. His dampened footfalls echoed off the buildings. “Another time, Robert. The drinks will be on me.”
He turned slightly, waved goodbye, and hurried on down the side street. Off to his fancy house paid for by his rich lawyer girlfriend.
Gareth had been right about one thing, though. Robert should be able to stay in his own house instead of getting kicked out on the street.
He walked towards the church. He began to feel angrier as he went, thinking of all the injustices he’d suffered.
He only snapped out of it when he stepped into a puddle. Freezing water drenched his shoes and socks, making him gasp.
His angry shout carried down the dark street.