CHAPTER NINE

Joe stopped talking. “What time is it?”

Marty checked the battered old watch clinging to his wrist with a piece of blue ribbon. “It’s twenty to eleven. Why?”

“Because I have to try and catch that boat back to Dublin. I’m not sure how I’m going to do it. But I’ll try.”

“Why do you want to go back if you don’t love her?”

“What’s the point of staying here?”

“Well, you seem to like it here. Am I right?”

“I feel good sitting here right now. I didn’t an hour ago. But I don’t think that feeling will last much longer.”

“Why do you enjoy sitting here?”

Joe thought about the question. “You’re good company, some of the time.”

“And the rest of the time?”

“You annoy me because you’re right.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Joe. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. But sometimes I’m afraid to do the things I’d really love to do.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid of ending up on my own for the rest of my life. I don’t want to be lonely.”

“You can be married with children, Joe, and still be the loneliest man in the world.”

“So how can I avoid being lonely?”

“That’s entirely up to you, Joe. It’s all about realising that other people in your life are entitled to be treated the way you’d want them to treat you. Always do that and you’ll never be lonely.”

“I can’t walk around dressed as Superman for the rest of my life. I have a business back in Dublin that needs me. And I have friends back there.”

“Are they the same friends who poured you onto the car ferry last night?”

“I suppose so.”

Marty hooted. “They don’t sound like decent friends to me.”

“They’re OK. They just got carried away, I suppose. We all had too much to drink.”

“But they all seem to have got home safely. Yet you’re here on the other side of the Irish Sea.” Marty scanned the cliff-top and the small park around them. “I don’t see them coming looking for you to make sure you didn’t fall overboard last night, or that you didn’t die of the cold sleeping on this park bench in the early hours of the morning.” Marty observed Joe for a moment. “Do you trust these so-called friends?”

“Not really,” replied Joe.

“Well then, why do you hang around with them?”

Joe thought about the question. “I’ve never really given it much thought, I suppose.”

“Do you ever feel lonely, Joe?”

“Do you?”

Marty shrugged. “Not really. I’ve had a good life. I have a few good friends. It’s taken me a long time to find them. But at least now I know they’ll be my friends forever, and I’ll be theirs. It takes a heck of a long time to find a good friend. Would you agree?”

“Yeah.”

“And another thing, get to like your own company. Don’t be afraid of being on your own. Sometimes there’s nothing I like better than talking to myself.”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Why do you hate your parents so much, Joe?”

“Because they never loved me.”

“Did they tell you that?”

“No. But they never told me they loved me either.”

“Have you ever tried to tell them that you love them?”

“Jesus, no! They’d collapse with the fright. I don’t think the word ‘love’ exists in their dictionary.”

“But surely they had to make love for you to be conceived?”

“Wrong. They had sex – a mechanical procedure whereby they followed a number of biological instructions and then they returned to their separate bedrooms.”

Marty looked sad. “I can see where you took a wrong turn, Joe. And it wasn’t your fault. Your parents really did bugger things up for you.”

Joe looked shocked. “Marty!” he shouted. “Bad language doesn’t suit you.”

Marty laughed. “If you can use it, so can I.”

By now, the two men were sitting close to each other.