But at Ashling’s suspicious expression he backed off. ‘Ehm, fine, I’ll just leave you to it then. Hope you feel better. See you on Monday.’

After he’d gone Ted and Joy appeared in the living-room.

‘What’s in the bag?’

‘Sushi.’

‘Sushi! That’s a weird thing to bring.’

They circled the white paper bag warily, as if it was radioactive.

‘Will we take a look?’ Ted eventually asked.

At Ashling’s, ‘’f you want,’ he slid out the lacquered black box and stared, fascinated, at the little rice rolls arrayed in pretty ranks.

‘I didn’t think it would look like this,’ Joy remarked.

‘And what are all these other things?’ Ted poked at a silver sachet.

‘Soy sauce,’ Ashling said uninterestedly.

‘And this?’ Ted peeled the lid off a short styrofoam container.

‘Pickled ginger.’

‘And this?’ He indicated a mound of green putty.

‘I forget what it’s called,’ Ashling admitted sullenly, ‘but it’s hot.’

After more time was spent in cautious exploration, Ted took the bull by the horns. ‘I’m going to try some.’

Ashling shrugged.

‘This looks like a cucumber one.’ He popped it into his mouth. ‘Now I’ll cleanse my palate with a slice of ginger, then I’ll –’

‘That’s not how you do it,’ Ashling said irritably.

‘Well, show me then.’

58

The gentle knock on her window made Clodagh jump to her feet. Happiness flooded through her. He was here. She flew to the front-door and opened it quietly.

‘The cock crows at dusk,’ Marcus said in a thick Russian accent.

‘Sssshhh.’ She put her finger to her lips in an exaggerated gesture but they were both bubbling over with laughter and delight.

‘Are they asleep?’ Marcus whispered.

‘They’re asleep.’

‘Halleluiah!’ He almost forgot the need for quiet. ‘Now I can have my wicked way with you.’ He stepped into the hall, grabbed her and, both of them giggling and bumping against the coat-stand, he began to remove her clothes.

‘Come into the front-room,’ she invited.

‘I want to do it here,’ he said wickedly. ‘On the Wellingtons and the schoolbags.’

‘Tough, you can’t!’ She went into convulsions at his fake-sulky face. ‘You look like Craig.’

He thrust his bottom lip out further and she laughed even more.

‘But seriously,’ she whispered, ‘what if one of them gets out of bed to go to the bathroom and sees us in the throes on the hall floor? Go on, into the front-room with you!’

Obediently, he picked up his shirt and followed her in. ‘It reminds me of being a teenager, all this sneaking around. Kinda sexy.’

Dylan had terrified Clodagh with his threats about custody, so she was determined that Molly and Craig wouldn’t see her in bed with Marcus. But this week Marcus was very busy at work, so daytime sex was out. The only time they could hope to do it was when Molly and Craig were asleep. A daily period of approximately twenty minutes.

On the couch, they pulled the clothes from each other’s bodies and, in a brief pause to stare into each other’s eyes, Clodagh sighed up at him, ‘I’m so happy to see you.’

The five days since Dylan had left had been a strange, nightmarish time. Guilt was ripping her asunder, especially because the children kept asking when Daddy was coming home. She was increasingly isolated: even her own mother was furious with her. And she felt frighteningly out of control – appalled at the destruction that she had unleashed.

The only time the horror let up was when she was with Marcus. He was a diamond in the rubbish tip of her life. She’d read that phrase somewhere – in the novel where the woman opens a second-hand designer-clothing shop – and it had leapt out at her.

‘Not as happy as I am to see you.’ Marcus scanned her naked body, then placed his hands under her and turned her on her stomach. Before he entered her he waited a moment, almost reverently. It was nearly a week since they’d actually had sex. There hadn’t been a hope of it on Saturday afternoon. After Craig had hit Marcus with the red truck, he wouldn’t let him within three feet of Clodagh.

‘Come on,’ Clodagh implored, her voice muffled.

Marcus worked himself once, twice with his hand, then positioned himself accurately at her entrance. Nothing could beat the first thrust into her. Because their time together had always been short there was a fired-up violence to their sex: he liked to get all the way to the hilt on the first go, shoving through that semi-resistant yielding, straight into head-lifting ecstacy. And if he could elicit from Clodagh a stifled gasp that was midway between pleasure and pain, it spurred him even more.

But this time his long, perfect stroke was halted about halfway when Clodagh tensed, semi-sat up and hissed, ‘Ssshh.’ She turned her head to the ceiling and froze. ‘I thought I heard… No,’ she relaxed again. ‘I must have been imagining it.’

He got all the way in on the second go, but couldn’t help feeling he’d been deprived of something. After a short, furious shag, they had another slightly less frantic one with her on top.

Dipping with sweat she lay on him and murmured, ‘You make me happy.’

‘You make me happy too,’ he replied. ‘But do you know what would make me even happier? Going upstairs to bed. This couch is doing my back in.’

‘We shouldn’t really. What if they see you?’

‘You could lock the bedroom door. Come on,’ he grinned, ‘I’m not finished with you yet tonight.’

‘Yes, but… Oh, OK, but you can’t stay the night. Deal?’

‘Deal’

Dr McDevitt was alarmed by the woman marching into his surgery and demanding Prozac with menaces. ‘And we’re not leaving without it!’

‘Mrs –’ he consulted his appointment sheet, ‘Ah, Kennedy, I can’t just go handing out prescriptions…’

‘Call me Monica, and it’s not for me, it’s for my daughter.’ Monica directed his attention to Ashling.

‘Oh Ashling, I didn’t see you there. What’s up?’ He liked Ashling.