have dozed off and when I came to, I called his name but he was nowhere to be seen. The door was wide open as the wind
came blowing in from the mountain. He didn't arrive back until the following morning. I had no idea where he'd been and he
didn't offer any explanation.
Acting as if nothing at all had happened.
The Innocent: A Nation Mourns
The Lonely Death of Michael Gallagher
What the papers had reported, no one could have imagined, not in their worst nightmares.
The Independent photograph, particularly, painted the ghastliest of melancholic scenes, a dismal shot of blacks and slate-greys, with the
blurred pines beyond the factory possessing a deeply sinister aspect.
Whenever I read about it, deeply familiar but unwelcome feelings would return once more to torment me and I'd see him standing
there, looking out of the dark.
—Something dreadful is going to happen, Redmond, and when it does, believe me — you'll know!
I eventually came to see, however, by simply concentrating, just how absurd it had all been.
The man was dead, for heaven's sake - hadn't he hung himself?
In a prison shower of all places. The evidence was there in black and white. Of course it was. It was hard not to laugh. In
the end I became embarrassed, actually, that I had ever given it any credence. He hadn't even been there. In the bed or in the landing or anywhere else. Such are the unfortunate by-products of emotional trouble, I told myself. It
got to the stage in the end where I had almost completely forgotten the whole ridiculous episode.
I was a new man, truly, and it really was wonderful. I hadn't undergone anything like the old stress in months. So that, I
remember thinking, I probably wouldn't have been able to describe such a condition if I'd been asked to. I was moving closer
to a state of complete contentment. Very at ease with myself indeed.
Which was the way, I knew, things were destined to stay. Those were the thoughts which were going through my head as Immy
and I drove onwards towards winterwood. When I pulled up at some lights, it seemed like I'd been waiting for ages for them
to change. And it was at that point I smelt it, the heart-sinking sodden dampness. You hear of people saying the blood just 'drained from his face'. But you rarely, if ever, witness it happen. I caught a glimpse
of my face in the mirror and I'm not exaggerating when I baldly state it was the colour of death.
I didn't have to turn. I knew he was there. His leering eyes staring from the window where he was parked. He looked like he'd
been drinking for days. Suddenly he shot forward as the lights turned to green.
—Soon, Redmond, soon, I heard him say.
I know I ought never to have stopped in Blanchardstown it almost ruined things. But I couldn't stop thinking about Sweet Valley High, which Imogen had been watching instead of Pony. It unsettled me so much because I hadn't been expecting it. Which was why I reacted as soon as I saw the restaurant, rising
up out of nowhere, just appearing through the haze of rain: Deep Pan Pizza.
—Who's for salami and who's for pineapple? I could hear Catherine crying.
Slumped in the back seat, poor Imogen was moaning. She'd been asking me for something, but what with all that happening I
couldn't focus on what it was. I think she was saying her mouth was dry - and it upset me. But I never intended to shout at
her. There is only one reason why I spoke harshly to Immy, and three words explain it - Piper fucking Alpha. He was the reason
I snapped at my daughter:
—Shut up, Immy! Do you hear me now!
It had happened as soon as I returned to the car. It was stress, that was all. The only other time in my life I had ever spoken
to my daughter like that was the time she had spilt the paint over herself, in Kilburn. She had been playing with some poster
paints and went and got her clothes covered in them. Things hadn't been going well that week, either, you see. I'd had three
articles
came blowing in from the mountain. He didn't arrive back until the following morning. I had no idea where he'd been and he
didn't offer any explanation.
Acting as if nothing at all had happened.
The Innocent: A Nation Mourns
The Lonely Death of Michael Gallagher
What the papers had reported, no one could have imagined, not in their worst nightmares.
The Independent photograph, particularly, painted the ghastliest of melancholic scenes, a dismal shot of blacks and slate-greys, with the
blurred pines beyond the factory possessing a deeply sinister aspect.
Whenever I read about it, deeply familiar but unwelcome feelings would return once more to torment me and I'd see him standing
there, looking out of the dark.
—Something dreadful is going to happen, Redmond, and when it does, believe me — you'll know!
I eventually came to see, however, by simply concentrating, just how absurd it had all been.
The man was dead, for heaven's sake - hadn't he hung himself?
In a prison shower of all places. The evidence was there in black and white. Of course it was. It was hard not to laugh. In
the end I became embarrassed, actually, that I had ever given it any credence. He hadn't even been there. In the bed or in the landing or anywhere else. Such are the unfortunate by-products of emotional trouble, I told myself. It
got to the stage in the end where I had almost completely forgotten the whole ridiculous episode.
I was a new man, truly, and it really was wonderful. I hadn't undergone anything like the old stress in months. So that, I
remember thinking, I probably wouldn't have been able to describe such a condition if I'd been asked to. I was moving closer
to a state of complete contentment. Very at ease with myself indeed.
Which was the way, I knew, things were destined to stay. Those were the thoughts which were going through my head as Immy
and I drove onwards towards winterwood. When I pulled up at some lights, it seemed like I'd been waiting for ages for them
to change. And it was at that point I smelt it, the heart-sinking sodden dampness. You hear of people saying the blood just 'drained from his face'. But you rarely, if ever, witness it happen. I caught a glimpse
of my face in the mirror and I'm not exaggerating when I baldly state it was the colour of death.
I didn't have to turn. I knew he was there. His leering eyes staring from the window where he was parked. He looked like he'd
been drinking for days. Suddenly he shot forward as the lights turned to green.
—Soon, Redmond, soon, I heard him say.
I know I ought never to have stopped in Blanchardstown it almost ruined things. But I couldn't stop thinking about Sweet Valley High, which Imogen had been watching instead of Pony. It unsettled me so much because I hadn't been expecting it. Which was why I reacted as soon as I saw the restaurant, rising
up out of nowhere, just appearing through the haze of rain: Deep Pan Pizza.
—Who's for salami and who's for pineapple? I could hear Catherine crying.
Slumped in the back seat, poor Imogen was moaning. She'd been asking me for something, but what with all that happening I
couldn't focus on what it was. I think she was saying her mouth was dry - and it upset me. But I never intended to shout at
her. There is only one reason why I spoke harshly to Immy, and three words explain it - Piper fucking Alpha. He was the reason
I snapped at my daughter:
—Shut up, Immy! Do you hear me now!
It had happened as soon as I returned to the car. It was stress, that was all. The only other time in my life I had ever spoken
to my daughter like that was the time she had spilt the paint over herself, in Kilburn. She had been playing with some poster
paints and went and got her clothes covered in them. Things hadn't been going well that week, either, you see. I'd had three
articles
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