‘They say … they say the things parents say.’
‘And did you tell them about what you’ve come to talk to me about today?’
‘No.’
‘Well, as much as this Secret ServiceMission: Impossiblestuff is becomin’ a bit of a thing, I do think you need to talk to them about this one.’
‘I will, you know, if down the line …’
‘Aye, if … down the line …’
We smiled at each other.
‘If down the line I come and work for you, Mr Feeney.’
‘Withme, Brendan. With. That would be my only stipulation.’
We both sat forward and he reached his big hand across the desk and I stretched mine forward to meet it. We shook steady and strong.
‘You know I’m still insistin’ you take the rest of the summer off, though, don’t you? That still stands.’
‘I do. And you know what? I never thought I’d say this but I think I need the break, I need the time. Except …’
He put his head down and looked at me with suspicion.
‘Except?’
‘Before I leave, could I do just one thing?’
Mr Feeney raised his head. I got the feeling he knew what I wanted.
––
Two hours later I was in Feeney’s yard having just rolled up the hose and put it back in the garage along with all the other equipment. I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I stepped back and put my hands on my hips.
The hearse gleamed in front of me. I stared into the black of it and everything else around it seemed a little bit brighter.
58
I was staring at the McCoys’ front door with the added extension for Ronan’s wheelchair for I don’t know how long before my fist made its way to knocking. Mr McCoy answered.
‘Brendan, the man himself, come on ahead in.’
I stepped inside and as soon as I looked down the hallway my eyes shut tight.
‘Emma’s in the kitchen there,’ Mr McCoy said and my eyes shot open again. ‘You alright, Brendan?’
‘Yeah, Mr McCoy,’ I said, staring down the dark hallway. ‘I’m OK.’
Mrs McCoy was standing in front of the kettle that had just come to the boil.
‘Brendan, good to see you, come here,’ she said, moving in for a hug, and I met her halfway. ‘How are you?’ she said as we let go.
‘I’m OK,’ I said, looking around the kitchen, noticing the schedule for Ronan’s routine was no longer up on the wall. The dining table was in a different position and things looked a bit more sparse in general.
‘We’ve done a bit of rearranging,’ said Mrs McCoy.
‘The hoarder has become the declutter queen,’ said Mr McCoy.
