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  Shade ground her teeth while letting her frustration out in an email response. When she finished, her finger hovered over the send button. Instead she deleted it all and replaced it with. ‘Would you mind taking down those images?’ Most of his pictures were of him in different parts of the world. Usually with various women as part of his job. “One of the perks”, as she remembers him telling it.

  He was online and responded immediately. ‘It’s all right sweetie. I’m not posting any of your travel pics; you still own the copyright to those. I’m doing a few shoots for clients in Portugal next month. Care to tick another country off your list with me?’

  Who says sweetie? Are you trying to use all the dirtbag clichés?

  Shade could imagine he had a different kind of list in mind and she was on it, if only for the sole purpose of being crossed off it.

  Shade squeezed the phone so tight that her knuckles went white.

  Diarmuid knocked as he let himself back in. She noticed that he had made an effort to fix his hair but the wind ruined it.

  “Did you brush your teeth too?” she asked as he sat down beside her.

  Diarmuid closed his mouth tight and mumbled from the corner, “Maybe.”

  “Suppose it is good to be ever conscious of dental hygiene.”

  He shrugged, pouring them more wine.

  “Does toothpaste pair well with this?”

  “Is something wrong? I can take a good piss-take with the best of them but your tone’s off. I don’t know if you’re mad at me or just haven’t got the hang of it yet?”

  Tension was building up, pressure pressing against her skull. I should call it a night. “I have a splitting headache.”

  Diarmuid sat back in the far corner and put a pillow in his lap. “Lie down.”

  She did, sticking her feet out over the armrest. Nip sniffed her toes with a wet and cold nose. Diarmuid started running his fingers through her hair. The awkwardness of the situation was a while in passing. She closed her eyes. Diarmuid’s movements seemed to keep some time with the music.

  Her breathing relaxed and she forced herself into the rhythm of slow long breaths. “This piece is beautiful, who is it by?”

  “Ludovico Einaudi.”

  She opened an eye to peek at him. He did not miss it and smiled back. She closed her eye again, struggling to master the muscles of her own that were forming into a smile.

  His hands traced the outline of her face, gentle fingertips whispering across the fine hairs on her skin. Her breathing quickened.

  A finger on both hands glided across her eyelashes, a glissando, sending thrills through her insides. Her mouth was dry but she could not sit up to take a sip of wine. I’ve already had enough. It felt as if her heart had lodged in her throat.

  “Did you put cologne on?” Shade asked, using it as an excuse to cough in an attempt to clear her throat. She swallowed hard.

  “A little bit.”

  His fingers crossed her cheeks. Sculpted up the ridge of her nose as if he were impressing the mould of her face into his memory. He cannot miss the affect he is having on me. Good. The back of his hand fell down her neck, his other hand tucked stray hairs behind her ear.

  He won’t go further. There was no immediacy to his movements. Is that intentional? Is he teasing me? Shade hated to admit that, whether he was or not, it was working.

  She put her hand on the back of his and tried to open her eyes but they felt too heavy with the prospect of having to look into his.

  He turned her hand over and pressed the notes of the song playing into her skin. Shade’s heartbeat had long rushed ahead of the tempo. She opened her eyes, placed a hand behind his neck, lifting herself up while pulling him down towards her. Inches from him, she stared into his eyes. She closed hers again before the courage left her. Diarmuid wrapped his arms around her back. They kissed.

  Shade felt a jolt as his lips fit against hers, the heat of his breath against her cheek and the touch of his hand against the side of her neck.

  When they came apart Diarmuid blinked his eyes back into focus, his cheeks flushed. “Bet you’re glad I brushed my teeth now.”

  “Kiss me and shut up.”

  By nightfall the place was a mess. Dirty plates and cutlery, empty wine glasses and stained coffee mugs piled on top of the coffee table. All that remained of their fire was a few white coals that occasionally let off pops and sparks. What would be really romantic would be if he stayed to help me clean tomorrow. She lit candles and placed them around the fireplace, then sat back on the rug beside him. She rested against his shoulder and he continued kissing the top of her head. He covered her with a blanket. A dim pulse of light shone through the room every few seconds from the passing beam of the light house.

  “Tell me something,” Shade asked.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Give me a truth.”

  Diarmuid made to lean in and kiss her but she pulled away. “You can get away with that once, not twice.”

  He smiled. “You’ve no way of telling if it’s not a lie.”

  “I can see how this is going to be an issue.”

  “Okay.” He sat up and thought about it for a moment. “I’ve followed your career for a while Shade. I’m a big fan. Finally got ahead of you, assimilated myself into your life … Shade, are you okay?”

  She had gone pale.

  “Here, I was only joking.”

  She gave him a stern look and stood up away from him.

  “Genuinely,” he said, the concern on his face gave the comment some sincerity.

  “I know you are. I have measures in place to make sure I stay ahead of the weirdos. You struck a nerve, is all. I don’t usually post information or images from a place until at most two days before I know I’m leaving. Right now my readers only know that I’m in Ireland.”

  Diarmuid’s face dropped. He made to reach out to her but stopped himself. “I’m sorry.”

  Shade stretched, her back cracked and she let out a sigh of relief. “It’s all right, you had no way of knowing.” Hair still stood on end across her body.

  “There’s a story there.”

  “There are a few, but if I tell them we will be late for the play. Come on. Oh, and you owe me a proper truth after that.”

  CHAPTER 9: A CURIOUS MOON

  The road to the dún was lit by small candles that shone, hauntingly still, in open jars, saving them from the cutting wind. Shade looped her arm through the crook of Diarmuid’s and they followed the trail of light to the stage.

  “Look at that.” She halted them to stand and stare at the half-formed moon, a smooth iceberg that hovered on a dark horizon. It grew massive in the illusion created by the atmosphere. Clouds hurried out of the spotlight of its sight.

  “Would you like me to take your picture in front of it?” Diarmuid asked.

  Shades camera rarely left her neck. She reworked the exposure and other settings to try capture the moon. When she finished she handed it to him and looked away to face it with her arms outstretched.

  “Eh, here, turn around would you, so I can take your photo?”

  “Take it like this.”

  “But sure what do you want a picture of your back for? What good is that?”

  Shade turned to him, her tongue was pushing out the side of her cheek. “I know you well enough to guess you’re making fun of me right now. It’s for my social media accounts. It’s kind of my thing. When I turn my back to the camera it makes the shot more immersive, like I’m taking in a place. Makes me look like I’m part of the scene.”

  “Fair enough. If you want to look like a fashionable Cousin It from the Addams family in all your photos, that’s up to you. You know I’m not that daft when it comes to the likes of Instagram. I’m well aware it’s the norm for travel bloggers to post pictures in this fashion. With photos taken from behind – of the behind. Is the market not over saturated with arses?”

  “Take the picture, Island Boy. Oh, and for your information, I
was one of the first to start doing it.”

  “If you could trademark looking like a gobshite you’d be infringing on my rights.”

  Shade looked away from him and bit her tongue to stop from laughing. She jumped a little as Diarmuid’s arms wrapped around her waist. His head rested on her shoulder and they took in the moon together. His fingers laced together on her belly and he kissed her neck before ending the embrace.

  “Did you take the photo?” Shade asked

  “I took it before I started ripping the piss out of you.”

  “Would you like to be in one with me?”

  “I’m not confident that my savings would cover the cost of this camera if you made me hold it awkwardly to get the both of us.”

  Shade pulled a compact tripod from the side of her backpack. “Not a problem.”

  She set up the camera and used her phone as the capture button when they were both posed and ready. In the picture the both of them were shadows in front of the moon.

  “What do you think?” She asked, showing him the final picture.

  “I’d cherish a copy.”

  That’s the first time I’ve ever heard somebody use that word outside of Oliva’s wedding vows. She kissed his cheek. “Sure. Give me your contact details and I’ll send it right on.”

  “Well played, Miss Ass-Photographer.”

  “You are a gobshite.” When she kissed him his low laughter tickled her lips.

  There were torches and ushers in the fields they had to pass through to get to the stage. For the most part Shade managed to manoeuvre around the crusty cow patties. Diarmuid was trembling. It was brisk out, but not so cold to warrant his acting in such a way.

  “We should have kept the wine for after,” She said. “I’ve water in my bag. You’ll have some.” The kind act of offering made her feel less guilty about walking behind him, stepping where he did. He should go first, only one of us needs to get cow shit on their shoes. Besides, his shoes have higher rims than mine do, and he must know the path well.

  Most of the island must have been in attendance. Seats pointed towards a makeshift wooden stage. Once everybody found their seats, the lights went out, as did the chatter. The walls of the fortress drank in the darkness and wore it like a gown. Stars appeared as the first speckles of ice across a window pane, knotting together until the sky glistened with the old lonely light of other worlds.

  “How many millions of years do you think …” Diarmuid turned to the seat beside him and stopped talking. It was empty. Scanning the crowd, he thought he spotted Shade at the edge near the walls. Her outline was indistinguishable in the dark, but her tripods unmistakeable. When the crowd settled the only noise was the clapping from Shade’s camera shutter.

  Electric lamps on the stage turned on and Shade scurried back to Diarmuid, all apologies to the people she upset while passing. The actors entered to loud applause and she used that to rush to her seat.

  The first person she noticed on stage was the red-headed woman that sang and played music the previous night. “Diarmuid, that’s your friend from the pub isn’t it? The one that got us to dance last night?”

  Diarmuid nodded without taking his eyes from the stage.

  “Are you an actor too?”

  “I’d be doing a poor job of it sitting out here, don’t you think?” He nudged her in the side and placed his finger on his lips, she was starting to draw attention away from the stage.

  The entire event was surreal. Actors recounted the imagined lives and presumed histories of the dún and its wardens. It ended a few minutes after the cold started to make Shade restless. Diarmuid gave her his blanket; he had little choice when her teeth started chattering and she put her mouth beside his ear to guilt him into sharing it. Now that she had it, she was the guilty warm one.

  Part way through the performance Shade took out a hip flask of wine and passed it to Diarmuid. He stifled a laugh. “Never drinking again, eh?” he said, after taking a long pull from it.

  At the end of the performance Diarmuid’s clapping was the loudest in the crowd. Somebody tried to out-cheer him and lost. Shade did not fail to notice how he caught the eye of his red-headed friend, who upon seeing him smiled and bowed. As soon as the lights went on there was a frantic rush to get to the pub.

  “Everybody here is heading for drinks, Shade. If we dawdle then we’ll be out in the cold. Show no mercy in getting to the front. Kick a few shins if you must.”

  “The average age here is a little shy of that in a bingo hall,” she said, feigning indignation.

  “Do what you must,” he said in a grave tone.

  They rushed ahead of everybody else, laughing as their brisk walk became a jog. Many of the candles along the path had reached their end and, without the guides, people wandered off down different paths. The largest stream of people had damned up at the entrance to the pub. Shade insisted on buying the first round, leaving Diarmuid outside on a picnic bench. She snuck around the back entrance. It seemed that the few islanders that had not been at the play were in the pub.

  By the time she returned to Diarmuid the two pints she carried had lost enough drink from accidental pushing and shoving that if she poured the contents into one glass she might make a whole pint. Diarmuid was talking to the red-headed woman who was still in the dress from the play. Shade wondered if it was to garner as much attention as possible. She had not seen Diarmuid so animated in his speech before as he was while talking with this woman. She danced with them on the first night but was lost in the fray. Seeing them together now Shade did not mind that. She slowed down a bit to watch them. They shared a comfortable familiarity which made her speed up. She inserted herself into the conversation like a pin in a balloon.

  “Shade isn’t it?”

  Shade handed Diarmuid his half empty drink, dried her palm on her jeans and shook the woman’s offered hand. “Had I known you were here I would have bought you one.”

  The woman waved her off in the same fashion that Diarmuid would and it bothered her more than it should have.

  “Shade, this is Katie. She’s a friend from back home, but I’ve told her about our game and she’s been warned not to give anything away.”

  From the way Katie was standing close to him, Shade doubted this woman would be willing to part with anything that could bring Shade and Diarmuid closer.

  Diarmuid leaned his head back and zoned out of the conversation, leaving the two women alone.

  “That was some performance you put on,” Shade said.

  “I saw you taking pictures throughout.”

  Shade took a drink. “Happy to send them on to you if you’d like them. Enjoyed everything about it.”

  “What did you make of the writing?”

  “It was good.”

  “Good? I thought it a bit verbose and hyperbolic. What about you, Diarmuid?”

  Diarmuid looked down from space. “Huh?”

  “We were talking about the writing of the play.”

  Diarmuid shot her a look. “I tell you Katie, you’re wasted here. You’d shine in the pantomime.” He looked back up at the stars. “There’s another!”

  “What?” Shade asked.

  “I’m sitting here these last five minutes and I’ve spotted seven shooting stars already.”

  “There’s a shower forecast for tonight but the sky was supposed to be overcast,” Katie said, her tone disinterested.

  “Do you want to go look at them?” Diarmuid was already standing, suggesting he was going regardless. He finished the drink in a few gulps.

  “Sure you said you’ve already seen seven. I can guarantee the rest will look no different to those,” Katie said. “Come have a drink with us. Stay, don’t be going wandering off and the night only beginning.”

  “I want to go,” Shade said.

  “I’ll have a drink with youse another time, I’m going to grab a few bottles of beer. Shade, have you a preference?”

  “Whatever you’re getting for yourself, get me the same.” />
  He left the two of them standing there with a difficult silence to fill. Shade wondered if she could lean her head back to escape the situation as Diarmuid had.

  “So are you sure I can’t get any information about him out of you?” Shade asked.

  Katie’s lips fell into a straight line, an expression that conveyed a scowl without actually scowling. “Tell me about yourself Shade.”

  Shade took a sip from her glass and handed it to Katie so she could share a drink. Katie took it. Her expression afterwards was softer.

  “I’m doing a bit of travelling. Here for the week to explore and then off to London.”

  “Sounds like you’re always on the go.”

  “Part of the job. Can’t settle when I don’t know what’s over the horizon.” Stop quoting your blog.

  “Diarmuid mentioned you’re joining him for the concert tomorrow.”

  “Oh, you’re going too?”

  “No,” Katie said, somewhat coldly. “Heading over to the other islands with the rest of the group. We’re touring around Ireland so trying to see as much of the place as we can, in what little time we have.”

  “I can appreciate that. I’d love to visit all the islands of Ireland. I’m from Ireland – born here anyway – so it’s nice to be here.” Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  Katie’s eyebrows raised “You don’t sound it.”

  “I’ve lived most of my life on an island off the coast of New Zealand, not too dissimilar to this place. May be the reason why my sister tries to get out here every year. She gets a sense of home without having to spend over a day in the air on different planes to get back to the Chanthams. That trip leaves a massive dent in your wallet, too.” Stop rambling about yourself.

  “Why did you ever leave Ireland?”

  “I’m sorry Katie, I’ve said too much. Can’t have Diarmuid learning of me from you now! His game after all, I don’t want to spoil it.”

  “Yes, he is a bit of a romantic when he wants to be. Well, do you know what, Shade? It was nice meeting with you.” Oh, thank fuck that’s over. “Come here and let me introduce you to some of the cast. They’re dying to know who’s stolen him away.”