Heathen/Nemesis

Forty-Three

Donna left the hazard lights of the Volvo flashing as she hurried up the steps towards the main entrance of the Dublin National Gallery. As she reached them she glanced back at the hire car, knowing that she couldn’t leave it there for long. She hoped Mahoney would be ready to go.

She’d called Julie that morning to make sure she was all right, and that there had been no more trouble. Julie had told her she was fine. Donna, satisfied that her sister was well, asked the hotel to get her a hire car for the next couple of days. The Volvo had arrived less than twenty minutes later.

Now she reached the main doors and walked in, eyes flicking over the sea of faces in search of Mahoney.

He had told her a lot the previous night, too much for her to take in, but the salient points stuck out clearly in her mind. She had sat up that night in her room, sitting on the bed scribbling notes on one of the Shelbourne’s notepads. She’d finally drifted off to sleep at about two, woken an hour later feeling cold and slipped under the covers, resting fitfully until room service brought her breakfast at eight.

She moved through the gallery quickly, looking for Mahoney but unable to find him. Finally she returned to the information desk where she’d first encountered him the previous day, and found a pretty young woman sitting there stacking up guide books on Dublin.

‘I’m supposed to be meeting Gordon Mahoney here at eleven,’ Donna said.

‘He’ll be back in a minute,’ the young woman told her, still stacking.

Donna glanced agitatedly at her watch and walked to the main doors, trying to see the Volvo parked in the street beyond.

When she turned again she saw Mahoney approaching the desk. Donna smiled and approached him.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

He looked at her blankly.

‘Can I help you?’ he said flatly, his gaze barely meeting hers.

‘Gordon, it’s eleven o’clock. I’ve got the car outside. Come on.’

The girl stacking the guide books looked at both of them but said nothing.

‘I can’t go,’ he said sharply. ‘I’m working.’

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Donna demanded, irritated by his coldness.

‘I’m busy.’ He reached for a sheet of paper, picked up a pen and began writing.

‘Was it something I said, last night?’ she wanted to know. ‘Why are you acting like this?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She could hear a note of disinterest in his voice, but something else too.

Fear?

‘I’ve got work to do if you don’t mind. I’m sorry,’ he told her and continued writing.

The girl finished stacking the guide books and slipped out from behind the desk.

‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she said.

‘Gordon, tell me what’s wrong? Why are you doing this?’ Donna said through clenched teeth.

Mahoney looked directly at her, his eyes blazing.

‘Get out of here now,’ he snarled. ‘Leave me alone.’

Donna held his gaze, her own anger boiling.

‘Get the fuck away from me,’ he said vehemently. Then he looked around quickly. ‘Get away from me, get away from this place, get away from Dublin.’

Donna frowned, opened her mouth to say something but was cut short.

‘Go. Go now,’ he said, still not looking at her. ‘What do I have to say?’

She turned and walked briskly away from the desk, out of the main entrance and down the steps back to the car. She slid behind the wheel and started the engine, pulling away so sharply she caused the car behind to sound his horn as he braked to avoid her. Her mind still racing, she glanced down at the map on the passenger seat and then headed towards the road that would take her to Mountpelier Lodge.