Brute Force

12

We rolled off the ramp and into a bright sharp day. Exhaust fumes misted the air.

'Who's Richard Isham?' Tallulah said. 'Should I know?'

'Not really. Another one of these Irish politicos who's desperate to show that he's a fully paid-up member of the Good Lads' Club.'

Ruby tapped me on the back. 'What's that say? I can't read those words.'

She was pointing at the big sign saying Welcome to Dun Laoghaire.

'It's how the Irish write Dun Leary. Rhymes with dreary, dearie.' I was rather pleased with that one.

Tallulah smiled. 'That your theory, O'Leary?'

'What's this game?' Ruby demanded.

'It's just finished. I can't think of any more rhymes. But do you like games?'

'Yeessss!'

'Good. You'll like Christmas Day then.'

'Why?'

'That would be telling.'

The 200-mile drive to Donegal should take four or five hours, which meant closer to six, once we'd factored in regular stops for Ruby to empty the walnut and Tallulah to stock up on copies of Irish Homes and Gardens. At least we'd hit the village before the shops closed, and that was the main thing. Otherwise we'd have to do our shopping on the way, and there was barely room in the back for a pint of milk, let alone food and drink for the week.

Tallulah had stayed in the back with Ruby, which meant I still had a pile of duvets for company. I'd hoped she'd sit up front with me for this leg. When people sit in the back, it's not long before they get fed up leaning forward and trying to involve the driver; he ends up fading into the background. But fuck it, this wasn't my party. These two were grieving and needed each other.

We followed signs to Dublin. I could have used the Merc's Gucci sat nav, but I thought it might register back at Avis HQ. I didn't want alarm bells ringing in Berkeley Square and them sending in the stormtroopers to get their car back. Anyway, I couldn't be arsed to read the manual, and I knew my way round Dublin well enough. I just had to aim for the M1 and eventually peel off northwest.

'Nick, can we have the radio on?'

I winked at Ruby in the rear-view. 'Good idea. What kind? Talking? Music? We don't need the radio for that. I can sing.'

Her face fell. I'd overstepped the mark again somehow. Maybe her dad had used to sing to her in the car. I was walking on eggshells, and I was shit at it.

I hit the buttons and the Merc filled with perfect sound from about twenty separate speakers.

God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay

I checked the rear-view. Ruby's mouth was moving with the words.

Remember Christ, our Saviour,

Was born on Christmas day

I checked Tallulah. She gave me a fleeting smile.

To save us all from Satan's power

When we were gone astray

I grinned. 'Quite a big ask for one bloke . . .'

Tallulah shot me a tense, not-in-front-of-the-children look. 'Maybe he just needed more friends to help him.'

O tidings of comfort and joy,

comfort and joy,

O tidings of comfort and joy.

I didn't know her well enough to respond. Best to look at the road and shut up. By the time we'd hit the city outskirts half an hour later, Ruby was asleep.