He throws his eyes upwards. ‘Three guesses. But there’s nothing she can do to change our minds.’

‘I’ve moved my stuff into the other room. It’s more honest, don’t you think?’

‘I would have moved – ’

‘It’s done, Jake.’

I acknowledge the dragging pain in my back. He’s right, damn him. My period will have arrived by tonight. I can never decide if being premenstrual means I’m overreacting to situations or staring at the truth with a hard, unflinching gaze.

Chapter 16

Jake

The New Year began as the old one ended. Recession… austerity… downturn… crash. Such words invaded his dreams and dominated his waking hours. He had married Nadine in the eighties on the cusp of a recession and now they were divorcing on the cusp of another one.

Paul Rowan from Brass & Strings, who had been trying to buy Tõnality for years, was no longer interested. He had invested everything in property and had a dead-man-walking expression when he met Jake for lunch. Flushed cheeks and red veins on his nose, an ominous sign. Susanna Cox from HiNotes Music Academy had also changed her mind. Contraction, not expansion was the only way to survive the recession, she said. Her offer to buy Tõnality was off the table. A third buyer – who had once made a derisory offer for Tõnality – was approached. This derisory offer would now be welcomed with open arms but since Tõnality lost the STRUM contract the buyer was looking elsewhere to expand.

Jake contacted an estate agent, a smooth-talking young woman, who convinced him their house would sell easily. Nine couples came to the first showing. After poking into corners and inspecting the presses, not one of them expressed any further interest. Jake suspected they were sightseers, voyeurs who, in centuries past, would have brought their knitting and watched the guillotine coming down. The estate agent was now talking about making ‘realistic market adjustments.’ This meant only one thing: drop the price.

He kept waking in the small hours. Unable to go back to sleep he would toss restlessly until it was time to get up. The bed was too big for one person but Nadine showed no inclination to share it with him again. Working together used to be easy but nowadays they snapped at each other over little things, tempers flaring when they were both exhausted.

‘You and Nadine should be sitting tight on your assets and riding out the recession together,’ said Daryl when Jake confided in him.

‘How long will that take?’ Jake asked.

‘Five years… six max.’

‘Are you kidding?’

‘I wish I was.’

Daryl worked in investment finance and had been claiming for years that the banks were in a bubble. When Jake had argued that the economic experts claimed there would be ‘a soft landing’ Daryl had snorted and said, ‘We’re talking about the economy, stupid, not a bouncy castle.’

Politicians had called him and his ilk ‘prophets of doom.’ Now it turned out that they were simply ‘prophets.’

‘If you and Nadine are serious about splitting up, you should talk to my sister,’ Daryl said. ‘Divorce is Carol’s area of expertise.’

Jake hesitated, nervous about taking such a huge step forward. ‘Isn’t it too soon to involve solicitors?’

‘I’m just suggesting an informal meeting with Carol,’ Daryl replied. ‘Find out exactly what’s involved. I’ll ring her if you like, let her know you’ll be in touch.’

‘No harm, I suppose,’ he said. ‘I’ll check with Nadine.’

Jake had known Carol Farrell since she was pumping iron in a baby bouncer. She threw up over his first pair of Converse and could beat him and Daryl at arm wrestling by the time she was six. Now she had a brass nameplate outside her office and was known in family law circles as The Avenger.

‘I have to admit that this is the most civilised divorce I’ve ever come across,’ Carol said when she heard their details. ‘Normally, on a first meeting I’m dodging verbal bullets across my desk.’

‘This is a mutual decision,’ said Nadine with unnecessary firmness. ‘We’re both in agreement that we want a fifty-fifty split and no animosity.’

‘I’m glad there’s no animosity.’ Carol checked the documents they had brought with them. ‘But if you decide to go through the courts I can’t work for both of you. One of you will have to be represented by a different solicitor.’

‘You belong to me,’ said Jake, half-joking, wholly serious. ‘You still owe me for a pair of Converse.’

‘Marion Norman is a good friend of mine and very competent.’ She glanced across her desk at Nadine, who nodded in agreement.

‘This seems perfectly straightforward,’ said Carol. ‘All your details appear to be in order. When there’s an equal division of assets I don’t foresee any problems. If you remain living apart for four years you’ll automatically be granted your divorce.’

‘Four years!’ Jack was unable to hide his shock. ‘Why does it take so long? This is a no-faults divorce.’

‘Under Irish law that’s the timespan.’ Carol pressed the documents together until the edges were aligned. Her nails were white-tipped, squared off, efficient. ‘If your mother and her merry band of zealots had had their way, you wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a divorce.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ said Jake. ‘I still remember the arguments you used to have with her.’

‘The best days of my life.’ Carol’s eyes sparkled. ‘Eleanor trained me to be a cage fighter.’ She handed two information booklets to them. ‘Everything is explained here. Consider your options and get back to me when you’ve decided how you want to proceed.’

She shook their hands and escorted them to the front door. They walked in silence towards the gates of St. Stephen’s Green. It was a mild January day and the park was busy with people on their lunch break, some relaxing on benches, others strolling along the paths with cartons of coffee and baguettes.

‘Four years!’ Jake sighed when they reached the duck pond and sat down on a bench. ‘I’ll probably have a brood of grandchildren by then.’

Nadine laughed shortly and leaned her head back, her hand screening her eyes. ‘Do you think we’ll ever emerge from this mess?’ she asked.

‘I wouldn’t call our marriage a mess,’ he protested.

‘I’m talking about Tõnality. Losing STRUM is really affecting us. We’re in a lot of trouble, Jake.’

‘I know. But we’ll manage. It’ll just take a little longer than we expected.’

Who was he trying to convince? Not Nadine, if her expression was anything to go by. He watched the ducks waddling towards a small, chubby boy in a peaked cap. The boy held out a crust of bread but let it fall before the ducks reached him. He scampered back to his mother, who lifted him up in her arms. Sunday afternoons when the children were small, this was where they came. The scene never changed, only the ducks and the children moved on.

A woman dressed in a blue coat emerged from the shadow of trees. Blonde and slim, confident stride, Jake saw her everywhere, a flash, an illusion, as this one probably was.

The hill-walking expedition had been ruined when he realised his phone was at home. He had been consumed with dread that a text would arrive from Karin and be read by Nadine. The fact that that was exactly what happened had horrified him. No more muddied thoughts, half-baked fantasies, ridiculous texts. Text sex… his kids would coil up and die with shame if they knew. As for Nadine… how would she have reacted if she had searched his phone, discovered Karin’s photographs, read her pithy, witty comments? That night, before he could change his mind, he deleted every text and photograph he had received from or sent to her by phone. Then he emailed her.

Dear Karin,

You asked if I was a rare thing, an honest married man. When you read this email you may think your suspicions that such a species doesn’t exist are well-founded. I want to see you again… but I’m still married to Nadine. Lying to her doesn’t sit easy with me. We plan to begin divorce proceedings as soon as possible but we also have a business and a house to sell before we can move forward. Everything will be different once that’s done.