Ali came into the kitchen and overheard the conversation. ‘Mik’s right,’ she said when the manager left. ‘The band will keep you focused. We need to bring some normality back to our lives. Otherwise, we’re going to go crazy and that won’t help anyone, Mum least of all. She’d be the first to tell you to go. It’s only for one night. Me and Eoin will manage until you get back.’

She had Eleanor’s steel, that same gritty determination. Sometimes he heard her at night, the creak on the seventh step as she went downstairs to the breakfast room where the heat of the day still lingered. He followed her once to see if she wanted to talk, and found her curled in one of the armchairs. He thought she was crying but she had been dry-eyed when she assured him she was okay, just sleepless and waiting for morning when she could return to the hospital to watch over her baby. A night away. What could happen in that time? Nothing. This fact added to his grief and to his slow but gradual acceptance that this was their new normality.

He called to see Nadine that afternoon. He talked to her about Sara, still fragile as glass but growing stronger all the time. He played her favourite Van Morrison and Tom Waits discs and, on Jenny’s advice, Ice T. It made no difference yet Jake was convinced that somewhere in the inner reaches of her consciousness, sound filtered and stirred memories.

Imelda was on duty. He was on first name terms with the nurses. Apart from Imelda, he enjoyed their company during the hours he spent in the ward but Imelda’s voice irritated him, especially the high-pitched intonation she used when she spoke to Nadine.

‘How are you, Nadine? Looking as lovely as ever, I see.’ She straightened the bed cover and asked Jake to lower the music. ‘Jake is here, Nadine. You’re such a lucky girl, all those visitors coming to see you. Her friend Jessica was in again, Jake. And Madge… a very bossy woman but her son’s a hunk. I think he has his eye on Ali. What do you think, Nadine? Let me see your arm. I need to take some blood. They don’t call me Vampira for nothing… ha… ha.’

A band practice was arranged after Jake agreed to do the Amsterdam concert. They met in the basement of the Raison D’être studios where Shard had been practicing since the fire in the barn and worked on a song Jake had written before the accident. He felt no affinity to the lyrics or the melody yet it came alive as they experimented with it, each member building up the layers of harmony.

When band practice was over they crossed the Ha’penny Bridge and entered Julia’s Tavern. The manager leaned over the bar and slapped a sympathetic hand on Jake’s shoulder. ‘How are you, mate? Silly question… but you know what I mean?’

‘It’s tough. But I’m managing.’

‘Any improvement?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Jesus, but that’s a hard one to fathom.’ He poured a measure of whiskey and pressed the glass into Jake’s hand. ‘Compliments of the house. The slot’s still here on Sunday afternoons whenever you’re ready to come back.’

Jake downed the whiskey and ordered a double measure, knocked it back with the same ferocity.

‘Take your time, man,’ said Hart. ‘I’m driving you home tonight.’

The Shard van was parked along the quays. Green circles of light dazzled the Liffey as Hart and Reedy supported him over the Ha’penny Bridge. In the passenger seat Jake fumbled with the safety belt until Hart took it from him and fastened it. Street lamps lunged towards him. High towers of spangled glass swayed from side to side. Even when he closed his eyes he could see them. He must have translucent eyelids. He shouted at Hart to stop and opened the door in time to throw up over the kerb. He lay back against the seat, his eyes swimming.

Next morning he was unable to remember leaving the pub or anything about the journey home. His last memory was of tossing back a shot and laughing at something Feral said about Maggie. Something bitchy about how she never cleaned the kitchen counter after she made a sandwich and how, when Feral complained, she was accused of being a nagging wife. It seemed hilarious, two wives bitching about breadcrumbs, that he laughed himself into a blackout and ended up in bed, his clothes placed neatly over a chair? Who had undressed him? He was too hung-over to feel ashamed. Plenty of time for that later.

He winced with shock when he glimpsed his reflection. His skin looked as if it had been stretched on a rack then suddenly released. When had he last suffered such a hangover? The binge culture had passed him by. He was too busy changing nappies and mixing feed formula when his peers were seeking alcoholic obliteration.

He felt slightly revived after the shower, although his eyes still appeared to have developed cataracts overnight. His notebook was open on the bedside locker. He kept it nearby at night in case an idea for a song came to him, a wisp that would be gone by morning unless he wrote it down. Last night he had written, or tried to write, another song. Some of the lyrics actually made sense. How had he functioned in that unconscious state? He imagined Nadine groping through that same dark void, lost in a tunnel with no light to beckon her onwards.

Chapter 64

Nurse. The first word comes. Nurse…nurse….nurse….

‘Hello, Nurse.’

‘Oh, hello there, Jessica. How nice to see you again. How do you think our Nadine is looking today?’

‘Stronger than the last time I was here. Has there been any change in her condition?’

‘Sadly, no. Such a tragedy. It’s kind of you to take the time to sit with her. However, strictly speaking, only family are allowed outside visiting hours.’

‘I understand. But Nadine is very dear to me. My work hours are so unsociable. I won’t stay long. I promise. Do you think she’s aware I’m here with her?’

‘I’d like to believe so, but I’m afraid we still don’t understand the full depths of the unconscious mind. Hearing is the last to go, so we’re told. Her family are convinced she can hear them. They tell her everything that’s going on in their lives. Such devotion. Isn’t that right, Nadine?’

‘It’s been six weeks now, Nurse. How much longer can she go on like this?’

‘Who knows? Sometimes her husband plays music. I believe he’s in that band… what’s it called? Stone or something like that?’

‘Shard. They’re good. I’m a fan.’

‘Nadine, I’m going to take your blood pressure then I’ll fix your pillows, make you more comfy. Oh dear, blood pressure spiking. I’ll need to call the house doctor. Jessica, I’m sorry. I’ll have to ask you to leave.’

‘I understand, Nurse.’

‘Call me Imelda. We believe in an informal atmosphere in Mount Veronica. Nadine, your friend is going now but she’ll be back again to see you. What’s this they say about friends? Old friends are gold, silver new.’

Not Jessica…not Jessica…not Jessica…

Chapter 65

Jake

The concert sold out. A growing fan base, said Mik, and this was only the beginning. The venue was a deconsecrated church that had been converted into a concert hall. Its hallowed past was still evident in the high, vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows. The audience was hushed when the band came on stage, as if a residue of contemplation and meditation still resided within the walls. They were more interested in listening to the music than dancing to it, and enthusiastically applauded at the end of each number. The familiar adrenaline kicked in and it was possible, briefly, for Jake to lose himself in the moment.

Mindfulness. Hart talked a lot about it. No rehashing the past, whipping it around in a mindless circle. No anticipating the future in that same negative loop.