Page 14 of Love Unlocked

They sit in silence.

‘Are you okay?’ Natasha asks.

‘Yeah, sorry.’

‘Thanks for being so nice about it. I didn’t think you’d understand.’

‘I do.’

He moves paperwork around on the desk. A file to the left, back to the right. Makes room for the dish.

‘Is everything okay with your missus?’ she asks, blowing her nose.

How long is too long to pretend?

‘No, actually, we split up but I don’t want to …’ He stands up and lifts dish.

‘Oh Jesus, I’m sorry, when?’

It’s the pity in her face. He can’t. He feels a sob coming on. Not now, not in his office.

‘A few weeks ago,’ he says, pushing the words out in a weird voice, the kind you have when there’s a burp caught in your throat. He lifts the lid on the dish, as something to do. ‘Do you want some apple tart?’

‘No.’

‘I think I’ll leave it in the kitchen for everyone to share.’ He wants to escape the conversation before he cries, but then he sees Walter still out there talking to someone, smiling. How can he be smiling while his balls are hanging out of his underwear?

‘Actually, could you do it?’ he asks, placing the dish in Natasha’s hands.

‘Sure. So do you want to see her now?’

‘Who?’

‘Helen Hanratty.’

‘She’s here?’

‘Yeah, she brought the tart and wanted to have a quick word with you. Sorry, did I not say?’ She’s confused, exhausted, she’ll be no use to him today but better here than walking out in front of traffic. He had thought of doing that, but knowing his luck he wouldn’t die, or he would, and he couldn’t figure out what was worse. He’d wanted just enough injuries for Tara and Walter to come to their senses and to his side. They would decide his safety and well-being were more important than their happiness. Just as well they’d only kissed, they hadn’t had sex, so he could forgive them both for their honest mistake and pick up where they’d left off. He knew this was all impossible.

‘Fine, okay.’

Helen Hanratty sits before him in a grey polo neck and pearl necklace. Only fifty per cent of the association is here today.

‘Hello again, Helen, thank you for the tart.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing, just something small as a token of thanks from the No Locks Association. We’re very grateful you removed the locks because we’re all about restoring and protecting the heritage sites of the city.’

‘Yes,’ he says, trying to anticipate her next demand. He waits for the But.

‘But, the Grace Plunkett Bridge still doesn’t look as it’s supposed to look. In fact it’s once again rather unsightly due to the plastic you’ve put on it.’

‘It’s Plexiglass. It’s to lock-proof the bridge. Just because we moved the locks once, doesn’t mean people won’t begin again.’ He’d wrap himself in Plexiglass if he could, or better yet remove his heart from his chest and cover it in Plexiglass before lowering it into his chest again.

‘Couldn’t you just keep removing the locks? Or have somebody standing by, guarding it?’

‘It’s not in our resources to do such a thing. Maybe you can go directly to Dublin City Council about that. We are the maintenance people.’

‘Dublin City Council keep diverting me to you.’