bastard and his ho, then,’ she returned, pettishly. ‘Let’s open the other bottle. I feel like getting drunk.’
Cat had never been able to call her stepmother by her given name. Although Ophelia had been Mrs Gallagher for five years, Cat refused to acknowledge her and had gleefully shortened her name to ‘Oaf’. Stepmother and stepdaughter were barely civil to each other now.
Raoul took the second bottle of wine from his backpack, and started to strip away the foil from the neck. ‘You’re seventeen now, Cat,’ he pointed out. ‘Legally speaking, you could leave home, with our father’s permission.’
‘Sure, he’d give it in a heartbeat.’ Cat leaned against the wall, and slid down until she was sitting on the carpet.
‘Well, then?’
‘Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. But where would I go – and don’t tell me I can move in with you because there’s no way I’m gonna cramp your style with the ladies.’ Raoul inserted the corkscrew and pulled the cork, and Cat smiled up at him. ‘I’ll never forget how pissed off your girlfriends used to look every time I escaped from the boarding school of doom and landed on your doorstep.’
Raoul laughed. ‘It was a little bizarre. Remember the night you sleepwalked your way into bed with me and . . . what was her name? It was some hippy-dippy thing.’
‘Windsong. I could never keep my face straight when I talked to her. Windsong hated me.’
Raoul poured wine, then handed Cat a cup and sat down beside her. ‘So let’s have a serious think about this. You can’t move in with me, and you can’t afford to rent anywhere.’
‘You’re right. There’s no way I could afford to live on my allowance. And I can’t live without it. It’s a catch-22. I may despise our dad, but he doles out the dosh.’
‘And he’s not going to cut you off, kid. If you do move out, get him to lodge money in your bank account.’
‘I don’t have a bank account’.
‘Not even a savings account?’
‘No, and I can’t open a current account until I’m eighteen.’
‘Get him to send you postal orders.’
Cat gave him a sceptical look. ‘To where? Cat Gallagher, no fixed abode?’
‘It’s dead simple. I used to do it all the time when I was travelling. You set up a poste restante in the local post office, and pick up your mail there.’
Cat made a face. ‘Maybe I should get a job.’
‘Maybe you should.’
‘Ha! Let’s face it, Raoul – I’m unemployable.’
‘Don’t be defeatist, sweetheart. And, hang on . . . I think . . . I think . . .’
‘Share. I hate enigmatic pauses.’ Cat took a hit of her wine.
‘I think I might be having a very good idea.’ Raoul gave her a speculative look. ‘How would you feel about living on a houseboat, Kitty Cat?’
‘A houseboat! Wicked! Tell me about it.’
‘I have a friend who has one in Coolnamara. He could do with someone to caretake it for him.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes. His wife’s in a wheelchair, and they can’t live on a boat any more. Can’t sell it, either. And he doesn’t want it to rot away on the water.’
‘Where is it?’
‘It’s on a stretch of canal near Lissamore, the one that goes from nowhere to nowhere.’
‘Nowhere to nowhere?’
‘It was one of those pointless famine relief projects, designed to give the starving locals the wherewithal to buy a few grains of Indian corn back in the 1840s. As far as I know, it was never used for anything. But my mate Aidan had his houseboat transported and plonked down in a safe berth. He hasn’t visited it for over a year now, and he’d love it to be given some TLC. He couldn’t pay you, but I’m pretty sure he’d let you live there rent-free.’
‘Oh, Raoul! I’d love to live on a houseboat!’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Raoul picked up the wine bottle. ‘Here. Have some more Château Whatever.’
Raoul was as good as his word. Straightaway, he put in a call to his mate Aidan, and sorted Cat out with her brand new home from the place she couldn’t call home. And by the time they’d finished the bottle and left the house the way they’d come in and hit the main road, Cat was feeling buoyant and full of hope.
‘Bye, Raoul,’ she said, as the twice-weekly bus to Galway appeared over the brow of the hill, and drew up by the turn-off to Hugo’s house. ‘You are my fairy half-brother.’
‘Less of the fairy, thanks. I’ll be in touch.’
Cat hugged Raoul the way she never hugged anybody else, and watched him board the bus.
‘Here,’ he said, taking something from his backpack and tossing it to her. ‘You may need this.’ He gave her a final salute, then the bus door slid shut and he was gone.
In her hand, Cat was clutching the screwdriver she’d used to gain access to the showhouse. She smiled, and turned towards the path that would take her to the house in the forest, the house that she hoped soon to leave. As she passed through the gate and rounded the first bend, a voice from behind her hissed: ‘Cat! Cat! Here, Kitty Cat!’
She swung round as they emerged from the trees. There were three of them. They were wearing stocking masks and stupid grins. One said, ‘A little bird told me it was your birthday, Kitty Cat. Come here to us now, like a good girl, and let us give you your birthday present.’
Without pausing for thought, Cat aimed the first kick.
Chapter One
Río Kinsella thought that she had never seen an uglier building. Constructed from precast concrete, it was veined with fissures and topped with a corrugated roof of some leprous-looking material. The grey steel shutters clamped over the doors and windows lent it a hostile expression. On the forecourt, dandelions clumped, and amorphous masses of machinery lay rusting. The place would make an ideal location for one of those murky Scandinavian thrillers.
Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she extracted an email printout.
Río – finally found what I’ve been looking for! It’s a working oyster farm – OK, I know that hardly fits my boyhood dream of becoming a fisherman, but it’s the next best thing! Might you have a gander at it for me? It’s a mile or so along the beach from the Villa Felicity – or whatever the place is called now – you probably know it? The guy who sold it to me is from Kerry, and inherited it from his uncle. There’s a cottage with it – he said he’d leave the key in O’Toole’s so you could check it out. (I’ve a feeling it might be in need of your
