thought of the deal I’d agreed to. What had I done?
Despite wanting to take it all back, I nodded nervously. He shook my hand once, a firm single shake, in the centre of the bridge, and then he let go.
How to Take Your Relationship to the Next Level
‘What the hell were you doing there?’ Detective Maguire growled, pushing his face close to mine.
‘Trying to help.’
‘How do you know him?’ Meaning: him as well?
‘I don’t.’
‘So what happened here?’
‘I was just walking by and saw that he was in trouble. We were concerned you wouldn’t get here on time, so I thought I’d talk to him.’
‘Because your talking did so well the first time,’ he vented, then appeared to regret saying that. ‘Seriously, Christine, do you expect me to believe that story? You were “just walking by”? Twice in one month? Do you expect me to believe it was a coincidence? If you’re playing at being some caped crusader—’
‘I’m not. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I thought I could help.’ Getting angry at my treatment, I added: ‘And I did, didn’t I? I got him back on the bridge.’
‘Barely,’ he fumed. He paced before me.
From afar I could see Adam watching me with concern. I gave him a weak smile.
‘I don’t think this is funny.’
‘I’m not laughing.’
He studied me, trying to figure out what to do with me. ‘You can tell me about this from start to finish at the station.’
‘But I didn’t do anything wrong!’
‘You’re not under arrest, Christine. I need to file a report.’ He walked away, expecting me to follow him to the car.
‘You can’t take her too,’ Adam protested. He looked and sounded exhausted.
‘Don’t you worry about what we’re doing with her.’ Maguire adopted a different, much softer voice for Adam’s benefit, one I didn’t know existed within him.
‘Really, I’m fine,’ Adam objected as Maguire started helping him to the car. ‘It was a moment of madness. I’m fine now. I just want to go home.’
Maguire murmured supportive words but accompanied him to the car all the same, disregarding his wishes. While Adam was taken in one car, I was taken in another to Pearse Street station, where I was asked to tell my story again. It was obvious that Maguire wasn’t entirely convinced that I was telling the truth. The fact is, I was holding back and he knew it. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what I was really doing on the bridge or at the housing development. And I couldn’t tell it to the nice lady who came into the room after him, wanting to chat to me about my experience.
After an hour Detective Maguire told me I was free to leave.
‘What about Adam?’
‘Adam isn’t your concern now.’
‘But where is he?’
‘Being assessed by a psychologist.’
‘So when can I see him?’
‘Christine …’ he warned, trying to get rid of me.
‘What?’
‘What did I tell you about getting involved? There are taxis outside. Go home. Get some sleep. Try to stay out of trouble.’
So I left the garda station. It was midnight on a Sunday and the cold went straight to my bones; the streets were empty of traffic, apart from the odd taxi. The all-seeing Trinity College stood dark and empty before me. I don’t know how long I was standing there, trying to figure everything out, the shock finally sinking in, when the door behind me opened and I felt Maguire’s presence before I heard him.
‘You’re still here.’
I didn’t know what to say to that so I simply looked at him.
‘He’s been asking for you.’
My heart lifted.
‘He’ll be spending the night away. Can I give him your number?’
I nodded.
‘Get in a taxi, Christine,’ Maguire said, and threw me a look so threatening that I found myself hailing the nearest cab.
I went home.
Unsurprisingly I didn’t sleep. I sat up, my coffee machine keeping me company as I watched my phone and wondered if Detective Maguire had given Adam the correct number. When seven a.m. arrived and I heard cars on the road, I started to nod off. Fifteen minutes later my alarm clock woke me for work. Adam didn’t call me all day, then at six p.m. when I was turning off my computer, my phone rang.
We arranged to meet at the Ha’penny Bridge, which seemed right at the time as it was our only link to one another, but once we were both there, twenty-four hours after the incident, it felt inappropriate. He wasn’t on the bridge but standing beside it on Bachelors Walk, looking down at the water. I would have given anything to know what he was thinking.
‘Adam.’
At the sound of my voice, he turned. He was wearing the same black duffle coat and black woollen hat from the previous night, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, sure.’ He sounded shell-shocked. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Where did they take you last night?’
‘A few questions at the station, then St John of Gods for a psychological assessment. I passed with flying colours,’ he joked. ‘Anyway I called you because I wanted to thank you, in person.’ He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘So, thank you.’
‘Okay. Well, you’re welcome,’ I replied, awkwardly, not knowing whether to shake his hand or give him a hug. All the signs indicated I should leave him alone.
He nodded then and turned to cross the road to Lower Liffey Street. He wasn’t looking where he was going and a car honked angrily as it narrowly missed running him over. He barely registered the sound and kept on walking.
‘Adam!’
He turned around. ‘Accident. Promise.’
I knew then that I would have to follow him. The hospital may have believed
