Part 37 (2/2)

Liam was determined to be brave. John was being John. My two men hugged me.

'I'm going to feed Feynman,' I said eventually.

'Feynman can feed herself.'

'I can't finish my breakfast. I've got a few juicy sc.r.a.ps she'd appreciate.'

The chrome on Red Kildare's Norton gleamed. Its engine purred at walking pace. Father Wally's tricycle squeaked. Leaves ran down the track, a cloud of minnows. 'This puts me in mind of the Palm Sunday parade,' said Father Wally.

Was it really only three days since I walked up from the harbour alone? Had so much time pa.s.sed? Had so little? 'What day is it today?'

'Thursday?' said Liam.

'Monday,' said Red.

'Wednesday,' said Brendan.

The stream clattered across the road.

'I hear music.'

Brendan grinned. 'You must be imagining things again, Mo Muntervary.'

'No! I can hear ”The Rocky Road to Dublin”!'

Planck picked up his feet as we descended the crook of the hill, sensing an occasion to show off. As we rounded the crook of the hill at Ancient O'Farrell's, I saw a crowd of islanders spilling out of The Green Man into the garden. I squeezed John's hand. 'Did you know about this?' There was a banner draped over the door: 'Clear Island's Finest'.

'I'm only a blind harper,' answered my husband.

'Just a limited affair,' said Liam, 'confined to friends and family.'

'I thought I was going to be smuggled out in secret.'

'Not without a quick bevvy first, you weren't.'

'We knew you were decided, Mo,' said Father Wally.

'But we wanted to give you the chance to change your mind,' finished Red.

'Yoohoo! Liam!' said Bernadette Sheehy, sitting on the wall, crossing her legs.

'h.e.l.lo, Bernadette!' sang John and I.

In the bar of The Green Man it was standing room only. Eamonn's boy was playing his accordion. Even the birdwatchers in their anoraks were there, bemused but happy. I looked for the New Zealander, but she wasn't there.

A birdwatcher in a leather jacket was leaning on the bar. He turned around as I entered. 'Good afternoon, Dr Muntervary. I thought Ireland was all bombs, rain and h.o.m.os.e.xual giants of literature.' He took off his wide brown sungla.s.ses. 'This is quite a s.h.i.+ndig. It's a shame we can't stay longer.'

The floor of The Green Man swelled. And then, so strangely, I'm relieved it's all over. At least I can stop running.

'Ma,' Liam knew before anyone else. 'It's him, isn't it?'

The jig carried on, spiralling around with a life of its own.

What happens to all the seconds tipped into the bin of the past?

And what happens to the other universes where electrons follow other paths, where thoughts and mutations and actions differ? Where I was captured in Huw's apartment? Where my father is still alive and my mother bright as the b.u.t.ton she always was, where John never went blind, where my precocity and ambition were those of a small farmer's wife, where nuclear weapons were invented by 1914, where h.o.m.o Erectus went the same fossilised way as Australopithecines, where DNA never zipped itself up, where stars were never born to die in a shroud of carbon and heavier elements, where the big bang crunched back under the weight of its own ma.s.s a few jiffies after it banged?

Or are all these universes hung out, side by side, to drip dry?

'Yes, Liam,' said the Texan, after the jig had stopped. 'It's him.'

'Mo,' said Mayo Davitt in Gaelic, 'do you want us to shove him into the harbour?'

'Talk,' commanded the Texan, 'in English.'

'f.u.c.k,' responded Mayo Davitt in Gaelic, 'a donkey.'

The Texan sized Mayo Davitt up, like a soldier would.

'There isn't to be any fighting,' I said, wis.h.i.+ng my voice hadn't sounded so frail.

Red Kildare stood in front of me. 'Clear Islanders take exception when outsiders come along and take our scientists.'

'And the Government of the United States takes exception when a foreign scientist makes free use of the world's most sophisticated supercolliders and AI research paid for by NATO h.e.l.l, by America and then uses these experiments to formulate theories which could change what technology is, what technology is, and then bolts, for all we know into the arms of the highest bidder.' and then bolts, for all we know into the arms of the highest bidder.'

'I bolted first,' I corrected, 'and then formulated the theory.'

'How can Mo steal a theory when it's the fruit of her own G.o.d-given intelligence?' asked Father Wally.

'I'd love to discuss the theosophy of our situation all day, Father. Truly I would. But we have a helicopter on standby, so let me cut to the legal position. Under Requisition Clause 13b of the NATO Official Secrets Act, the Light Box Research owns whatever comes out of Dr Muntervary's head. We own Light Box Research. A preacher of your intelligence can reach your own conclusion.'

'Get on your helicopter and sod off then.' Maisie advanced. 'You're not welcome in The Green Man, and you're not welcome on Clear Island.'

'Dr Muntervary? Your G.o.dmother thinks it's time for us to leave.'

Freddy Doig got up, and Bertie Crow too. 'Mo's going nowhere!'

The Texan shook his head in fake disbelief, jerked his thumb at the window, and we all looked. Brendan whistled softly. 'Holy Dooley, Mo, you have been doing well for yourself.'

A line of marines in combat gear stared back. Some islanders stood in awed huddles, some were hurrying away.

'Dear Lord,' said Freddy Doig. 'What film did they get those guns from?'

'Somebody tell me what's happening,' commanded John.

'Soldiers,' said Liam. 'Ten of them. To apprehend my supercriminal ma.'

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