Recovering Commando Box Set
Page 95
“Either way, we really, really need to go now.”
“What have you done?”
“Later, I promise, but we need to go. And, well, we can go together, the three of us. We can take it slow—”
“We’ve been taking it slow,” Sinead shot back. “Any slower we’ll all be dead before—”
“If you change your mind, you can get off on the other side.”
“All this time, all this – whatever this is, and now it’s, like – we gotta go right now, in the fog, in a rush, like – right now!”
“Go for it, girl.” Niall suddenly appeared out of the gloom, fishing rod and tackle box in hand. “Sure, he’ll probably crash into the pier without his trusty mouth in the mist. You’ll be able to get off in fifty metres, like.”
“Thanks, Niall.” Sam shook his head.
“If ye hurry up, girl, I’ll talk y’is out again.”
Sam looked at Sinead, willing her to decide.
“What about Áine?”
“You’ve got a clear phone – call her, tell her.”
“The charity?”
“Trickier. Take leave, take time off. It’ll manage without you for a wee while.”
“My car?”
“Áine will get it.”
“This is really it?”
“We won’t be back, not for a long time.”
“Whatever you’ve done—”
“Not now, Sinead,” he said, nodding at Niall’s back.
Then she made a gesture that let Sam know one way or the other, and he shouted into the fog. “Niall, I need a hand!”
Afterword
I set out to write a trilogy, and a trilogy has been written. Whether there are any more Sam and Isla stories is, frankly, up to you, the reader.
All feedback and reviews are welcome - indeed essential - they are the lifeblood of any writer in the digital age.
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Acknowledgments
This book is a little different from the previous two. Northern Ireland is a place apart. People took all sorts of personal risks here. All sorts of people. There was cowardice, certainly, but there was undoubtedly bravery in buckets. There was sacrifice and, tragically and enduringly, there were people taken from their families with no reason, no explanation, no rationale and no sense. There were also attempts to justify the taking of life.
So my first thanks is to those who for years did their absolute best to follow a decent and honest path through the desperate years of the Troubles and who struggle, still and will always, with the aftermath. There are such people on all sides. Those who I have known, a little or a lot, have their stories in this book.
Closer to home, I want to thank the ladies, as always, although they may never read this text. My pal in Stroke City for first eyes, as ever, and Victoria for catching all that I drop. She’s an accomplished juggler. To Mark Dawson for his encouragement, and to my family for humouring this caper, ill-advised as it may prove to be.
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