He gave me a big smile and continued his work. After a bit, two female Seekers emerged from the bus, pristine now in their gowns and wimples but destined to be covered in coffee and juice and vomit as the night wore into early morning. One of them gave me a wide smile and said, 'I remember you!'
'Jane,' I said, 'how're you doing?'
'Fabulous/ she said. 'Can I get you a coffee . . . Andrew . . . wasn't it?'
'Orange juice,' 1 said, 'and you have a good memory.'
'I do . . . but then there was also something happened with you at Ballyferris . . . wasn't there?'
'Oh, yes,' I said. 'I got thrown out for sedition.'
She laughed and went to get the juice. When she came back with it, she asked how I'd been and if 1 was still in that bad place with my life, and I said no, everything was fine and dandy; I had just spotted the bus on the way home and wanted to call over and say hello and thank the New Seekers for their support, and her, in particular, for helping me.
'Ah, it was nothing. Sure, that's what we're here for.'
'Well,' I said, 'I appreciate it.'
I lifted the orange juice and drained it in one. 'Better be getting home,' I said, and handed her the glass.
'Good night, Andrew,' she said as she took it from me. 'And may God be with you.'
She gave me another smile and turned away.
'And may God be with you, Alison,' I said.
It stopped her in her tracks, but just for a moment. Then she continued on into the bus. 1 followed her progress along the inside to the small kitchen area. She began to wash the glass. She did not look towards me.
I smiled to myself and turned away.
She had been right there with me, right at the start, and I hadn't noticed. But a colleague of Jonathan's in Culchie's Corner had picked up the photo I'd left and remembered her from a rumpus in the bar when she was collecting for the New Seekers and someone pulled her headdress off. I had no idea how she had ended up with the Seekers, if the trauma of the Wellington Street massacre had caused her to turn to them or they had picked her up, broken or shot, from the street and then slowly brainwashed her, or, indeed, if she had simply been converted because she believed in Eve, just like thousands and thousands of others. Ultimately, it didn't matter. My job was done: I'd been paid handsomely, the puzzle was solved and Alison was alive and free to live that life as she saw fit.
Perfect.
As I walked away from the New Seeker bus, my phone began to ring.
'Well,' Sara asked breezily, 'what's happening?'
'Funny you should ask,' I said.
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