I Hear the Sirens in the Street

but Harry’s got one.”
    “Okay then. I’ll see you in about half an hour … Don’t be freaked, but I, uh, I had a bit of a car accident, I’m slightly beat up.”
    “Oh my God, are you okay?”
    “I’m fine. Shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
    “Should you be driving?”
    “Yes! I’m fine. Look, I’ll see you in a wee bit, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    I hung up and wondered if I really should be driving all the way down to Islandmagee.
    Well, we’d soon find out.
    I dressed myself without much difficulty and went out to the Beemer.
    I was wearing jeans and a tight black sweater. They’d shaved my head in the hospital to put the stitches in. The ensemble made me look like I was a paramilitary thug. To complete the thing I went upstairs, got my .38 and shoved it in my belt.
    “You look like an eejit,” I said to my face in the mirror.
    I kept the BMW at a reasonable pace down to Islandmagee.
    The private road to Sir Harry’s land had a different goon guarding it now. A kid with big ears, red cheeks and a red hunting hat that he was wearing backwards.
    “Is that thing loaded?” I asked, looking at his twelve-gauge shotgun.
    “Aye, it is, so you better piss off, mate! This is private land,” he said.
    “I’m a peeler, son, open the bloody gate!”
    He got off his arse and opened the gate.
    I drove down the lane to Emma’s house.
    It began to rain.
    I parked the car. Took the box of steaks out of the boot. I’d stuffed the freezer compartment of my fridge full but there were still thirty or forty of the bastards left.
    I carried the box to the front door while chickens pecked about my feet and Cora barked at me all the way. I leaned them on top of the oil drum for the central heating.
    Emma opened the door. “Hi,” she said, and then, “Oh my word.”
    “I’m not a pretty sight, am I?”
    “Not in the least.”
    “Where do you want these?”
    She looked in the box. “That’s a lot of meat. I’ll cook two for us tonight and we’ll leave the rest up in Harry’s freezer.”
    She was making an assumption that I was staying for dinnerand she suddenly felt embarrassed about that. Her cheeks coloured and she looked all the more beautiful for it. “That is unless you have plans, or work, or—”
    “I’d love to say for dinner. And there’s no work this week. I’m still officially on leave.”
    “Have a seat, leave those things on the kitchen table.”
    I carried the steaks inside to the kitchen and then joined her in the living room.
    “Get you a drink?” she asked.
    “A stiff glass of anything except that moonshine of yours.”
    “Johnnie Walker Black?”
    “That’ll do nicely.”
    She poured me a glass.
    “Thanks,” I said and sipped it.
    “Sit yourself down there, Sean. I’ll go marinate those steaks in garlic and red wine.”
    “Sounds good.”
    I drank the Johnnie Walker and watched the sun head towards Magheramorne and the west side of Larne Lough. She came back with a glass of Johnnie Walker for herself. She snuggled next to me on the sofa.
    She was wearing a soft wool sweater and faded blue jeans and her hair was tied back.
    I liked her being close to me.
    It was a nice moment.
    “So, what happened to you? Was it driving on the wrong side of the road?” she asked.
    I span her a few lies and she went for them. And then, feeling guilty about that, I told her about some stuff from my previous New York trip. She laughed at the story of the Reggie Jackson bar, but she hadn’t heard of The Ramones or the New York Dolls or even Blondie and I vowed that I would rectify that.
    “How do you like your steak?” she asked, getting up.
    “Call me squeamish, but I’m no fan of rare,” I said.
    “Medium okay?” she asked.
    “Sure … How long will it take?”
    “Twenty-five minutes.”
    I got up.
    “You’ve no freezer at all?” I asked.
    “None.”
    “Well, I don’t want them to spoil. I’ll leave the rest of the box up at Harry’s. The only thing that worries me is Mrs Patton giving me the evil eye.”
    “Oh, don’t be silly, she’s harmless. Well, she’s outlived two husbands, but that’s neither here nor there, and you won’t even have to go to the house. He’s got a curing shed for hanging his pheasants and there’s a big freezer in that. Just bung them in.”
    “Where is it?”
    “You just go through the gate, turn left and follow the wall about a hundred yards and you’ll see it.”
    “Is it out the back with the greenhouse and everything?”
    She