Page 149 of The Island

She began to drift into sleep.

Zodiac, moon, mother.

She sat bolt upright.

“Owen! Your homework. The new moon and the full moon. Isn’t that when the lowest of the low tides are?” Olivia asked.

“Yeah. I think that’s right. The spring tide. Twice a month…” Owen’s face lit up. He saw what Olivia was driving at. He shook Heather.

“What is it? Is everything OK?” she asked.

“We know a way to get out of here,” Owen said.

45

Back up in the backcountry. In the shadow of Slemish.

Aye, take it back. Somewhere in those high hills, the monster.

Escape it. Escape the poverty and the rain. Go with your ticket on the big boat. Make a new life in another land across the sea. Good luck, love, they said. Good luck, love, and that was it.

This new land. This empty land. This land of luck.

The monster following after.

I don’t need this at my age. It finds you. From under the shadow of the black mountain, it comes.

I know all about her. I know the meaning of her. Morrigan the crow knows her too.

These good-for-nothing layabouts. I didn’t get sick. Water? I wouldn’t touch the stuff. These eejits. These larrikins. Me with my bad legs. I could do a better job. She will destroy everything I’ve built if I don’t fix this.

“Matty! Matty, get up here! I have a plan. Matthew, where are you? Get up here!”

Him the only one not soiled by the blood.

“What is it, Ma?”

“Get up here! Your plan didn’t work, but I have a plan to catch the bitch.”

“What plan?” Matt said, opening the door.

“Go to the dresser. Give me that grog. My knees. My bloody knees. Who is she? How did she wreak all this havoc, Matthew?”

“I don’t know, Ma. Tom said she was his massage therapist before he married her.”

“She’s not one of these university types?”

“No, Ma.”

“Then what? What does she have? She looks like a stiff breeze would knock her over.”

“Yes. I sort of thought the same thing.”

“Is she lucky or is she smart?”

“I don’t know.”

Ma swallowed her grog with satisfaction. It was the good stuff. Well over twenty years old, but smooth. And the seaweed under the still reminded her of Bushmills. “Sit next to me on the bed, that’s it. Drink?”