Lamb Read Free Page B

to anyone.’
    The boy nodded lest the sound he made would give it away. Brother Sebastian stood up and whistled the bathers back with two fingers.
    Brother Sebastian, in plain clothes for the week-end, sat on a hard creaking chair outside the solicitor’s office waiting his turn. It was a passageway rather than a waiting room. Some magazines, years out of date, lay around on the seats. Brother Sebastian leafed through them. Woman, Home Beautiful, Boys’ Own, The Economist. He folded his arms and looked at the ceiling. Still the voices droned on from inside the office. He read the jokes page in Boys’ Own and laughed to himself. He got up and went to the end of the passage and looked out of the window into the street of the small Ulster market town. He knew almost every face going in and out the shops, although now he had to struggle to remember some of the names. Women gossiped and a dog walked sideways across the street. The bus came in and bounced a tied pile of morning newspapers off the pavement. Brother Sebastian went back to his seat.
    The office door opened and Maguire came out with an old lady. He showed her to the stairs and told her to be careful because the handrail was broken. He turned to Brother Sebastian and invited him into the office.
    â€˜I never know whether to call you Brother Sebastian or Michael Lamb.’
    â€˜I think Michael Lamb is best for business,’ he said, smiling.
    â€˜Righty-ho. What can I do for you, Michael?’
    Maguire was young and immaculately dressed in contrast to his grubby office. He drove a brand new sports car and everybody said he was raking it in. Michael hesitated, cleared his throat and began.
    â€˜I was wondering if there was any way to speed up this will business. I would like to know whether I owe people money or I’m going to get money.’
    â€˜Righty-ho. Let’s see now.’ He went to a filing cabinet and took some papers out and plucked a silver biro from his inside pocket. As he worked he licked his bottom lip with a stiff tongue. ‘Well, you’ll be glad to know, Michael, that you don’t owe any money.’
    â€˜Good,’ said Michael. ‘Can you tell me how much there is?’
    â€˜Not exactly, at the moment. But I would say it wouldn’t be a kick on the arse off two thousand. If you’ll excuse my French, Brother.’
    â€˜And when is the earliest I can get it?’
    â€˜Let me see now.’ Maguire leaned back in his chair, drumming his biro on the papers. ‘About three months?’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Michael. ‘That’s far too long.’
    â€˜It’s the way the law grinds, Brother.’
    Michael sat, not knowing what to say next.
    â€˜Did you want the money urgently? What for, might I ask?’
    â€˜It’s sort of personal.’
    Maguire laughed again.
    â€˜Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. Eh?’
    â€˜That’s it.’
    â€˜It’s not a shady deal, is it?’
    Michael was too slow in answering.
    â€˜No,’ he said.
    â€˜I get the picture. I know more than you think, Michael.’ He assumed the attitude of a conspirator, his face doing all but winking.
    â€˜Righty-ho,’ he said. ‘I can let you have something in advance. But be warned. I have to charge dearly for it. If I put my neck in a noose it’ll cost you. Righty-ho?’
    Michael moved to the edge of his seat and sighed with relief.
    â€˜How much can you let me have?’
    â€˜Eight hundred. It’s all I have on the premises at the moment.’ He went to a small steel safe in the corner and opened it with a key. He took out a brown envelope and handed it to Michael.
    â€˜You may check it if you wish.’
    Michael counted the ten-pound notes, wetting his finger. He had never seen so much money in his life. He felt a guilty elation as he reached the last one.
    â€˜Let me have your signature. Here,’ Maguire said. The