The O’Hara Affair Read Free Page A

Lissamore, the one that goes from nowhere to nowhere.’
    ‘Nowhere to nowhere?’
    ‘It was one of those pointless famine relief projects, designed to give the starving locals the wherewithal to buy a few grains of Indian corn back in the 1840’s. As far as I know, it was never used for anything. But my mate Aidan had his houseboat transported and plonked down in a safe berth. He hasn’t visited it for over a year now, and he’d love it to be given some TLC. He couldn’t pay you, but I’m pretty sure he’d let you live there rent free.’
    ‘Oh, Raoul! I’d love to live on a houseboat!’
    ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Raoul picked up the wine bottle. ‘Here. Have some more Château Whatever.’
    Raoul was as good as his word. He put in a call to his mate Aidan, and sorted Cat out with her brand new home from the place she couldn’t call home. And by the time they’d finished the bottle and left the house the way they’d come in and hit the main road, Cat was feeling buoyant and full of hope.
    ‘Bye bye, Raoul,’ she said, as the twice-weekly bus to Galway appeared over the brow of the hill, and drew up by the turnoff to Hugo’s house. ‘You are my fairy half-brother.’
    ‘Less of the fairy, thanks. I’ll be in touch.’
    Cat hugged Raoul the way she never hugged anybody else, and watched him board the bus.
    ‘Here,’ he said, taking something out of his duffle bag, and tossing it to her. ‘You may need this.’ He gave her a final salute, and then the bus door slid shut and he was gone.
    In her hand, Cat was clutching the screwdriver she’d used to gain access to the show house. She smiled, and turned toward the path that would take her to the house in the forest, the house that she hoped to leave soon. As she passed through the gate and rounded the first bend, a voice from behind her hissed: ‘Cat! Cat! Here, Kitty Cat!’
    She swung round as they emerged from the trees. There were three of them. They were wearing stocking masks and stupid grins. Someone said, ‘A little bird told me it was your birthday, Kitty Cat. Come here to us now, like a good girl, and let us give you your birthday present.’
    Without pausing for thought, Cat aimed the first kick.

Chapter One
    Fleur O’Farrell felt foolish. She was standing in front of the wardrobe in her bedroom, regarding her reflection in the mirror. Fleur normally took real pride in her appearance – but this afternoon she was wearing a floral print skirt over flouncy petticoats, a cherry-red cummerbund, and a low-cut blouse. Her feet were bare, a silk shawl was slung around her shoulders, and great gilt hoops dangled from her earlobes. The crowning glory was the wig – an Esmeralda-style confection of synthetic black curls. She looked like a chorus member from a second-rate production of Carmen .
    Her friend, Río Kinsella, had talked her in to playing the fortune-teller at the annual Lissamore village festival. Río usually took on the role herself, but this summer she was up to her tonsils in work, and had not a moment to spare. So Río had furnished Fleur with the gypsy costume, as well as a crystal ball, a chenille tablecloth and a manual called Six Lessons in Crystal Gazing . The flyleaf told Fleur that these words of wisdom had been published in 1928.
    Turning away from the mirror, Fleur reached for the dog-eared booklet. The cover featured a bug-eyed gal transfixed by a crystal ball, and the blurb went: ‘Are you lacking in selfconfidence, unemployed or discouraged? Are you preparedfor the future, or blindly groping in the darkness? Do you wish for health, happiness and success?’
    Evidently not a lot had changed in the world since 1928. People were still asking the same questions, and still entertaining the same hopes and ambitions. Nowadays, however, instead of using crystal gazing as a means of self-help, people were unrolling yoga mats and sticking Hopi candles in their ears to assist them in their navel gazing. Much the same thing,