Silence between them, not uncomfortable. “You know I miss this,” Surtsey said

Surtsey couldn’t picture Iona doing gymnastics now. The only exercise she got was lifting a pint to her lips. She gave up everything when she hit 14 – the hip-hop classes, the cheerleading, the basketball. Then when their mum was diagnosed Iona gave up everything else, including any attempt at civilised conversation. It was her way of coping but that didn’t make it any easier. And it didn’t help that Louise was so forgiving about it. Why should Surtsey shoulder all the responsibility of visiting mum when she never got any credit for it? But she didn’t do it for credit, of course.

Iona spotted her standing at the bar, beamed and came over. “What brings you here this time of day? Don’t you have volcanic mud to sift through?” “You have such a deep understanding of my work.” “I always listen when you bang on about rocks.” “Shiraz, please.”

Iona poured a large one and handed it over. “On the house.” Surtsey raised her eyebrows. “Thanks.” She glugged then sighed as the glass left her lips. “Looks like you need it.”

“You have no idea.”

Iona checked the bar. Surtsey followed her gaze. A bald guy in his fifties with AC/DC and Aerosmith tattoos had a Sudoku book open, end of a pencil in his mouth. Elsewhere, two guys in red corduroy trousers were sipping pints of Guinness and laughing.

At the fireplace a trio of young mums were stretching their boozy lunch to infinity, their kids clambering over each other on a sofa.

Eternity

“Is this about your boss?” Iona said.

“Yeah.”

“Must be tough, someone you know dying.”

It hung in the air for an eternity, the echo of their mum. “It’s not just that,” Surtsey said.

Iona flipped a cloth between her hands, dabbing at a wet ring on the bar top. “How do you mean?” “You’re going to find out anyway.” “What?”

Surtsey took a drink, lowered her glass. The mums burst into laughter at the other end of the bar. Light played in through the window, dust giddy in the beams.

“I was sleeping with him,” Surtsey said. Iona whistled. “Wasn’t he married?” Surtsey nodded.

“Christ,” Iona said. “I thought you knew better than that.”

Surtsey tilted the glass to her mouth, finished her wine and rolled the glass around in her hand. Iona grabbed the bottle and refilled it. “It gets worse,” Surtsey said. Iona didn’t speak, just screwed the top back on the bottle.

Surtsey drank. “The police know. His wife knows.” Iona had her hands on the bar. “Don’t they have kids?” Surtsey paused with her wine glass in mid-air. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry.”

Surtsey took a breath. “Two girls, Gracie and Belle, nine and six. Now without a dad.”

“That’s not your fault.”

Surtsey laughed. “Try telling the police that. They came to the house and interviewed me. Asked about my whereabouts. I might well be a suspect.”

Iona laughed. “Glad you find it funny.” Iona shook her head. “It’s just so…”

“I know.”

“You’re the sensible one.”

“Apparently not.”

Iona got a wine glass down from above the bar and poured herself a glass. “If one of us was going to have an affair with a married man, get found out by the wife and be a suspect in his death, I always presumed it would be me.”

Surtsey spluttered into her drink. “Me too.” Iona held out her glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Silence

They both took a big hit. Iona looked round and caught the eye of Metal Sudoku, who held his empty glass up. She poured an IPA and placed it in front of him, sharing a smile. She took the money and popped his change in the tips jar.

“Maybe we’re having a Freaky Friday personality swap,” she said as she returned. “Then you would be sensible,” Surtsey said.

“Well I’m at work, while you’re drinking wine in the afternoon.” Surtsey pointed. “So are you.”

“Good point.” Silence between them, not uncomfortable. “You know I miss this,” Surtsey said.

“Drinking in the afternoon or sleeping with married men?”

Surtsey pressed her lips together. “You know what I mean.” She held her hands open to indicate the two of them. “Us talking.”

“We talk.”

“Not really.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Mum.”

Iona shook her head. “You had to go there.” “Come on.”

“What is there to say, Sur? Our mum is dying and there’s nothing we can do. Happy?”

“No.”

“Well, then.”

“But you’re wrong, there is something we can do.” Iona shook her head. “We can make it easier for her,” Surtsey said. “We can help her.”

“She’s our mum,” Iona said. “She’s supposed to help us.”

“She needs us. Why won’t you go and see her?” Iona straightened her shoulders and picked up the bar cloth, smeared the already clean bar. “It breaks her heart,” Surtsey said. “You don’t get to do this.” “Do what?”

Iona squeezed the bar cloth. “You don’t get to nag me, to be the sensible one telling me what to do. We’ve switched personalities, remember, Freaky Friday?”

“If you’re the sensible one, be sensible.” Silence. “Go and see her,” Surtsey said. Iona downed the last of her wine. “Get lost.”

“I know it’s hard.”

Iona put her empty glass in the washer. One of the posh guys was at the bar getting the next round. Iona poured two Guinness, took the money while they settled. When she’d finished, Surtsey held her glass up by the stem, wiggled it.

“Can I get another?” she said. “I’ll pay this time.”

Familiar

Iona sighed. She got the bottle and plonked it next to her sister. “Just drink it. It’s easier to lose a whole bottle of stock than a couple of glasses anyway.” Surtsey poured it herself.

“Here you are.” The familiar accent made her turn. Brendan stood with his fists shoved in his pockets, lines across his forehead. “Here I am,” Surtsey said. The Shiraz had warmed her, the edges of the afternoon fuzzy. Her heart lifted at the sight of him, but her stomach tightened too.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Brendan said. Surtsey stayed quiet. Brendan lifted a hand to his hair. Surtsey puffed out her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” Brendan shook his head. “How long?”

“Can I get you anything?” Iona said from behind the bar. Brendan hesitated, looked at the lager and ale taps, confused. “No thanks.” Surtsey felt heat rise to her face.

“Well?” Brendan said. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. How long?”

“Why does it matter?”

“The details matter.”

More tomorrow.