The Insider. Ava McCarthy

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       1

      Harry was about to do something that could put her in jail. This wasn’t unusual in her line of business, but it still made her palms sweat.

      She pushed her coffee away and stared at the glass doors of the building across the street. Her eyes watered in the April glare. The first time she’d tried anything like this had been sixteen years ago when she was just thirteen, and she’d almost been arrested. This was different. This time she was going to get away with it.

      The doors across the street swung open and she jerked upright in her chair. It was just the motorbike courier coming back out. He’d been the only visitor in the last twenty minutes. Harry shifted on the hard aluminium seat, certain she’d be left with stripes like Venetian blinds chiselled across her backside.

      ‘D’you want anything else?’

      The café manager stood in front of her, squat like a bulldog, his arms folded across a stained apron. The message was clear. It was lunchtime, and she had occupied the pavement table for almost an hour. Time to go.

      ‘Yes I do.’ She flashed him her best winsome smile. ‘A sparkling water, please.’

      He dumped her cup and saucer on a tray and slouched back inside. The doors across the street swung open again and five young women stepped out in a bunch, all wearing the same navy-and-green uniform. They strolled along the pavement, passing around a single cigarette, sucking on it like deep-sea divers sharing out their last canister of air. Harry squinted at their faces. They were all too young.

      She sat back and uncrossed her legs. Her tights prickled under her navy suit and her feet had started to cramp. It had been a toss-up that morning between plain flat shoes and the kitten heels with gold buckles, but as always she’d been a sucker for anything shiny. She hoped she wouldn’t have to make a run for it any time in the next forty-five minutes.

      Harry flexed her feet and listened to the clang of beer barrels being unloaded down a nearby laneway. She could smell the stale lager from the open pub doors, musty like decaying fruit. A bus lurched to a halt right in front of her and blocked her view of the doors.

      Shit, she should have noticed the bus stop before she sat down. The engine throbbed as one by one the passengers spilled out. The air quivered with hot diesel fumes, the bus and the building beyond it rippling like a mirage. She drummed her fingers on the table.

      Jesus, was the whole of Dublin on this bus?

      She tried to see past its dusty windows to the office building beyond, but could only make out the top of the doorframes. Sunlight flashed СКАЧАТЬ