“It was raining and the halyards were clanging off the aluminium masts on every boat in the marina.He lay in bed for a long time and thought about the forty thousand quid he had made in the New York trip. Rent on this place for two years or mortgage payment on the apartments for four months. Either way it was sweet.And there was more money coming.A fifty-thousand-pound retainer.Four hundred and fifty for finding some wee lassie on the mitch. A wee lassie and bairns.He lay and the longer he lay t...here the more claustrophobic he felt.He sat up, walked to the window and swung it open. Gulped the sea air.Sometimes the house felt a prison. Every house he had ever stayed in had, at times, felt like a prison.But he couldn’t go back to a caravan, not now, not ever.He stared through the open window at the rain and the boats in the marina and Carrickfergus Castle which was a grey presence through the mist.Nah, he couldn’t go back to tinker life and he was trying to leave The Life too. Would leave The Life after this.The rain was pouring on his head.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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