I must stop, must concentrate. I pull into a deep curve where cars park during the day. I switch off the headlights and rest my head on the steering wheel. Jake has not yet reached the bend. His survival instincts must be stronger than mine. A minute passes before his headlights swamp the darkness and pass on. I lower the window and allow the night air to cool my cheeks. A plane flies overhead, followed by another, their lights winking towards the slow descent into Dublin airport. There’s something hypnotic about watching the lights emerge from the dark horizon and fly across my line of vision. Only an hour ago I was up there, planning what I would say to Jake, my head pounding as the time for confrontation drew nearer.

The overnight trip had been a non-stop series of business meetings, interspersed with my visit to Stuart and lunch with Ali. No one seemed aware of my inner turmoil, the furious, imaginary conversations with Jake broiling in my mind. Now, huddled in darkness, I want to throw a tantrum, fists and heels pummelling, as Sam used to do when he was small and Samantha, the calmer of the two, would work herself into the same frenzy in solidarity with her twin.

Shale, washed with waves, gleams in the moonlight. That summer in Cowrie Cottage… no… I don’t want to go there… but they come like wraiths, those memories, black cloaks flapping.

Headlights approach from the opposite side of the road. Before I can duck out of sight they dazzle and swerve in a U-turn. I stare ahead and ignore Jake when he raps on the window. He continues banging, the sound more frantic, louder.

‘Go away and leave me alone.’ I lower the window and shriek at him. ‘If you don’t I’ll ram your van onto the rocks below.’

‘For God’s sake, Nadine – ’

‘You don’t believe in God so shut up and leave me alone.’

‘I want to explain – ’

‘What’s there to explain? Go back to her and finish what you were doing when I interrupted you.’

‘I intended on telling you about her.’

‘You had your opportunity. Why couldn’t you have told me the truth?’

‘I knew you had a history with her – ’

‘A history? Is that the new name for coping with a paranoid bully?’

‘See what I mean?’

The only thing you see is her cunt. I want to scream the word at him, batter him with obscenities.

‘How long have you been together?’ I don’t want an answer yet I have to know.

‘Not long.’

‘That’s not an answer. Tell me the truth.’

‘Let me into the car and we’ll talk.’

‘No. I want the truth. Were you seeing her when I found her business card?’

‘Not then. Later. After we moved into Sea Aster.’

‘How often has she been there?’

‘Tonight was the first time. Honestly, Nadine, I never meant to hurt – ’

‘I don’t believe you.’ The thought of them together is unendurable. ‘Go away from me… go away.’ I fumble for the automatic window switch and he draws his hands back as the glass slides upwards.

When I start the engine he runs to the front of my car. Our clashing headlights distort his features. His lips move but the sound can’t reach me. When he thumps the bonnet, demanding that I listen, I keep my hand on the horn and rev the engine. I want to reduce him to pulp, to traces of DNA, nothing less.

I don’t notice the squad car until it pulls in behind me. Doors open. Two guards in uniform and hi-vis jackets approach. One of the guards speaks to Jake. The second one knocks sharply on my window.

‘Are you the owner of this vehicle?’ she asks.

My mouth is dry, my throat ticklish. She waits impassively while I cough and try to gain some control over my breathing.

‘Yes, Guard. It’s my car.’ Finally, I’m able to speak.

‘Were you the sole occupant tonight?’

‘Yes.’

I can’t stop staring at the wart on her chin. A fine clump of hairs grow from its centre. Has she never heard of electrolysis? Doesn’t she care that potential criminals will stare? I’ve a wild desire to laugh. It’s safer than keening. I avert my eyes from the offending wart and concentrate on her face. She has a thin, straight mouth that suggests a low level of tolerance for demented drivers. I display my driving licence and her torch forms an arc as it sweeps over the tax disc. The registration plate is checked, as are the tyres and exhaust. If she asks me to walk a straight line I’ll stagger and probably have to be breathalysed.

‘A car answering this description almost caused an accident under the back estuary bridge.’ She returns to the window. ‘We also had a report about a similar car driving in an erratic manner along Coast Road.’ She turns the pages of her notebook and squints at her handwriting. ‘And, just now, you blatantly disturbed the peace by blowing your horn after hours.’

‘I’m sorry, Guard. I’d no idea I was breaking the speed limit.’

‘What is the speed limit through Malahide Village?’

‘Fifty kilometres, I think.’

‘You shouldn’t think. You should know.’ She removes a breathalyser kit from the squad car and orders me to blow into it.

‘Zero.’ She sounds dubious as she checks the reading for the second time

Jake is receiving the same grilling from the other guard. How ridiculous he looks in his boxer shorts. His feet are bare. I hope the pebbles cut his flesh to the bone.

The guard can’t find anything wrong with my car. She delivers a lecture on dangerous driving that could not only end my life but those who are unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Like my mother, innocently driving home from the supermarket and finding herself face-to-face with that truck driver. My tears blind me. She removes a box of tissues from the squad car and hands it to me, waits until I blow my nose before continuing to lecture me.

‘You’ve disturbed the peace, broken the speed limit and driven dangerously through a bridge that only allows one-way traffic. You’ll be hearing from us again, Nadine.’

How dare she call me by my first name? I understand why Eleanor berated that young doctor for patronising her. But what should this guard call me? Mrs Saunders? No, never again will I use that name.

Jake is free to go, no charges pending, no breathalyser. My hope that he drank at least a bottle of wine tonight and is put away for life is thwarted. This is a domestic incident and the police are already losing interest.

‘You’re in an extremely distressed state.’ The guard’s voice softens a little. ‘I suggest you lock your car and allow your husband to drive you home.’

‘I have no home.’ I grind out the words. ‘It’s been violated. I’d prefer to spend the night in handcuffs than go back there again.’

‘We can do that if you insist,’ she snaps. I must have imagined the softening. ‘But an easier option would be to take a taxi to your intended destination. Do not under any circumstances attempt to drive this vehicle tonight.’

I lock my car and hail an approaching taxi. The driver, seeing the squad car, indicates and brakes.

‘Where to?’ he asks when I collapse into the back seat.

‘Stoneybatter.’ I close my eyes and shut out the tableau, Jake, the two guards, my abandoned car, the last wrecked vestiges of my marriage.

‘Were you driving over the limit?’ The driver meets my gaze in the rear-view mirror. What must I look like, flushed, my hair wild, my face blotched from weeping?

‘I was driving over the limit of my tolerance,’ I reply. ‘Not to be recommended.’

Donal, my kind, quiet uncle, is the most uncurious man I know. He doesn’t question why his niece should phone him late at night and request a spare bed. He’s waiting for me when I arrive in Stoneybatter, the fare ready for the taxi driver, a pot of tea brewing. He carries the tray into his small living room where two large porcelain dogs sit like sentinels on either side of the fireplace. When I stop shivering and the tea has cooled in my hands, he suggests I try to sleep.