Herlighy showed no surprise at Minogue's request. He followed Minogue out of the office.
"I'll be back within the hour, Mrs Sullivan," Herlighy said as he passed the receptionist. There was no one in the waiting-room.
"You're sure I'm not inconveniencing you, now," Minogue said as he grasped the hall door handle.
"Not a bit of it," Herlighy replied lightly. "I've been cooped up inside all day. Pardon the expression. Glad of a bit of fresh air, such as it is here."
Minogue pulled the heavy door open. The brass plaque on the door caught his eye as the wan afternoon light moved across it. Dr Sean Herlighy in black, the brass clear and polished. No mention of Herlighy's stock-in-trade, psychiatry, Minogue mused again.
Minogue paused before descending the half-dozen steps to the footpath. He looked out on Merrion Square ahead. Two days of wind and rain had left the trees bare of leaves.
"Hold on a minute," he heard Herlighy from behind. "I forgot my cigarettes."
Minogue leaned against the railing and looked down the terrace. Merrion Square was still a showpiece of Georgian architecture. Railings everywhere, granite edges to the steps, the wide doors with fanlights above. The rain had left the tree-trunks blackened. Cars hissed by on the roadway. The grass inside the Square would be completely sodden, Minogue calculated vacantly. Stick to the paths.
Herlighy had a lighted cigarette in his hand when he opened the door. The two men crossed the street and headed for the pedestrian gate. Minogue felt his nervousness as something unnecessary, a leftover from the anticipation which still clung to his thoughts even now beside Herlighy. They entered the Square. They had the place to themselves.
"I half thought of slipping into the National Gallery beyond and having a cup of coffee or the like," said Minogue.
"That'd be grand too," Herlighy said neutrally.
"Ah but I'd spend the day there looking at the pictures, I don't doubt."
Herlighy smiled tightly and blew out a thin stream of smoke. They walked slowly on the gravel path. Herlighy seemed to be studying the path ahead of him. Minogue knew it was up to him to start.
"So I was thinking I'd like to postpone things awhile," he began. "Wait and see^hat way the cat jumps, do you see."
"The sessions we have?" said Herlighy.
"Yes. What I mean is that… I think I'd like to try out things for myself now," Minogue added quietly.
"I understand," Herlighy said after a pause. "If you say you are ready, that's fine by me."
"You're not going to be idle now that I'm taking a break from the sessions, I hope," said Minogue.
"There's always plenty of work in my line," replied Herlighy.
"It's not that I didn't get a great deal of value out of our… you know," Minogue looked to Herlighy.
"Our chats."
"Our chats. I got a great deal of good out of them, yes indeed…"
"Are you staying on in the job, so?"
"If you had have asked me that two weeks ago, I would have said no. I don't think I would have even gone back to Vehicles."
Herlighy stopped and glanced at Minogue.
"You had offers of doing something away from the front-line, I remember. Crime prevention, a bit of training for in-service or new recruits…?"
"Ah, I'd be bored stiff with that stuff, I have to admit," Minogue shrugged.
"Tell me why you're staying on, then."
Minogue blinked. He looked beyond Herlighy to the dripping trees. Were psychiatrists supposed to be this direct? A test?
"I haven't quite worked it out completely but… I didn't want to throw in the towel because of what happened. What you explained about trauma was very good, you see. I got so as I knew what was happening better. It's more like I don't want to be sitting at home watching the news, being able to switch off the telly or change the station if I don't like what I see… It's hard to express, you see…"
Herlighy nodded once and began walking again.
"I don't want something like this happening again, I suppose you could say," Minogue added. "I wish I could…"
"About Agnes McGuire, you mean?" asked Herlighy without slowing his stride.
Minogue felt the tightness close on his chest again, he drew a deep breath. The air was full of the dank smell of rotting leaves.
"Yes," said Minogue hoarsely.
He stopped walking. Herlighy sensed he was walking on alone now and he turned. Minogue was standing with his hands deep in his coat pockets, staring out over the wet lawns. Herlighy took a long drag on his cigarette. He thought of some of the comments he had written in Minogue's file after the first sessions. An overly sensitive cop, caretaker personality quite dominant. Herlighy had been pessimistic at the start. A bogman, this cop, plainly out of place in this fraying city.
He walked over to Minogue.
"You'll be trying again then, Matt. Is that how I should write it in me file?"
Minogue searched Herlighy's face for any humour.
"You know that I can sign you for the full disability. There'd be no problem in the world in you getting the full salary until you qualify for the pension at retirement age," Herlighy added. "Have you considered that aspect?"
Minogue didn't reply immediately.
"I'd still like to keep on at the job," Minogue murmured. "If they'll let me."
It was Minogue who started down the path first this time. Herlighy flicked the cigarette butt into the grass and followed him. Minogue seemed to be more relaxed now as he walked next to the psychiatrist.
"I don't need to tell you that you're welcome to stop by anytime," said Herlighy.
"Thanks very much."
Herlighy reached for the packet of cigarettes again. Minogue stopped when he heard the scratch of Herlighy's lighter. Herlighy eyed his patient over his cupped hands as he flicked at the lighter again. Minogue's gage was straying out over the acres of grass again. Gone already, thought Herlighy. The gas ignited this time and Herlighy tasted the first papery burn of the smoke. He caught up with Minogue.
"Did I tell you that Kathleen and myself are going to steal away to Paris for a little holiday?"
"Paris?" asked Herlighy. "Why Paris?"
Minogue smiled and scratched behind one ear.
"Oh there's a sort of a story to it… do you want to…?"
Herlighy said he did. They walked on under the trees, Herlighy silent, listening to Minogue.
When tired, Herlighy often had an image of himself sitting in his office here in a country on the periphery of Europe, trying to sort out the Byzantine web of sophistry and evasion. Sometimes he had to remind himself that he, Herlighy, was searching, himself. He wondered if Minogue would visit again. Herlighy put the packet of cigarettes back in his pocket. So Minogue was ready for more. More what? Another drag on the cigarette reminded him of his envy.