# Read the first page of So Late in the Day by Claire Keegan

Read the opening of So Late in the Day by Claire Keegan free, no signup. Three stories on love, lust, and betrayal.

- Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/so-late-in-the-day-claire-keegan
- Genre: Short stories
- Year: 2023
- ISBN: 9780802160874
- Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9780802160874&s=read-page
- Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9780802160874
- Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9780802160874

## The opening

On Friday, July 29th, Dublin got the weather that was forecast. All morning, a brazen sun shone across Merrion Square, reaching onto Cathal’s desk where he was stationed by the open window. A taste of cut grass blew in and every now and then a close breeze stirred the ivy, on the ledge. When a shadow crossed, he looked out; a gulp of swallows skirmishing, high up, in camaraderie. Down on the lawns, some people were out sunbathing and there were children, and beds plump with flowers; so much of life carrying smoothly on, despite the tangle of human upsets and the knowledge of how everything must end.

Already, the day felt long. When he looked again, at the top of the screen again, it read 14:27. He wished, now, that he had gone out at lunchtime and walked as far as the canal. He could have sat on one of the benches there for a while and watched the mute swans and cygnets gobbling up the crusts and other scraps people threw down there, on the water. Without meaning to, he closed the budget distribution file he’d been working on before saving it. A flash of something not unlike contempt charged through him then, and he got up and walked down the corridor, as far as the men’s room, where there was no one, and pushed into a stall. For a while he sat on the lid, looking at the back of the door, on which nothing was written or scrawled, until he felt a bit steadier. Then he went to the basin and splashed water on his face, and slowly dried his face and hands on the paper towel which fed, automatically, from the dispenser.

On the way back to his desk, he stopped for a coffee, pressed the Americano option on the machine, and waited for it to spill down, into the cup.

It was almost ready when Cynthia, the brightly dressed woman from accounts, came in, laughing on her mobile. She paused when she saw him, and soon hung up.

‘All right there, Cathal?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Grand. You?’

‘Grand.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks for asking.’

He took up the coffee, leaving before he’d sugared it, before she could say anything more.

When he got back to his desk and looked at the top of the screen, it was 14:54. He was just reopening the file and reading over what was there and was about to compose some of the changes he would again have to make, when the boss stopped by.

The boss was a Northern man, a good ten years younger than himself, who wore designer suits and played squash at the weekends.

‘Well, Cathal. How are things?’

‘Good,’ Cathal said. ‘Thanks.’

‘Did you get a bite of lunch for yourself, something to eat?’

‘Yeah,’ Cathal said. ‘No bother.’

The boss was looking him over, taking in the usual shirt, tie and trousers, his unpolished shoes.

‘You know there’s no need to stay on,’ the boss said. ‘Why don’t you call it a day?’ He flushed a little then, seeming uneasy over the well-intentioned phrase.

‘I’m just finishing the budget outline now,’ Cathal said. ‘I’d like to get this much done.’

‘Fair enough,’ the boss said. ‘Whatever. Take her handy.’

The boss withdrew then, to his office, and Cathal heard the door softly closing.

When he looked back out, the sky was blank and blue. He took a sip of the bitter coffee and stared again at the file he hadn’t saved. It wasn’t easy to see it now, in the glare of the sunlight, so he changed the font to bold and tilted the screen.

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