Free The Heather Blazing by Colm Tóibín

let his mind wander he could see his father’s shadow correcting examination papers at the table in the corner of the garden, and the sudden gust of wind and the papers blowing as the rain began and the blotched writing becoming indecipherable. The long evenings in the house in the days before he and Carmel made the windows larger and put on a slate roof. The people moving as shadows; the cards on the table; the slow gestures as Mrs. Cullen went over to the wall and lit the lamp; the room lighting up.
    He stood and walked into the bedroom and put on his togs and then his dressing-gown and a pair of sandals. He stood at the front door for a few moments and took in the sun. Carmel was in the garden. Once outside, he noticed that the airwas brisk; it would take another hour or two for the day to become really warm. He took a towel which had been drying on a bush and walked down towards the cliff, hoping that he would meet no one. Some of the locals were working on a field of hay over the brow of the hill; the fields bordering the cliff had already been cut, and a green-tinged stubble had been left behind.
    There was no wind, but there was still a faint dew on the grass. He put the towel down on the edge of the cliff and sat down. The sea was a light green with patches of a darker green and further out patches of blue. He watched the waves as they rolled in and quietly broke near the shore.
    He made his way down to the strand where it was warmer, more sheltered. He took off his sandals and dressing-gown and walked towards the water shivering as he put his feet into the cold sea. Maybe he should have waited. He stood there for a while before walking back to where his things lay. It was peaceful; he listened for the sound of the combine-harvester at work, but it was too distant, or else they had stopped working. He put his hands behind his head and turned his head around from side to side as though he was doing exercises to relieve the tension in his neck. He did it until he was tired and hot. Now, he could try the sea again. He walked down, determined not to stop even to test the water. He waded in, ignoring the splash from an oncoming wave, then stopped and dived in, swimming out as fast as he could, letting the shock of cold run through him. He lay back in the water and looked down the coast, noticing how sharp and clear everything now was in the early light. He tried not to think about the cold.
    Carmel was still working in the garden when he came back to the house.
    â€œThe postman’s been,” she said as she stood up, a small shovel still in her hand. “He’s that small friendly man. He hasn’t been here for a while. He had a big package for youwhich I had him leave on the table. He wants to talk to you about becoming permanent. He asked me about it last year too, one day when you weren’t here. He says he’s done the Irish exam but they still won’t make him permanent.”
    â€œDoes he think I run the Post Office?” he asked.
    â€œHe thinks that you have pull,” she said.
    The envelope had a government stamp. It contained the previous year’s Law Reports in booklet form. His own judgment on the health case should be in one of them. He checked through to make sure it was there, and came across several other judgments he had made during the year. He went into the bedroom and dressed himself, and then took a deckchair and a small table into the garden and began going through the Law Reports. After a while, as he read, he realized that he wanted to mark certain passages so he went inside and found a biro. He became engrossed in what he read, and he left notes, interjections, exclamation marks and question marks in the margin with the biro.
    It was difficult, particularly in the Supreme Court judgments, but also in some of the High Court rulings, not to see the personal politics coming through even in the most balanced decisions. He enjoyed the signs of this and derived