“Indeed,” Maisie’d reply, “we have you to thank for introducing us.”

“It was dear bought, Missus,” Matti would laugh, and raise his right hand to display the small worsted piece of flesh that did him as a middle finger.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Thus they treated each other as neighbours. At the RUC station, though, for the few weeks he worked there, the two men never spoke. And they never spoke at all of sex, except in jest. So, at a deeper level, where a man might contemplate death, they remained complete strangers to each other. Instead, they spoke of the backwardness of the Catholic South. They made jokes about the huge families of Catholic Northerners.

“I’m past it now,” Matti would say. “You’ll have no threat from me in that quarter.”

They spoke of how classless the North was. Homes would be built for everyone, it would all be sorted out. He could recall Matti agreeing, nodding, then he’d look away. But two things that were never mentioned were suicide and Sergeant Adams’ part in the doings on Duke Street. For a few weeks after the news programme that made him such a figure of scorn, Jonathan Adams did not visit Matti Bonner. In fact he feared that Matti might set him up. Meanwhile an enquiry into the televised account of Duke Street took place in Enniskillen. The old policemen from throughout the province gathered. Like criminals they waited to be called in. There was talk of losing seniority, of sackings, of loss of pensions.

Jonathan Adams, distraught and angry, was led into an office where a young English officer and his Northern Ireland superior from the Police Authority awaited him. They shook hands.

“I’m sure you have your own reasons for what took place, Sergeant Adams,” the Englishman began.

“I have.”

“I shan’t bother going into them now.”

“We were led to believe we were dealing with the IRA.”

“IRA or not, Sergeant Adams, we can’t afford to have displays of police violence on the television screens of these islands. I’m sure you are aware of that.”

“I was not aware of the television’s presence there, sir.”

“They were there, and they will be there from now on. They have been given by you a veritable feast of police violence.” He felt the back of his neck. “Things will be different from now on, Sergeant Adams. You may have enjoyed years of isolation to assert your prejudices, but those days are over.”

“I take great exception to your suggestion.”

“You are not only representing the police, may I remind you, Sergeant, you are representing the Protestant people as well.”

Jonathan Adams lifted a humiliated eye towards his superior.

“I take it this was an isolated incident.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I would like you to read this carefully.”

“Thank you.”