There was a sense of contentment on Jenny’s face as the desserts were presented – a chocolate brownie with walnuts for her and an orange cake for me. The cake was slightly bitter, perhaps the chef had over-grated the rind because it is underneath the pith wherein the bitterness lies. The tartness was overridden with a sweet orange liqueur that was delicious. We offered each other bites of each other’s dessert and the sharing was deeply satisfying.

I sat back and looked at Jenny and I listened to her. I listened to someone like I never had before. There’s hearing and there’s listening and this was listening. It was only a matter of time before we met, this is what I believed. I heard every word she said, how she had found art. I said that there was art everywhere, you had to look for it. She admitted she was sad she had finished with art college because she felt there was so much more to learn and I assured her she could learn about these other things through living.

I was happy to listen to her the way I could listen to the grasshoppers seemingly singing, in Spain, under the intensity of the sun. I loved the way they could cease abruptly as if taking a breath. That was the last real holiday I remember with my brother and my parents. That sensation of enjoying the here and now of it. My mother told Dad to stop worrying about the shop, that Ciaráin, the manager, was well capable and that Dad should enjoy the time away. That was the first time I’d experienced the very notion of having to enjoy yourself, that this ability wasn’t something innate.

It was almost as if Jenny was giving away too much of herself. I wanted to encourage her to keep talking so I kept myself locked in and I thought about the stoppage of the crickets, how I only noticed the peace and the quiet of my surroundings in the moment after they had ceased chattering. It was the way I felt after swimming in the sea. It was only afterwards, standing on the rough stones thinking that life cannot get any better, it was only then I could hear the sound of the waves crashing.

I wanted to become a father. That was the thought that struck me in the restaurant with Jenny that night, beautiful Jenny – scraping the last bit of her brownie and running her finger along the plate for the last dash of cream – I knew then that having children with her would complete me.

9. Contentment

August 1995

Jenny made me feel as if the sun shone on everything, warm and balmy and comfortable on my skin. I had better emotional leverage. Happiness was a word that I finally knew the true meaning of. I was there.