I waited for her to come back with the drinks and after a while I got fed up so I headed over to the bar myself. I saw Jenny standing with her back to me. She was talking to some guy and she was laughing and flicking her hair with her fingers. She was talking to a bloke, no big deal. I called her name. She didn’t respond. I called her again and they both turned to me.

I would recognize Jerome Fagan anywhere, even though I’d only met him the one time at the Crown.

The roof of my mouth felt dry despite all the booze I’d consumed. Jerome fucking Fagan, what were the chances? I tried to pass it off. Dublin was such a small shitty place then. It wasn’t Jenny’s fault that she’d run into her ex at the bar. It was her fault, however, that she’d stayed talking to him for ages when she could have been with me. I started to walk away. I turned around and for a split second I thought that perhaps Jenny wasn’t going to come with me. She said something to Jerome and then she came with me. I stopped and turned to her and I kissed her heavily on her lips, and I sensed that Jerome witnessed this kiss. That was what I desired.

She laughed and I felt better for it and everything was back on track. We were having a blast. We stayed on for a while: dancing and talking as best we could over the noise, and I kept Jenny away from the bar for the duration by insisting that she had bought one drink for me and that it was one too many. She was my girlfriend and it was my job to look after her. Meeting Jerome like that had put a bad taste in my mouth and after a couple more tunes I suggested that we leave. The place was beginning to wreck my head and I felt suddenly focused on getting Jenny home.