‘I’m sorry; it is Cormac O’Reilly MP, isn’t it? Or should I say former MP? It’s just your face was plastered all over the papers and the TV back home in the summer. Mind, you do look a bit thinner up close.’

Journey stopped and The Rolling Stones started. That, and the warm handshake from the long-haired barman, with’100% Irish’ splashed across his green T-shirt, convinced him staying for one drink wouldn’t do any harm.The beer was cold and sharp and the music got better and louder. The crowd dwindled to just two or three hardy souls in the booth nearest the door. Cormac sat at the end of the bar, furthest from the door, whilst Mick stood directly opposite, firing question after question at him about last summer’s events. When he had completely exhausted his repertoire and fell silent for a brief interlude, Cormac decided it was his turn.

‘The three people who were here earlier, two men and a woman, they came in about 6:15, do you see them much in here?’

He didn’t pause to consider.

‘Oh, you mean Danny, Paul, and Bernadette?’

Cormac nodded for him to continue.

‘They come in every night at the same time and then Danny and Bernadette leave after one drink. Paul stays for another and his wife picks him up about ten minutes later. They’re all writers and Bernie is a bit of a singer by all accounts. They’re a nice crew.’

Cormac shifted in his seat and asked a question he didn’t want to know the answer to.

‘Are Danny and Bernadette a couple, then?’

‘I’d say they are, sort of.’

Cormac felt a gentle pounding in his head, but persevered.

‘What do you mean, sort of?’

‘Well, they live together somewhere around here.’

Cormac put his hand to his face to hold his sagging mouth in position. He knew he shouldn’t have asked, yet he needed to know.

‘They share an apartment because they couldn’t afford to rent on their own this close to work.’

‘So they’re not a couple, then?’

Mick laughed.

‘Not as far as I’m aware. Danny has a boyfriend upstate he spends weekends with and Bernie is divorced or in the process of it anyway.’

Cormac had already leaned across the bar and kissed him on the forehead before he had finished the sentence.

‘Are you in the mood to help an old man with a twenty-two year problem?’

He raised his hand and Cormac felt obliged to slap it, but not before checking to see if anyone was watching.

‘I’m only too happy to help a fellow Irishmen in distress. What did you have in mind?’

Cormac pointed to the wall of CDs behind his head.

‘Can I have a look at your record collection?’

46

He stood outside and checked his watch. He had one minute to wait. He’d spent an agonisingly sleepless night and a restless day at Harry’s place. He’d thought about taking in the sights of the city but couldn’t bring himself to do anything except pace up and down the living room. Instead, he’d walked back and forth and studied his watch, which on several occasions he’d brought impatiently to his ear to make sure it was still working. He looked at the watch again. It was time!