He looked at Harry, who had obviously found the secret for defeating the hotel anti-sleep brigade. He tried to remember the last time they had shared a room together. His thoughts turned to the day, or night, rather, he became convinced that Harry was to be his best friend, to the exclusion of all others. The night he knew he could trust Harry above anybody else. Until that night, it had always been the three musketeers, Cormac, Harry and Liam. They’d all been selected to attend residential trials for the Belfast District under-11s football team. It was a time of great celebration in Killane.

The village rejoicing was a little premature, as none of them made the team. Harry, who was a goalkeeper, had tight curly hair, and the letters ‘PS’ especially stitched into his shirt in honour of his hero at the time, Peter Shilton. Unfortunately for Harry, that was where the similarities ended. And in the days before political correctness destroyed the art of the PE teacher put-down, he was told:

‘Son, my granny could have done better than you today. And she’s been dead a year!’

Cormac was a centre forward who didn’t manage to score in any of the four matches played over two days. The boy that was chosen instead of him scored 17; 9 of them in the same match he and Cormac were playing in! Liam, who was a tough tackling midfielder, and had all but been informed he’d been selected, got sent off, and then subsequently sent home, for telling the referee to ‘fuck off back to England’ after he detected a hint of an accent before the kick off in the final game.

Cormac’s abiding memory of the event was that it entailed a one-night stopover at Jordanstown Polytechnic halls of residence. It was to be the first time he’d ever stayed away from home. Like the other boys, he was very excited at the prospect, as it was an obvious indicator he was now a grown up who could stay away from his parents’ house for a whole night. The sense of excitement lasted right up until he was shown his room, which was one of six in a hallway with a little kitchen at the end of the corridor. The walls of his room were covered from top to bottom with the most hideous of ghoulish paintings. If his sense of excitement waned at this point, it transformed itself into complete and utter terror after the lights went out at bedtime. He lay staring at the twisted faces on the wall until he convinced himself they were not only moving but closing in all around him. He was sure if he didn’t make his move and get out as quickly as he could, he may never be seen alive again! Without attempting to switch the light on, he made a dash for the door, wearing nothing but his new Superman underpants his mother had bought him for the trip. After a moment of blind terror, when he couldn’t turn the lock and at the same time he could have sworn he felt a breath against his neck, he was out in the dark corridor. He knocked gently on Harry’s door. To his great relief, he heard Harry’s footsteps on the other side.