‘I’m sorry about that, Cormac, but just a couple of observations from a wise old man. If she agreed to meet you, and has stayed for any length of time with you, forget whatever she says, she most definitely likes you. Another thing, if she is married and likes you, tread very carefully, young man, as better men than you have been brought to their knees by less. I suggest you take her for a stroll up O’ Connell Street. At the top end, pause for a while at old Charles Stuart Parnell’s statue, who in my opinion remains the greatest statesmen your little island has ever produced. He lost it all, Cormac, for his love of a married woman, for the love of his Kitty. See you Friday.’

24

During the prime minister’s bit of fun at his expense, Cormac had drunk three cups of strong coffee provided by the surly Greek man who appeared, as if by magic, from behind the hole in the wall at regular intervals. Cormac suspected his host’s mood was not helped by his refusal to purchase one of the dubious-looking cakes he was encouraged to partake of, on each of his visits to the table. Now he had another hour and a half to sit in a place he was not wanted with his head pounding and pulse racing from the overdose of caffeine he’d just been force fed.

He thought about strolling down the wide expanse of O’ Connell Street to his left. He could glimpse the impressive bust of Daniel O’Connell, the Great Liberator, from where he was seated. The throbbing in his foot, which began the moment he rose from his seat, put paid to any thoughts of moving, no matter how distressing that would be for his tormentor, who was now vociferously shaking his head behind his little window.

He called Annie instead.

He called again. The noise on the other end of the phone caused him to swiftly remove the phone from his ear.

‘Annie, can you hear me? Annie, it’s Dad, can you hear me?’

She hung up. He was just about to ring again when her name flashed across his screen.

‘Hi Dad, sorry about that - I couldn’t hear a thing in there, it’s absolutely jumping! Anyway, how’s your date with Bernadette progressing? I’m guessing by the fact you’re ringing me she hasn’t exactly succumbed to the old O’Reilly charms? He looked at his watch. 11:30. 11:30 and Harry already has her in a pub!

‘It’s not a date, and no, I think it’s pretty safe to say she’s fairly bullet-proofed as far as the O’Reilly charms go. Anyway, what are you doing in a pub at 11:30 in the morning?

He heard her loud sigh at his end of the line.

‘Dad, sometimes I think you were never my age. I think you just popped out of the womb wearing a pinstriped suit, grey hair, and a frown! I’m in the pub because that’s what people do on the day of a gig. You know, soak up the atmosphere, and build the tension with other excited people who want to do the same thing. Do you remember when you last went to a gig? Isn’t that what you did?’