Sheena wrote it down with a quizzical frown and turned to Bernadette.

‘Usual, Bernie?’

‘That’ll be great, and could we have some extra chips with that?’

Chips! They do chips! They can be discreetly placed in the pittas to make posh chip butties! That’s something, at least!

‘What are you thinking, Cormac?’

About making chip butties with your chips and my pittas, actually!

‘Oh … nothing really - just what a nice little place this is and how friendly Sheena is, that sort of thing.’

She leaned back in her chair.

‘Some things in life still amaze me, Cormac.’

‘Oh? What’s that, then?’

‘Cormac O’Reilly the vegetarian! I’d never have thought that, not in a million years!’

He leaned forward and pointed an accusing finger.

‘I’m not a vegetarian! You’re the one who brought me here!’

‘Yeah … they do the best lamb curry in all of Ireland and I had a recollection of you dragging me to some Indian restaurant on the Lisburn road once a fortnight for a whole year!’

She turned his menu over so he could see the full range of meat, poultry, and fish dishes Sheena had to offer.

‘So you’re not a vegetarian?’

‘No, I’m not a vegetarian, Cormac. Anything else?’

‘Are you a serial protestor?’

‘No, though I’ve been to the occasional one when I was at university, but mainly for the free alcohol afterwards! Next question?’

‘Have you ever….? No, it doesn’t matter!’

She leaned across the table so her hands were nearly touching his.

‘No Cormac, I’ve never been a lesbian either! And I can’t believe you are still doing that after all these years.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Making sweeping judgements about people based on a two-second glimpse of their lives.’

‘It usually works quite well.’

‘No, Cormac, it doesn’t work well at all! You only think it does because you never get to find out what the people are actually all about, or who the hell they are, you never stop to actually ask them. You assume that your stupid stereotyping is correct and they are what you think they are!’

He was enjoying her mock consternation. She was in full flow.

‘Take Sheena, for instance. Tell me what you think of Sheena?’

He let her have it.

‘Second marriage, no kids, smokes a bit of dope, likes the odd protest, has at least two tattoos, has had at least one nervous breakdown, been to Jamaica once, and currently has a boyfriend as well as her husband!’

She laughed so loudly she brought the staff out of the kitchen.

‘Jesus, Cormac! You really are some piece of work! Sheena, up until last year, was the foremost neurosurgeon in Dublin. She’s been married to John, also a surgeon, for eighteen years. They have three children, one of whom has severe disabilities, which is why Sheena gave up her post and now only works in this, her sister’s restaurant, one day a week. As far as I’m aware, she has no tattoos, doesn’t smoke dope, and has never had a boyfriend or a breakdown, in all the time she has been married. She has, I’ll grant you, been to Jamaica on more than one occasion, so I suppose I should say well done for that one, Sherlock! What do you have to say about that?’