‘Cormac, I’ve a very important question to ask you. Now think very carefully before you answer, my friend, there’s a lot at stake here.’

The glazed look in Harry’s eyes revealed he hadn’t been partaking of orange juice along with Annie this morning, certainly not without the addition of a vodka or two in it.

‘What’s at stake, Harry? And what time did you leave the girls at? I thought you were staying with them until six o’clock.’

Harry eventually steadied himself on his stool and positioned his elbow on the bar, just in case.

‘There’s a hundred Euros at stake and I left the girls at two. Sorry, that is not correct; they left me at two. I was beginning to cramp their style with the young suitors that were gathering, know what I mean?’

Harry’s elbow momentarily slipped off the bar. He recovered well by bouncing his shoulder off the brass rail and returning to some form of equilibrium. Cormac suppressed the rising fear that always gripped him at the thought of Annie becoming a woman and instead concentrated on ending Harry’s dispute with Dermot. Dermot, by this time, was in possession of another half-drunk pint of Guinness and a thick creamy moustache, which filled the entire space between his thin lips and fat nose. To say he was unsteady on his feet would not be technically correct. His feet, as far as Cormac could ascertain, remained the only thing solid in his entire body. He was in perpetual motion! So much so that Cormac found himself preparing to catch his bulky frame on at least three occasions, for fear he would land on the tiny grey-haired woman who stood behind him nursing a large tumbler of whiskey. She looked so familiar that Cormac found himself scanning the room on the off chance Poppet was about to finish the job she started so well this morning!

‘Harry, what’s the question?’

‘What?’

‘The question … you know … the important question that had you two at each other’s throats when I came in?’

‘Ah the question … yes … the question is….’

He looked at Cormac and then at Dermot.

‘The question, my friend, is this….’

He froze as if someone had pressed the pause button.

‘Harry, what was the fucking question that was so important ten minutes ago?’

His eyes were closed, as if he’d just been switched off.

Cormac turned to Dermot, who at first appeared like he’d shrunk during the course of the conversation. He realised he’d merely widened his stance to give himself a bit more purchase on the floor. It had worked to some degree, as the little woman with the foul mouth and comparable temper was no longer under any immediate threat.

‘Don’t suppose you know the question, Dermot?’

‘What?’

‘You don’t happen to know the question you were arguing with my friend about?’

‘What question would that be, then?’

‘The ques… Oh it doesn’t matter… can I get you a drink there, Dermot?’