‘That’s very kind of you, Conor, I’ll have a wee pint of Guinness with you, but that’s all, mind you, I don’t want to be too drunk before me speech. The daughter has me warned to be on me best behaviour!’

‘Harry Crossan, would you look at the bloody state of you?’

She had just found the on switch. Harry sat up in his stool and balanced perfectly without the assistance of his left elbow or the bar.

‘Bernadette, I didn’t think you’d be coming back. I thought….’

‘Ah, give over Harry! And come and give me a hug. I didn’t get a proper one off you last night.’

They embraced warmly as he lifted her from the floor. Cormac turned his head away to shield himself from the easy familiarity of their ritual. His two oldest friends, whom he now barely knew, whose relationship had grown and blossomed into an unbreakable affection for each other, while he merely skirted around the edge of them both.

‘What’s happening with you and our Roisin, Harry? I haven’t heard from either of you for months and I can’t get hold of her on any of the numbers I have. I came by to see if you could enlighten me or maybe give me her new number, and then I’ll be off.’

Harry glanced down at him.

‘Could you give us a minute, Cormac?’

They were both staring at him, still locked in their embrace.

‘Yes, of course, forgive me. I’ll be in the bar. Come and get me when you’re finished.’

He made his way across the busy reception area. What the hell was he thinking, standing there like a nosey neighbour gawping at them? They were family. They had important private things to talk about; things that he would never be part of; things that he’d chosen not to be part of.

He spent the next hour alone in the bar, except for the occasional grunt from John Travolta or smile from the Polish girl, who, to his increasing dismay, was working yet another shift. He occupied the time by trying to guess each song played by the wedding band, who were quite clearly caught in a time warp beginning in nineteen sixty-three and ending in nineteen seventy-nine. Harry would have been most impressed with him, as he was sure he correctly guessed all but one. Some seventies one-hit wonder.

‘I wanna kiss you all over

Over again

I wanna kiss you all over

Till the night closes in.…’

He nearly got it as the chorus continued.

‘Stay with me, lay with me

Holding me, loving me

Ba…a…aby.’

No, it was definitely gone. But he knew a man who would take great pleasure in telling him who it was. Indeed, who the lead singer was, who wrote it, and what he had for breakfast on the day in question!

He’d just volunteered ‘Dorothy Moore’ and ‘Misty Blue’ to the extremely underwhelmed barman when Harry and Bernadette approached the bar. Her eyes had rediscovered this morning’s puffiness and Harry had found his balancing ability again. Cormac spoke as they reached him.