“Like my lot,” Richie said, nodding. “Baby shite and curtains.”

“Yeah. At first they could get a babysitter and come for a few pints, so at least we saw them, but once they moved out to Brianstown … I’m not sure they really wanted to come out, anyway. They were busy doing the family thing, and they wanted to do it right; they weren’t into getting pissed in pubs and falling home at three in the morning, not any more. They invited us around all the time, but the distance, and with everyone working long hours …”

“Nobody could make it. Been there. When was the last time they invited you, do you remember?”

“Months ago. May, June. After all the times I couldn’t make it, Jenny kind of gave up.” Fiona’s hands were starting to clench around her mug. “I should’ve made more of an effort.”

Richie shook his head easily. “No reason why you should’ve. You were doing your thing, they were doing theirs, everyone was well and happy—they were happy, yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, the last few months they were worried about money, but they knew they’d be OK in the end. Jenny said it to me a couple of times, that she wasn’t going to let herself get all hyper because she knew they’d come out all right somehow or other.”

“And you figured she was right?”

“I actually did, yeah. That’s what Jenny’s like: things do work out for her. Some people, they’re just good at life. They do it right, without even thinking about it. Jenny always had the knack.”

For a flash I saw Geri in her savory-smelling kitchen, examining Colm’s homework and laughing at Phil’s joke and keeping an eye on the ball that Andrea was batting around; and then Dina, wild-haired and claw-fingered, fighting me for no reason she could ever have named. I managed not to look at my watch. “I know what you mean,” I said. “I would have envied that. Did you?”

Fiona thought about that, wrapping hair around her finger. “When we were younger, maybe. Probably. You know when you’re teenagers, no one has a clue what they’re at? Jenny and Pat always knew what they were doing. Probably that was one of the reasons I went out with Conor—I was hoping if I did the same stuff Jenny did, I’d be like that. Certain about stuff. I would’ve liked that.” She unspiraled the lock of hair and examined it, twisting it to catch and lose the light. Her nails were bitten down to the quick. “But once we grew up … no. I didn’t want Jenny’s life: working in PR, getting married that early, having kids straightaway—none of that. Sometimes I kind of wished I wanted it, though. It would’ve made life a lot simpler. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely,” I said. Actually it sounded like some teenager’s whine, I wish I could do things the normal way but I’m just too special, but I kept the zap of irritation to myself. “What about the designer gear, though? The expensive holidays? That must have stung, watching Jenny enjoy all that while you were stuck sharing a flat and counting your pennies.”