I said, “That didn’t bother Pat?”

“Jenny dancing with Mac?” He almost laughed. “Nah. Mac was a year younger. Fat kid with bad hair. And anyway, Pat knew what Jenny was doing. I’d say he just loved her more for doing it.”

That softness had seeped into his voice. It sounded like a lover’s, a voice for low light and drifting music, for only one listener. Fiona and Shona had been right.

I said, “Sounds like a good relationship.”

Conor said simply, “They were beautiful. Only word for it. You know when you’re a teenager, a lot of the time it feels like the whole world is shite? The two of them’d give you hope.”

“That’s lovely,” I said. “Really, it is.”

Richie had started playing with the sugar sachet again. “You went out with Jenny’s sister Fiona, yeah? When you were, what, eighteen?”

“Yeah. For a few months, only.”

“Why’d you break up?”

Conor shrugged. “It wasn’t working out.”

“Why not? She was a geebag? You had nothing in common? She wouldn’t do the do?”

“No. She was the one that broke it off. Fiona’s great. We got on great. It just wasn’t working out.”

“Yeah, well,” Richie said dryly, catching the sugar, “I can see where it wouldn’t. If you were in love with her sister.”

Conor went still. “Who said that?”

“Who cares?”

“I care. Because they’re full of shite.”

“Conor,” I said, warning. “Remember our deal?”

He looked like he wanted to kick both of our teeth in, but after a moment he said, “It wasn’t the way you make it sound.”

And if that wasn’t a motive then at least, at the very least, it was only one step away. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over at Richie, but he had thrown the sugar too far and was lunging for it. “Yeah?” he wanted to know. “How do I make it sound?”

“Like I was some dirtbag trying to get between the two of them. I wasn’t. If I could’ve pushed a button and split them up, I would never have done it. Anything else, what I felt: that was my business.”

“Maybe,” I said. I was pleased with the sound of my voice, lazy, amused. “Up until Jenny found out, anyway. She did find out, didn’t she?”

Conor had reddened. After all these years, this should have healed over. “I never said a word to her.”

“You didn’t need to. Jenny guessed. Women do, old son. How did she feel about it?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

“Did she give you the old brush-off? Or did she enjoy the attention, lead you on? Ever have a little kiss and a cuddle, when Pat wasn’t looking?”

Conor’s fists were clenched on the table. “No. I told you, Pat was my best mate. I told you what the two of them were like together. You think either of us, me or Jenny, would ever have done that?”

I laughed out loud. “Oh, God, yeah. I’ve been a teenage bloke myself. I’d have sold my own mother downriver for a bit of tit.”