‘No. Just a family thing,’ she answers, cagey. ‘He’ll be back soon.’

‘Well, perhaps you might convey my apology to him when he returns.’

‘I’ll tell him.’

‘Thank you.’ He smiles and nods, aware that she’s waiting for him to go. But instead of turning and making his way back up the steps to the lifeless rooms of his home, he lingers. It’s been such a long time since he’s spoken to a woman like this – he’s not quite ready for the encounter to end. His eyes flicker over her, coming to rest on her legs. There is a plaster on one of her shins and he gestures to it now. ‘Your leg. Is it all right?’

She glances down, then back at him, a guarded expression on her face. ‘Yes. It’s fine. I cut it in the garden.’

‘I’m so sorry. I hope the cut didn’t go too deep. The rust –’

‘It’s fine, really. It was just an accident.’

She shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, something prickly and defensive about her stance, and he wonders whether he should have said anything about the rust, worrying that he’s crossed a line.

‘And how are you settling in, otherwise?’ he asks her, anxious to change the subject. ‘Everything to your satisfaction?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she says, and there, a little twitch of a smile. A glimmering of an opening. ‘It’s great. We’re delighted, and grateful.’

‘Good. Good. Nice to have young people living here again. Such a shame for it to be locked up, unused.’

‘It’s a lovely house,’ she offers, her eyes coasting up towards the rooms above.

Has she wondered about those spaces? Have her thoughts been scouring the rooms he occupies? ‘We bought it in 1990, my wife and I. Before our children were born. Back then, Dún Laoghaire was quite different. A big drug problem. Very down at heel. Half the houses on this street were full of bedsits. Not like today.’ He shakes his head, acts a little baffled. ‘When I hear what people today have to pay just to rent in this area, it makes my eyes water.’

He gives her a benign smile, but the implication is there – the favourable rent – and the same thoughts flicker visibly across her face.

‘Yes, I know. That’s why we’re so grateful.’

‘Oh, not at all.’ He flaps away her gratitude. ‘Well, I should leave you to your evening. No doubt your young man will be back soon and you can enjoy finishing the wine together.’ He indicates the half-empty bottle, turns as if to leave, then looks back, and adds: ‘You know, I think I might take your cue. Go upstairs now and pour myself a glass. I could do with it after the day I’ve had.’

‘Oh?’

Her attention is caught, as he knew it would be.