‘Not long now,’ I said.

‘Smells great,’ Davy said. ‘You’re listening to Gillian. Things must be bad, so, are they?’

‘Yeah, kinda bad all right. Change the music if you want?’

‘Nah, Gillian’s good.’

Spending time with me meant that Davy inevitably heard a lot of Americana and country music. He tried to like it, though he didn’t get rhinestones and dog songs and Tammy Wynette. And he definitely didn’t get Willie Nelson.

Without a word, I handed cutlery and napkins to Davy and he brought them to the table, while I followed with glasses and a jug of water. I had positioned the table where it was likely to catch the best light for the longest amount of the day, on the south-west side of the living room. Oval and made of Irish oak, it had been hand-carved to fit the space by Jack Lehane, Sadie’s husband. A matching bench ran along the outer edge of the table, and in summer the windows behind the bench folded back giving access to a balcony, a metre-and-a-half-wide perforated steel ledge with a glass wall and a steel handrail, that circled the tower. On the room side of the table there were four wide oak stools, one at each end and two along the length. The table seated six. It was fully occupied once or twice a year.

I went back to the kitchen area, a curved island of cupboards, worktop, sink, cooker and fridge. I put on the penne and made a dressing for the salad. The air in the room felt thick and heavy and the pasta was taking for ever. I walked to the far side of the island and looked south-east, towards Douglas and Rochestown and Monkstown and Cork Harbour and the open sea. After a time, I turned towards the stovetop again.

‘A watched pot …’ I said, breaking the silence.

‘It’ll cook. Anyway, it’s only twenty to ten. Imagine we’re in Seville or somewhere. We’d be eating early, if we were,’ Davy said.

‘Gracias. Though, hang on a second, it might be done, I think. Take the salad there and I’ll be over with the pasta.’

The salami had added substance to the simple sauce. After a couple of bites, Davy said, ‘Tasty,’ like he meant it, and kept on eating. I ate too, more than I’d expected. The rain was heavier now and the drops hammered like warnings on the glass. We had hardly said a word to each other during dinner but I was the one who had asked Davy around, and I had said that we needed to talk. I got up from the table.

‘Thanks for calling in, though, well, what I mean is that, like, now that you’re here I don’t know what to say.’