Well, what were you doing there, then? she says to me. I was organising a wee surprise for you, I says to her, a wee secret surprise. Leave your husband, I says to her. I don’t know why I says that then, maybe it was the guilt talking. Leave your husband, I says to her, and let’s you and me get a wee place together. Have you ever heard of a thing called Stockholm Syndrome? she says to me. One of these European diseases? I says to her. No thank you. You can catch it anywhere, she says to me. It’s when you fall in love with your captor, she says. I’m your captor, I says to her. Well, she says, I’m not the style of dizzy bitch that happens to at all. She was pushing all the right buttons, I’ll be honest with you. Well, what are you in it for? I says to her. You can walk away tomorrow, I says, if you like. Life goes on, I says. This old world will keep on turning, I says to her. Then she says it.

For the masquerade, she says. That word again. It’s out of place. That word is out a place, I says to her. That fucking word. A masquerade is a masked dance, she says to me. Did you leave that note for me in the Europa? I says to her. What note? she says. That note behind the desk. That note that Sharon gave me. Why? What did it say? she says to me. Nothing, I says to her. That’s the point. Nothing. It was an envelope with nothing inside it, I says to her. That wasn’t me, she says. I would at least have included one of my special wee hankies for you.

I leave her in the cafe and I walk to a pay phone. I give Sharon a bell at the Europa. Are you alright, hen? I says to her. What a terrible business, I says. I was just calling to make sure you were all okay. Sure, we’re fine, she says to me. It’s awful nice of you to call. How about yourself? she says. Ah, I’m grand, I says to her, a few scratches, nothing to worry yourself about. Then I says to her to order a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to Kathy on her next shift. Don’t tell her they’re from me, I says to her. Just put: Your Secret Admirer. And I walk away, feeling that I’ve got everything covered. The next day me and Tommy fly to Glasgow, capital of Scotland, to lay low.

Part Three: Bobby Sands Has Come to Pass