Our riverside apartment is situated in what’s commonly known as the financial hub of the city, a thriving space of banks, businesses, theatres and restaurants. It wasn’t that long ago when it was amongst the most run-down places in Dublin. An oasis for those who fell through the cracks and couldn’t climb out. Now it’s up there with the most expensive places to rent in the city centre. I don’t actually pay for any of it because it comes with Lucas’s job. It was part of the package offered to attract him away from the sun and the sand to the wind and the rain. That, and the promise of a promotion on his return to Australia. All I have to do is enjoy the view, the endless amenities and the one surviving traditional pub that’s conveniently situated right beside our block. The glossy green painted exterior of O’Reilly’s bar, with its stained glass and warm lighting, looks out of place amongst the cold brick and glass walls that surround it. It’s kept busy with clientele from all walks of life. On a Tuesday you could be sipping gin with a poet, Friday a bank manager, Saturday a drug dealer. As long as you don’t bring trouble through the door, everyone is welcome. Lucas loves to go there when the rugby is on. He wears his Wallabies gold and green with pride and even though he’s the only one not wearing an Irish jersey, he shouts for his team just as loud as the rest of the punters.

‘It better not be late,’ Muriel says, ending the call before turning her attention to me. She smiles.

‘Rotten day, isn’t it?’ she says. ‘Those fools from Cahill’s bakery are late with the croissants and doughnuts again.’

Muriel calls ‘five minutes’ late. The poor van driver is probably stuck in traffic at the far end of the quays, sweating nervously that they have to come in and face the wrath of Muriel. They shouldn’t worry, though. Her bark is a hell of a lot worse than her bite.

I yawn when I say good morning and she asks me what has me so tired.

‘Were you up all night again making love to that fella?’ she says, making me laugh. ‘You should keep something for the honeymoon.’

‘I didn’t sleep very well,’ I say, removing my jacket and walking in behind the counter.

‘Everything will be wonderful, pet, don’t be worrying.’