She wasn’t sure it was the right move, but she figured she might as well try and see if Harry’s faith in Lorcan was warranted after all.

‘You know what? I think that sounds perfect,’ Lorcan said. ‘I am a huge fan of the show. My ex used to love it to. Called me her wee English fellah, even though she’s English too.’ His face clouded a little. ‘To be honest, I don’t think I can face going back to Grandad’s just yet and wrestling with his archaic TV to try and find something worth watching.’

‘He’s not a big man for the TV,’ Jo said with a laugh, having listened to Harry wax lyrical about the appeal of the ‘wireless’ over the TV many times. ‘All those channels and on every single one of them they’re all talking a load of nonsense,’ she mimicked.

‘That’s pretty much it,’ Lorcan laughed. ‘So do you want to lead the way?’

Jo nodded, made sure her bag was properly zipped up and turned to walk back in the direction of the city centre. As promised, she’d take him to see the Derry Girls mural – a painting of the four main characters of the comedy show which had become a global hit – and then for a coffee in the Pickled Duck – a quirky café beside the city’s Guildhall.

Sure, she had nothing better to do with her day and she was getting a feeling that he wasn’t quite as annoying as she’d first thought.

11

A Dog’s Purpose

Lorcan proved to be a bit of a dark horse and Jo was surprised to find that, despite her first impressions of him, he was actually quite entertaining. They had taken selfies at the mural as if they were tourists, and then Lorcan had paid for some sausage rolls, complete with the Pickled Duck’s renowned ‘ding’ – a home-made brown sauce – and even insisted on covering the cost of the coffee as well.

The conversation between the two of them flowed easily. He told her of the summers he spent holidaying in Derry as a child with his parents and two younger siblings, and she told him how she’d always thought it was strange anyone would choose to come to Derry to spend their summer.

‘You don’t appreciate what’s on your own doorstep,’ Lorcan said. ‘No one does. You take it for granted – but for us it was something different. And it was near the beach and the mountains and it felt otherworldly. We were always spoiled rotten when we came to stay too. I think we ate half of Grandad’s sweetie stock in the summer months. He always saved some for us, brought it home at the end of the day.’