‘That’s them. I’ll see you later.’

‘They don’t want to have a quick drink here, a bite to eat?’

‘I told you, we’re going to the pub. Is this –’ I point at her latest outfit – ‘is this for their benefit?’

‘Shut up.’ She blushes and leaves the kitchen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sunday 29 December 1974

Charlie

Ryan, Sal and I walk into the beer garden entrance of the Royal Exchange. It’s five-thirty on a hot afternoon so the pub is crowded for the Sunday session, filled with happy drinkers done with weekend chores, students, packs of kids running around and dogs. The music is pumping – Sherbet’s ‘Slipstream’ when we walk in – and people are smiling, holding glasses, stubbies, cans, cigarettes. I hear snatches of upbeat conversation: ‘Come here you big poofter!’, ‘Bloody oath I am’, ‘Fourteen, mate. That’s close enough to legal.’ I’m glad we three are back together again, and in a place we’ve spent so many days and nights, but I’m worried about taking Ryan somewhere fun. I reckon I can enjoy myself without losing perspective, but a good afternoon at the RE might fuel his romantic notions about moving back.

Ryan goes inside to the bar to get us a jug of beer while Sal and I scout for a table under the fig tree, our preferred spot. I’m about to ask her what kind of mood Ryan’s been in since they arrived when I instead freeze on the spot. People are moving about on the dirt floor, obscuring my line of sight, so it’s only a glimpse at first. I tell myself I’m being paranoid, that it can’t be, wouldn’t be. Sal wanders away, and I wait until I get a good look. Then I’m certain. It’s Finn.

He’s leaning against a brick wall, talking to a hefty, heavily bearded man wearing an unzipped leather vest and patched jeans. My first thought is that Finn is following me. He must have arrived here minutes before us and ducked into the pub while we parked. Question is whether he’s here to punish me for trying to take Beau, or if Doyle sent him to keep an eye on who I talk to. I try to think of an excuse to get Ryan and Sal out of here, then think about whether, instead, I can get into the bar unseen and tell Ryan I have to leave on my own. Family emergency or something. Finn isn’t looking my way so maybe I should just go, and explain myself to my friends later.

Sal calls out to me that she’s found an empty table, then raises one arm to signal to Ryan also, who’s walking our way, holding a full jug and glasses. Three or four men, Finn included, flick their eyes to watch her with undisguised appreciation. And in a snap I realise that this place is so public, so crowded, that it’s my safest option. Finn won’t do anything to me with this many witnesses around. My best bet is to sit down and wait him out.