‘I’d have understood.’

‘If I’d told you …’ He looked over Matty’s head, as if caught in a memory. ‘If I’d talked to you, I would have stayed. You’d have talked me out of it. Or those eyes would have.’ His slow, sad smile faded. ‘I’m not saying it was right. I’ve always regretted it.’

‘No, you haven’t.’ Spoken more blankly. ‘You’ve got the perfect life right here.’

‘Well now, I wouldn’t call it perfect.’

Typical Joe. Just as he’d always been. Optimistic when it suited him, and then stirring in the pathos.

‘I saw Maureen.’

They’d moved to the living room, Joe saying the hard stools were no good for him for too long. He was starting the fire and looked round with near-alarm, a match in his hand. ‘My sister Maureen?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How did you find her?’

‘She’s in a house. They all are, there together.’

He looked shaken.

‘Why didn’t you ever go and see her? Find her? If I managed it, then you could have.’

He struck the match, watching the firelighter spurt into flame, before turning and sitting to the side. It was a shock, somehow, to see him on the carpet, as if he was the child and Matty the parent.

‘She’s a religious woman, my sister,’ he said. ‘Well, the whole family. Not, you know, God loves all of you, rain or shine, but the sort that thinks men who – gay men should be basted on the devil’s Saturday afternoon barbecue. Most of Ireland was like that, and my lot more than most. We didn’t come over until it was all legal, and even then, it’s felt pretty …’ He gave a heavy sigh. ‘Close to the bone. Not really in anything that anyone has said, we’ve been lucky, and we’re bloody discreet, but it hangs over you. This country might have changed, but not everyone in it has. That’ll take time.’ He stretched one leg out. ‘When I was a teenager, I had the odd …’ He sent over a wry look. ‘You know, stirring. Nothing more than that. I felt like I was evil to my marrow.’ He seemed resolute. ‘I know I came back here but it wasn’t for my family. Not the old one, anyway.’

That hurt. Matty looked out of the window.

‘I didn’t mean that. Matty. You know that’s not what I meant.’

‘I’ve worked in Canada.’

‘Have you?’ Joe’s face lifted. ‘What were you doing there?’

‘Kids’ camps. Adventure-type stuff.’

‘What do you know. Is that what you do?’

Matty shrugged. ‘Sometimes.’

‘That’s grand.’

He wasn’t allowed to do that. Be proud.

‘Listen, you haven’t told me anything,’ he said. ‘About you, and about … your life.’ The word spoken so lightly.

And that’s all it was. ‘Not much of a life.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’