‘Whatever you do, don’t hold the place up, at least not until I leave.’

Together they moved away from the butcher’s counter and into the centre of the aisle.

‘How are you, Maisie?’ The question was weighted with his concern.

Maisie’s cheeks flashed red. ‘I’m fine, really, good, even.’ He was nodding along but he was clearly waiting for more. ‘Er, great, yeah, great, and thanks again for everything you did for us, Garda Brennan.’

‘You never have to thank me, Maisie, and how many times do I have to tell you to call me Fred?’

‘Sorry, Fred.’

‘So you’ve never heard anything from him, Maisie?’

Fred always asked about Maisie’s ex-husband. It had been years since Danny had disappeared without a trace, and part of her wished he’d stop asking.

‘No. Nothing. He’s gone for sure.’ Now let it go, will ya?

Fred turned to Valerie, looming over her. At six foot six Fred looked down on most people. ‘And how are you, Valerie?’

She shrugged – it was the best answer he was going to get. Maisie’s kids were not comfortable around grown men. To be honest, Maisie wasn’t either.

He moved on quickly. ‘How’s Jeremy and your ma?’

‘Grand, thanks.’

‘And work?’ Fred had set Maisie up with the job in the dental surgery. The dentist was a friend of his from his golf club.

‘Lovely, thanks again.’

‘Will you stop thanking me? I just got you an interview, you did the rest. And, just so you know, you’re doing a great job there. How’s the cleaning going? Are you still at it?’

‘Ah, yeah … It’s handy money.’ Once the young, wide-eyed Maisie had had big dreams. Then she’d met her ex-husband. The snob in Maisie hated admitting how she supplemented her income.

‘If they were all like you, Maisie Bean, women would rule the world.’

Valerie made a puking sound and Maisie shot her younger child a filthy look.

‘You’re a great woman, Maisie.’

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Silence followed, and it slowly dawned on her that he seemed uncomfortable. He was a nice-looking man but right now he appeared rather too warm and slightly sweaty. ‘A great woman,’ he repeated. She wondered if his cheeks were red because he, too, was battling a hangover or whether he’d picked up the bug that had struck down half her road. Please don’t sneeze on me. I don’t have time to be sick. ‘It’s very hot in here, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Roasting.’ Fred’s eyes darted around the aisle. He pulled at his beard and rubbed his nose vigorously.

‘Well, I should get on.’ She was wondering how to make a quick getaway.