When they got to Deirdre’s house, the light was on in the porch. ‘Da’s looking out the window,’ she said.

He always was. Nice one. Jeremy waved to him. He didn’t wave so much as raise his hand, as though he wanted to slap something.

‘I’d better go,’ Jeremy said.

‘Right,’ Deirdre said, and turned away. He started to walk down the road but she turned back. ‘You do really like me, Jeremy, don’t you?’

‘I think you’re brilliant, Deirdre,’ Jeremy said, and he meant it – but it wasn’t enough.

‘Goodnight,’ she said.

He blew her a kiss.

‘Gobshite.’ She walked away – but he’d heard it in her voice: she was thrilled.

On the way back he stopped at the van for chips. He bought three bags with the tenner his grammy had given him the day before. ‘Say nothing, son. Happy new year. It’s between you and me.’ He was happy to take it: between buying Deirdre’s Christmas present of CK1 and a smiley-face scarf, and Rave tapping him for a few quid every few days, he was nearly broke. He told Della to wrap them twice and ran all the way to the park with the chips under his coat. Nothing worse than cold chips.

The lads were sitting around the Hanging Tree when he got there, a little drunker than when he’d last seen them. The rain had stopped but the tree was so dense it would be hard to get wet under it anyway. Rave was sitting on the ground leaning against the trunk. Jeremy reached into his coat and pulled out a bag of chips for him and handed the other two bags to Mitch to share with Dave and Jonno either side of him. ‘Where are the girls?’ he asked.

‘Gone home.’ Jonno grinned.

‘How come he gets a full bag?’ Dave pointed at Rave.

‘Shut your mouth, Dave. I’m sharing with Jeremy.’ Rave sounded a little too defensive.

Jeremy sat next to Rave but he didn’t touch them. Rave needed chips more than he did.

Mitch handed him a bottle with some vodka in it. ‘Nah, I’m grand,’ he said.

‘Go on, mammy’s boy, have a drink,’ Dave said.

‘I said no, Dave.’ Jeremy was always careful to drink enough not to seem a square but never too much. He couldn’t afford to lose control.

‘Thanks for the chips, Beany,’ Jonno said, his mouth full.

‘Can’t believe it’s 1995,’ Rave said, when Dave handed him the bottle. He examined it before he drank. ‘Nineteen-fuckin’-ninety-five.’

‘Let’s play a game. 1994 was the year that …’ Mitch said.

‘What? Like 1994 was the year I stuck me knob between Melissa Granger’s tits?’ Dave said.