“Are you sure?” I asked. The only other option was to get chips and take them back to the stationhouse alone, which wasn’t particularly appealing. Then I remembered the chipper was closed.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll have to prepare something for the poor vet when she gets back anyway, and I could do with the company.”

“That would be great, Phyllis, thank you.”

“And,” she lowered her voice mischievously, “you can text the sergeant if you like. I’m sure he hasn’t eaten either.”

The four of us made our way outside in a huddle. It was eight o’clock and night had fallen while we’d been in the pub, but unusually for a Saturday night in Glendara, there were hardly any cars about; people obviously heeding the warning to stay put until the floods had abated. It meant that the acoustics were strange; footsteps issued cavernous echoes amid dripping gutters and the swish of ground water. It reminded me of Venice off-season.

After saying goodbye, Derek and Amanda set off walking towards the hall as they’d left the Lexus there. As soon as they were out of earshot, Liam whispered furiously.

“Jesus Christ! I just walked in on Derek in the jacks with his hands around that guy’s throat.”

Phyllis whirled around. “Who? What guy?”

Liam glanced at me. “Your man who was up at the bar, who was looking in my window earlier. The fella in the Barbour jacket.” He rubbed his neck anxiously. “Derek had him up against the wall. I thought he was going to hit him. He was going to hit him,” he corrected himself, “if I hadn’t walked in and stopped him.”

“Why?” I said.

“I have no idea. But I’ll tell you one thing.” He looked at Derek’s departing figure. There was a gap of at least five full feet between himself and Amanda on the footpath. “That man has got a wile temper on him.”

He walked back to his car, still shaking his head, while Phyllis and I set off towards her shop, splashing and squelching down the hill.

“I wonder what that was about?” Phyllis said. “Do they know each other, or did he just lose it with some random stranger?”

I was asking myself the same question with some supplementary ones thrown in. But before I could give it any proper thought, something occurred to me and I stopped to take out my phone. “You go on, Phyllis. I need to ring Charlie, my neighbor, and get him to check on Guinness.”

“And Molloy,” she said. “Ring Molloy.”

I smiled. “Okay, okay. I’ll follow you down.”