McFadden grimaced. “I’m sure it’s a good cause but you wouldn’t catch me doing it. I hired a bike on the Aran Islands for a day and I couldn’t sit down for a week.”

I laughed. McFadden had put on a fair bit of weight since I’d seen him last – a stint on a bike would do him no harm. Maybe he’d replaced his gambling addiction with something more calorific.

“They’re supposed to be leaving from Malin Head in the morning, so they’re taking the bikes up there tonight.” He nodded towards a couple of men wheeling bikes up a ramp onto a large truck. One stood out rather oddly, a large man with a beard dressed in motorcycle leathers who must have been about six foot four. “Thank God that thing will be gone from the square anyway.”

I saw what he meant. The truck was taking up three full spaces in front of the courthouse. I frowned suddenly. Despite the regularity of these cycles, I’d never seen such a gathering of cyclists in the town before, and I’d just realized why – because Glendara was about ten miles from Malin Head.

“Why are they here?” I asked. “Why aren’t they in Malin Head?”

“A group of them are staying in Glendara tonight. I think they decided to do a last check on the bikes here, together, so they’re all set for the morning.”

I was still confused. “But why aren’t they all staying in Malin Head? Wouldn’t they be better off there? Or Malin Town even?”

McFadden gave a small shrug. “Most are, I think. But Mary from the guesthouse knows someone involved apparently, so she got in on the act.” He grinned. “Her place is full to the rafters.”

“Ah,” I said. Now it made sense. Mary McCauley ran a large B & B guesthouse with about ten bedrooms just on the outskirts of the town and a cannier businesswoman you wouldn’t find, except for Phyllis the bookseller, who coincidentally was a buddy of hers.

McFadden spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “To be honest, I think they must have thought Glendara was closer to Malin Head than it is. Typical Dubliners – didn’t bother to check the map. Anyway, there’s a minibus taking the Glendara contingent up to join their bikes in the morning.”

I looked at the crowd and frowned. “How many are there?”

“About seventy cyclists altogether. Seventy-five? Plus hangers-on. Twenty of them staying in the town.”

“Bloody hell.”

He nodded. “I know – there’s a right number of them. It’s good for the town but I’ll be glad to see them sail on through tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “Anyway, the fish factory’s about to let out so it’ll be complete chaos if I don’t get this lot shifted before then.”