‘I have no idea,’ said Nelson, checking the time. ‘Nowt as queer as folk, as they say.’

Susan put her phone away but didn’t look at all convinced. At a table on the other side of the restaurant, the voices of two men disagreeing with each other began to be heard over the low hum of conversation. The heads of everyone in the room turned in their direction and they watched as a waitress approached them and had a quiet word.

‘Anyway,’ said Nelson, turning back to Susan, ‘you were saying that you’re a professional footballer. Are you the only one, or are there others?’

‘No, it’s just me,’ she said. ‘I go out on the pitch alone every Saturday and just kick the ball around for ninety minutes, trying both to score and to stop myself from scoring. I almost always win.’

‘Right,’ said Nelson, looking at Shane. ‘Do you have any other sisters?’ he asked.

‘No, just Susan,’ replied Shane.

‘Good.’

‘Of course there’s more of us,’ she continued. ‘Although most female footballers have day jobs because we don’t get paid like the men because of—’

‘The patriarchy, I know.’

‘Yes,’ she said, bristling a little. She looked irritated to have been robbed of her chance to use the word.

‘How strange,’ said Nelson.

‘Is it? Why?’

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Maybe that was the wrong word.’

‘Maybe,’ agreed Shane.

‘I meant unusual. The thing is, I’ve never met a female professional footballer before. And I’ve met a lot of famous people. Through my father, I mean. Presidents, prime ministers, pop stars. I met Mariah Carey once and she told me to get the fuck out of her way. I still remember that moment. It was my highlight of 2018.’

‘As it happens, I don’t think I’ve ever talked to a policeman either,’ she said. ‘Other than our cousin, but he’s a garda and I think he just likes dressing up. He’s getting married in a few months, actually, so you’ll be able to compare notes with him. If you’re still around, that is,’ she added, glancing at her brother, who looked down at the table and ate his sandwich. ‘It feels a little odd to be sitting here while you’re sat opposite me in uniform. I have to say, the Met doesn’t exactly put a lot of money into them, does it? It’s very tatty material, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ She reached across and took a fistful of his shirt sleeve in her hand before letting go and glancing at her palm as if she was worried that it might be covered in nuclear waste. ‘It’s like something a person might buy online for a fancy-dress party.’

Across the room, the men’s voices were raised again, this time in fury, and the waitress returned to their table to tell them off. One of the men swore at her, then apologized and promised to keep the noise down. She looked unconvinced but walked away.