She settled them at what she called her favourite table, fetched bags of chips and peanuts, went behind the bar and poured their drinks herself. She peppered them with questions, listening in the intense way she had, wanting to know from Maxie how it felt to be on stage with a whole audience looking at her, how Olivia knew if a painting was good, or was it the market dictating what was valuable. They’d ordered their third round when they heard a voice behind them.

‘Jeannie?’

They turned around. A young, lanky, brown-haired man was standing there. He apologised for interrupting. Maxie thought he was Welsh. Olivia later guessed correctly that he was Irish.

Jeannie introduced him with flamboyant enthusiasm. ‘This is my darling friend Emmet,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that the most adorable name? And hasn’t he got the most adorable accent?’

Emmet shook hands with them both. ‘Such good manners,’ Jeannie said proudly. He’d come to drop off a new key to their share house, three streets away.

After he left, they interrogated her. ‘A charming Irishman? How come we haven’t heard about him before now?’

‘I was saving him up for you to meet in person. You’ll meet him again tonight, when I take you back to your luxurious lodgings on my living-room floor. Tomorrow at breakfast too.’

‘You’re living with him?’

‘Correction. He’s living with me. Emmet and his cousin, actually. It was my house first. It’s quite the Irish embassy now. But unfortunately in my excitement about your visit I had too much to drink and lost my keys somewhere last night. Or had my keys stolen. So we had to get the lock changed. See how responsible I am these days?’

Maxie ignored the talk of keys. ‘Living with as in living with? Are you and Emmet a couple?’

Jeannie laughed. ‘You’re so coy, Maxie. Are we sleeping together, do you mean? Go on, ask me outright, one of you. I bet you can.’

‘Are you and Emmet sleeping together, Jeannie?’ Olivia asked.

Jeannie put her hands together in a prayer gesture and pulled a sad face. ‘For my sins, Father Olivia, yes, we are. Will I burn in hell?’

‘Why would you burn in hell? What do you take us for? You’re both adults, young, single —’