Tony got out and followed Karen to the door of the bar. They looked inside, the room unnaturally dark after the daylight, an effect intensified by the wood panelling of the walls and the chequerboard pattern of the tiled floor. The pub was fairly quiet; a few customers sat at the bar, two women with a baby sat near the entrance and, in the far corner, beneath a gilt-edged mirror, Duggan sat, hunched over a tumbler of whiskey, four cans of Special Brew sitting on the seat next to him.

Tony went in, nodding to the barmaid’s greeting, Karen following behind as they moved down to where Duggan sat.

‘You nearly ready, Hugh? We’re on a tight enough schedule.’

‘Just a last one,’ Duggan said. ‘A wee Scotch for the road.’

He took a small mouthful, held it, as if to savour every aspect of its flavour, then swallowed audibly.

‘I always thought wine tasters and that were talking shit, but you can taste it off a good whiskey. Turf smoke. Oak.’

‘Is that you?’ Tony asked.

‘What’s the hurry?’ he snapped. ‘I’m in no rush to see that place again.’

Tony sighed and looked at Karen. She surprised him by moving across and sitting on the red faux-leather seat beside Duggan, placing her hand on his arm.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked, gently. ‘Or do you want to sit a moment.’

He looked at her, as if only really seeing her for the first time. His eyes glittered.

‘Now we’re here, I’m not sure I am ready.’

‘We can take a minute if you like.’

He considered it for a moment, then lifted the glass and drained it, wincing a little at the burning in his throat as he swallowed.

‘Do you think he’s waiting for us?’

Karen frowned lightly. ‘Martin?’

Duggan nodded. ‘Do you think he knows we’re coming?’

‘I guess it depends on whether you think there’s anything after death,’ Karen said.

‘Do you think your missus knows you’re there? When you visit her grave?’ Duggan asked, looking up at Tony.

‘I think she does. Somehow.’

Duggan nodded, as if this was what he’d been expecting.

‘Let’s get this over with, then,’ he said.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

‘Just get it over with,’ Tony muttered to himself, sitting in the car at the row of shops opposite the estate where he now knew Alice Hamilton and her father lived.

It was Saturday night. He’d come back from school after 4pm and had wanted to call Karen, to tell her what he had learned. But things had ended so badly that morning, so damagingly to their relationship, that he felt he couldn’t.