‘Good luck finding anything open this time of year,’ Duggan said. ‘I’ve already told you, we should eat here and we can stop for a smoke break along the way.’

‘You still smoking?’ Karen asked.

‘It was a figure of speech,’ he said. ‘Gave them up five years back.’

Karen nodded approvingly. ‘Good for you.’

‘Waste of time, to be honest,’ Duggan said. ‘So, are we eating?’

He stared at Barr, making it clear that the younger man would be paying for their lunch.

‘What do you want?’ Barr asked, hands open in a gesture of magnanimity.

‘I’ll take one of those all-day breakfasts,’ Duggan said. ‘Wi’ tea, not coffee.’ He pushed himself up from his seat and, gathering the small leather bag he’d been carrying since he got out of the car, headed off across the lounge.

‘Make that two,’ Tony said, looking at Karen with a brief conspiratorial smirk.

‘Three,’ said Karen. ‘And make mine a coffee.’ She returned Tony’s smile, stifling a laugh.

Barr nodded. ‘Four fries,’ he repeated, then headed to the food counter to place the order.

‘He’s very earnest,’ Karen said.

‘Eager to impress, I think. He called Hugh Mr Duggan.’

Karen, an expression of mock offence, pushed the folded paper on the table away from her. ‘Are we not good enough for him? I didn’t even get a Karen.’

Tony laughed lightly. ‘How have you been, anyway? It’s good to see you again.’

He studied her closely now. He could still see the girl he had known; the arch of the eyebrows, the thinness of the nose, the crinkling of her eyes when she smiled were still the same, though the crinkles had lengthened and deepened.

‘And you,’ she said. ‘All good, thanks,’ she sat back in the seat a little, crossed her legs. ‘How have you been?’

‘Good,’ Tony said, aware of the absurdity of the word. ‘What have you been doing?’

‘For the past thirty years?’ Karen said, shrugging. ‘I started my own business; I run my own estate agents now.’

‘Impressive,’ Tony said. ‘Where are you living?’

‘Outside Belfast,’ she said.

‘You never went back home?’

She shook her head. ‘There was nothing to go there for – nothing good. What about you? Did you end up back in Derry?’

‘You can take the man out of Derry but… you know the rest,’ he said.

‘Still teaching?’

‘No, I… ah… I gave it up a few years back. I help out in the local church now, cleaning and that. A sacristan of sorts.’

‘You found religion?’

Tony nodded. ‘I rediscovered it, I guess.’

Karen looked to the table, pulling the paper closer to her again, straightening it so that its edges ran parallel with the edges of the table itself.

‘Did you… any kids?’ he asked, his mouth dry, his tongue cloying against his palate.

‘Two,’ Karen said, offering him a brittle smile, not quite raising her eyes from the paper. ‘Two boys.’

‘Boys,’ Tony said, louder than necessary. ‘That’s lovely. What ages are they?’