“Alex, we promised.”

“Promises don’t mean shit.”

“It’s too late to back out now, we’re meeting them in half an hour.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you remember a little bit earlier then?” I grumbled, and was met with a shove.

“If you’re not ready by six I’m leaving without you.”

As it turned out, I was ready by six. Perched on the edge of her bed as she continued to sort through her wardrobe, holding up outfit after outfit in front of the mirror. The only time I ever knew Connie to show up early to anything was when she had a hair appointment. Parties, dates, school, doctor and dentist appointments—if she wasn’t fashionably late, there was a good chance she wasn’t going to show up at all. She eventually settled on a loose-fitting black T-shirt and the shortest denim shorts I had ever seen before she finally started on her makeup. Another half an hour later and she was ready, giving herself a quick once over in the mirror before throwing me a flawless smile.

“Do I look alright?”

I scanned her up and down, pausing when I reached the shorts she might as well have left behind. “Alright is one word.” I stepped a little closer, resting a hand on her hip. “Are you sure we have to go?”

“Alex Ryan. I didn’t just spend an hour getting ready for nothing. Now come on, you’re delaying us…”

Molly and Orla were sitting on a bench outside the chipper when we finally strolled up, neither of them looking particularly surprised by our tardiness. They each greeted us with a kiss on the cheek, both of them raving about how stunning Connie looked with such little effort, before Molly turned to me.

“That hat, Alex? Really?”

“My ears get cold, alright? Where are we even going this evening, anyway?”

Molly shrugged. “I thought we could grab a drink in the Old Oak? The lads should be here soon.”

The lads. Fantastic.

“You know, I was talking to Michael,” Orla perked up, “and he said there’s a new bartender there who’s meant to be a proper ride, and he used to play hurling for Dublin ‘til he broke his ankle and had to stop. And you know I think—”

She continued to ramble on until we were seated inside. She was the first to jump up and buy the rest of us drinks when we were out. After one pint too many she was the Mother Theresa of Halford, throwing drinks at everyone and anyone. Molly had always been the stingy one of the group—the type who would lend someone a pound and ask for it back later on. It was a rather quiet evening in the pub for a Friday. There didn’t seem to be anyone of note hanging around, simply one or two older men on stools at the bar, a loved-up middle-aged couple in the corner. I thought about how much better off we would have been staying home for the night, and whether or not we might be able to bounce off early.