It was unlike Tom to joke about Father Galvin’s death, and Conor was seized by laughter. The two of them laughed at everything and nothing until people began to stare. They had one for the road. And one more. They were plastered. Hammered. Polluted. They were every kind of drunk. They put Kilmitten to rights. Then they put the country to rights. It was like old times. Conor found himself becoming sentimental. He felt like the night marked the end of something. Their lives were changing, spinning off in different directions. Then he reminded himself that he was drunk.

At some point, the O’Gradys returned. Philly, Pat and Noel junior said little. Seánie, holding his cigarette between thumb and index finger, like the hard man he wanted to be, was more talkative.

‘Some of the girls next door have had a fair few Malibu and pineapples,’ he said to Tom. ‘You never know, one of them might even be pissed enough to give you a go.’

At the party, they were singing the national anthem, raucous voices belting out the words as though their lives depended on it.

For a short while, Tom listened. ‘You know what, Seánie,’ he said eventually, ‘there’s something I’ve been meaning to do.’ He stood, rolled his shoulders and, in one fluid motion, threw a punch that landed directly on his tormentor’s chin. Perhaps the alcohol had given Tom extra power, or perhaps Seánie was so drunk that even the gentlest of pokes would have knocked him over. Either way, he stumbled back and hit the floor. His whiskey glass pirouetted through the air. He managed to hold on to his cigarette.

‘Sacred Heart of Jesus,’ said Mercedes Talty, who’d been walking past. Another woman screamed.

Noel junior and Philly darted forward to attack Tom, but Conor and several others jumped in to block them.

At the party, the crowd roared the last line of ‘Amhran na bhFiann’.

And Tom? Tom grinned like a man who’d achieved a lifetime’s ambition.

Chapter 21

At first, Nina was less than candid with her parents. She gave them an edited version of her story with just enough embroidery to place part of the blame with Tom. They’d grown apart, she said. She didn’t mention Julian. Her father, adamant that the split must have been Tom’s fault, kept asking questions. He assumed, as many would, that Tom had cheated. On and on he went until, feeling she ought to put him straight, Nina told the truth. A look passed between her parents while they absorbed her confession. There were no pyrotechnics. Her dad said he was disappointed. He reckoned that by hooking up with Julian she was trying to make a point. What point, he couldn’t say.

‘No,’ she said, ‘you’re not getting this. I really like him. We’re so well matched, you wouldn’t believe it.’