Conor, too, was working in Templemorris. While he’d had the points for college, he hadn’t been able to find a course that appealed to him. When a position as a trainee car mechanic had become available, he’d decided he’d better take it. All the while, he’d shied away from saying what he actually wanted to do. He’d been biding his time, waiting for the right advertisement to appear in the papers. Part of him envied Tom, living it up in UCD, an entire city of women to charm, nobody to monitor his behaviour. Although Tom continued to lust after Nina, this hadn’t prevented him pursuing a stream of others. ‘I don’t want to get tied down,’ he’d claim. Conor suspected he was scared of being knocked back. If there was one thing he could say for sure about his friend, it was that he was more complicated than he liked people to think.

‘So,’ said his father, ‘what’s the story?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Something’s going on with you.’

‘Ah.’ His old man wasn’t so dozy after all. ‘I was about to tell you.’ He got up and went to the cupboard beside the door, the one where they kept the bills and whatnot. He removed a brown envelope from the pile, then sat down again. ‘This came today.’ He passed the letter to his dad, who unfolded the A4 sheet and read.

‘Well, now,’ he said, his face hard to decipher. ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?’

‘I didn’t know if they’d have me.’

‘You never said. About wanting to be a guard, I mean.’

‘I didn’t know how you’d feel, so I thought I’d apply and see how I got on.’

For the longest five seconds, his father said nothing. Conor sat motionless, paralysed by doubt. Why had he insisted on keeping it to himself? What was wrong with him that he couldn’t be upfront? What if his dad thought he was making a mistake, that he wasn’t suited to the force?

Finally, his father stuck out his hand. His grip was firm, enthusiastic. ‘If it’s what you want, it’s great news. The best news. When do you start?’

‘The training begins in September.’

His father’s lips curved into a smile. When he spoke again, there was amusement in his voice. ‘It’s true what the fella says: you learn something new every day. There I am, the man who’s supposed to know what’s happening around these parts, and I don’t even know what’s going on under my own roof.’ It was his dad’s turn to rise from the table. He returned with a bottle of Jameson and two tumblers. ‘If anything ever called for a drink,’ he said, ‘this is it.’