She won that three years ago, Eamonn said.

It’s the last thing that happened here we can be proud of, said the man. His voice was deep, almost rough, despite his refined accent.

Right enough, Michael, said Eamonn.

How did Eamonn know his name?

Fidel inclined his head at the newsreader. Barry’s had the beard trimmed, he said, looping his own brush around his thumb and teasing it into a long, tapered point.

The news. A country road; a police Land Rover parked sideways across its white lines, a pair of legs draped in cloth protruding from a bald whitethorn hedge. Men in balaclavas behind a Formica table, woolly faces pressed to a row of microphones, lit sporadically by camera flashes. A pub with no windows, damp smoke wheezing from a crater in the roof.

The last item on the news was a human interest story. Everyone liked this part because it was usually something non-partisan they could comment on. A reporter had been sent into the city centre to ask people what they thought of streaking. It’s ridiculous, said a woman in a knitted hat, sure it’s far too cold. There were sniggers around the bar. A tiny man slick with Brylcreem said he’d do it if somebody paid him enough. The next man barked ‘it’s obscene’ and walked off. Then they stopped a girl with long dark hair and big eyes. She was wearing an Afghan coat, the collar fluffed up around her face. I think it’s fantastic, she said, something different. She seemed stoned.

She has the look of you about her, Cushla, said Minty. Would you be up for a bit of streaking yourself?

Leave my sister alone, you pervert, said Eamonn, smirking. Normally she would have had a reply that would shut them all up, but she was aware of the man with the neat whiskey and tidy nails.

Eamonn told Cushla to do a sweep for empties. She went on to the floor. Three men with crew cuts were at a corner table cluttered with soapy-looking tankards. As she reached for the last, one of them placed it on the carpet. You forgot one, he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. She bent to pick it up and he laid his hands on her hips, just above her arse. She eased herself free of him and went back to the bar to the sound of their laughter.

Did you see what that soldier did? Cushla asked Eamonn as she dumped their glasses in the sink.

No. He said it without looking at her and she knew he had.

He frigging groped me.

What do you want me to do about it? he said, only it wasn’t a question. He couldn’t do anything.