“No, thanks.”
“What!”
“I’m not drinking.”
She turned round, said, “You what?”
“Been a few days. I’m working at it.”
“Wow!”
I’d have given my back teeth for it. The light seemed to catch the glass, made the liquid sparkle. I looked away. Cathy asked, “And the beard? What’s with that?”
“Notions.”
“That’s an Irish answer. Tells me absolutely zero. Go… I need to focus.”
I bent down, kissed the top of her head, said, “Star trouper.”
Ann was holding drinks, said, “Cokes… I didn’t mean to presume.”
“Coke is great.”
Various people shouted hello, commented on the beard, scrutinised Ann.
Lights went down and I thought I spotted Sutton near the bar.
Then Cathy was up. The crowd went quiet. She said, “Hello.”
“Hello yourself.”
Straight into a punk version of “Galway Bay”. Like when Sid
