Chapter 42

We're in the pub for my leaving drinks. A lot of people have come to wish me well in my new job at the airport, and even though I'm really sad to be leaving the port, I'm very excited about the move and the opportunities it might bring.

‘Here you go.' Natasha puts another bottle of beer in front of me.

‘This is my last,' I tell her. ‘Senior executives like me can't get pissed with the plebs.'

She sticks out her tongue and we both laugh.

I haven't had that much to drink. I've mixed quite a few non-alcoholic beers with the alcoholic variety, and although I'm tired, it's because it's been a long day and I was out last night with Charles. We went to dinner after yet another book launch – who knew there were so many writers in Dublin – and stayed up late when we got back to Riverside Lodge because there was a documentary on TV about Ian Rankin, who Charles has met a number of times and which he wanted to watch. I asked when there'd be a documentary about Charles himself and he told me that Ariel had tried to get someone interested after the Booker but that he probably wasn't exciting enough.

‘You're exciting enough for me,' I said, and promptly yawned, which made him say that the excitement of knowing him had clearly worn off.

‘Not entirely,' I said. ‘But I think I'll head up to bed. I'm knackered and I have a busy day tomorrow.'

‘I'll be up later,' said Charles. ‘And I promise not to wake you.'

He lied about that, because he put his arm around me when he got into bed and I snuggled up against him, and then I turned around and kissed him, and next thing I knew we were making love, and honestly, it's so good with him that I feel elated every single time. We talked about inconsequential things for a short time afterwards, but, like every man I've ever known, it didn't take him long to fall asleep. To be fair, I nodded off soon afterwards too. He was still out for the count when I got up this morning, and although he's texted me twice, I've been too busy to do anything more than send emojis in reply.

‘Any news on the wedding?' asks Natasha, who's plonked herself down beside me.

‘We're working on it,' I say. ‘I was too scared to do anything before their divorce came through, but his solicitor said it should be done and dusted by next week. And then it's full steam ahead.'

‘You're so lucky,' she says. ‘He's the sweetest guy, even if he is on the older side. I'm reckoning that means lots of the kinks are already ironed out.'

‘Oh, he has some of his own.' I grin. ‘But no better woman than me to sort him.'

‘Absolutely. I'm going to the bar. Would you like another drink?'

I glance at my watch and shake my head.

‘I'm not cut out for late-night sessions any more,' I say. ‘I'm going home.'

I get up and begin my goodbyes, telling everyone that I'll miss them madly and insisting that we'll stay in touch. There are lots of hugs and good wishes and it's nearly twenty minutes later before I actually leave the pub. Although night has fallen, a faint light remains on the horizon that lifts my spirits and says summer is on the way.

Despite being tired, there's a real spring in my step as I begin the walk back to Marino – I'd decided it was better to stay with Mum and Dad tonight rather than schlep across town – but then I see a taxi approach with its light on and I stop it.

‘Terenure,' I tell the driver as I climb into the back seat and close my eyes.