Eileen had taken the boys to her parents' house for Sunday lunch. Brendan had made his excuses.

He'd turned up at Macca's without warning, and found him about to leave for the same Sunday lunch. The look in Brendan's eyes told Macca that he wouldn't take rejection well, so Macca had rung his nan to say sorry, something had come up and he couldn't make it.

And then they'd fucked, and fallen out of bed, and carried on fucking hard on the floor, adding collateral damage to the bites and red marks of restraint that already dappled Macca's pale skin. Afterwards they'd had a shower together to soothe their various aches and carpet burns.

They were half dressed when Brendan's phone rang. It was Debbie, from the Liverpool club.

"Hi, sweetheart," Brendan said. He knew she must be calling about Vinnie's funeral. Macca saw the swagger leave him.

"Hi, Brendan love." Debbie's voice was gentle as she explained that the coroner had at last released Vinnie's body to his family, and the funeral had been arranged. She didn't think Brendan would be able to make it, but she was letting him know as she'd promised she would last time she'd rung. As she read him the details, Brendan repeated them and Macca wrote them down.

"We miss you here, Brendan," Debbie said finally. "Keep in touch, won't you?"

"Yeah, course I will. Thanks for letting me know about the... I hope it goes off okay. Take care, Deborah." Brendan finished the call abruptly.

Macca moved to stand beside him. He feared Brendan's reaction, but he did what he felt he had to do, and took Brendan's right hand in both of his.

Brendan let him.

Macca kissed the tattooed cross that covered Brendan's upper arm, then rested his cheek against it, still holding his hand.

"Will you got to the funeral?" Macca didn't expect an answer. He expected to be flung across the room.

"I can't." Brendan sounded defeated.

"You could. It might help."

Brendan shook Macca off him and put his shirt on.

"Why would I? He was just some bloody barman."

"Bren, you don't have to be like that. Not with me. It's okay, you're allowed to have..."

"Is there any chance you're gonna shut the fuck up any time soon, Macca?" Brendan was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, and Macca approached him and began to fasten them for him. Taken aback that Macca hadn't retreated, Brendan allowed him to help. This made Macca feel brave enough to push things.

"You loved him. It's obvious."

"One more word. One more word, and I swear..."

"Brendan, what can you do to me that you haven't already done?"

Brendan grabbed him, turned him to face the wall, and pushed him against it, twisting the lad's arms painfully behind his back.

"D'you want to find out? Do you?"

Macca shut his eyes, waiting for whatever he had coming to him. But the combination of Debbie's phone call, and the sight of the resigned and fearful young man in front of him, made Brendan think of Vinnie and step away.

Macca slowly turned to face him again.

"You're grieving for someone you loved, Brendan. There's nothing wrong with that."

Brendan couldn't believe Macca had said it again.

"What the fuck's the matter with you? How could I love a... Jesus, I'm not..."

"You're not gay." Macca had heard it all before. "So what have we been doing, then, Brendan? What would you call that?"

"It's sex, Macca. Fucking. That's all it was with Vincent, and that's all it is with you."

"It's not though, is it? We don't just fuck. We kiss, Brendan. You hold me."

"Don't kid yourself. That's a means to an end."

The change from virulence to coldness in Brendan's voice was worse than any punch.

"I don't believe you, Brendan." Macca angrily wiped away a tear with the back of his hand, then suddenly laughed, shaking his head at the bed he'd made for himself. "Why would you need to give me a cuddle and a kiss to keep me sweet? You can batter me and still have me, we both know it."

The defiance in Macca's eyes was one of the things that had first drawn Brendan to him, but this was something else. Did the boy have some kind of death wish today? Brendan felt as if Macca was taking control, goading him to lash out whether he wanted to or not; it would be so, so easy to give in to it and beat him to the ground. The temper was rising in him once more, and Macca saw this with a thrill of fear and excitement. He'd got under Brendan's skin.

Neither man knew which way this was going to go, but the stand-off was broken by Brendan's phone ringing again, making both of them jump. Brendan answered it gratefully.

"Hey, sis. How you doing?"

Macca watched Brendan as he greeted Cheryl. There was an uncharacteristic softness to him; his spikiness was smoothed, just as it was when he spoke to his children. Macca wasn't the jealous type – how could he be, sharing a married man for all these months? - but he envied the people who could have this effect on Brendan. They had the man's love, that was the difference.

As he listened to Cheryl, Brendan's attitude changed from indulgence to alertness. He stood still, frowning as he tried to unravel what she was telling him.

She'd bought a lottery scratchcard and scratched it off and it was a winning card and she'd won two hundred and fifty pounds. Not two hundred and fifty, two hundred and fifty thousand, that was it, but she'd lost the card and it was the worst day of her life. But she'd found it again and she wasn't going to tell Brendan until the money was actually in the bank because he was such a sceptic, but she couldn't wait any longer, she was busting to tell him, and Padraig and Declan were going to have the best Christmas presents ever.

"It's July, Chez, bit early to be thinking about Christmas." Brendan wanted her to pause for breath, so he could try to get clear what had happened. "A quarter of a million? You're sure, yeah?"

"Yes! They sent a lottery lady round and everything, it's all official, Bren."

"That's great, sis, I'm made up for you." He paused. "Have you told anyone?"

Stupid question.

"No. Well, yes, a few people, but no-one who's gonna con me, Bren, if that's what's worrying you. I'm a big girl now, love."

"Yeah, I know you are. But just be careful, will you? For me."

"Yes, Brendan."

"What you gonna do with the money? Got plans?"

"First thing is, I'm gonna pay off my credit cards. I've been shopping, see."

"Already? Chez, just be sensible, yeah?"

Cheryl launched into an anecdote about her trip to the shops, and it was a few minutes before Brendan could steer the conversation to a close.

"Love you, sis. Speak soon." He ended the call, then said quietly, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph."

"What's happened, Bren? Cheryl's won the lottery?" Macca asked.

"Scratchcard, yeah. Two hundred and fifty grand, she says."

The two of them looked at each other, and burst into laughter.

"I'm pleased for her," Macca said. "She deserves it."

"Yeah. Yeah, she does." Brendan picked up his watch, which he'd taken off when they showered. "I've got to go. Eileen and the boys will be home."

Macca wanted to kiss him, but the mood between them had switched so many times this afternoon that he didn't dare risk it.

Brendan was now preoccupied with his little sister's news, and left, calling, "See ya, kid" over his shoulder as he slammed the door.

A moment later, Macca noticed the scrap of paper on which he'd written down the details of Vinnie's funeral. He ran down the stairs with it, his feet bare, catching Brendan up as he reached the door to the street.

"Take it, Brendan. In case you decide to go."

Brendan hesitated, then took the piece of paper and pocketed it, put his hands on Macca's hips, kissed him, and was gone.

:::::::

Next day, Brendan drove to the other side of town and found a florist's shop. He couldn't go to Vinnie's funeral, he just couldn't. But he could send flowers. He ordered a spray of roses: white ones, because the boy had been an innocent, really. The assistant gave him a form to write down the wording he wanted on the card, and he stared at it, not knowing what to say. Finally he wrote, In memory of happier times. B.

Brendan paid in cash, walked out of the shop, and got on with his day.