I float to the surface of a deep sleep. I'm warm, comfortable; going to drift back under, only Steven whispers, "Bren?"

Maybe he's been lying here waiting for me to wake, or maybe he woke me.

"Mm?"

"You awake?"

"Mm."

I force my eyes open, enough to ascertain that it's not the middle of the night, but neither is it what you'd call morning: just the first bare hint of dawn through the open curtains, taking the edge off the blackness.

Whispering still: "What time have we got to go?"

"Mm?"

"Check out. Out of our room."

"Not at kill-me-o'clock in the morning. You woke me up to ask me that?"

"I didn't wake you."

"'Kay." I sigh, or yawn, or a cross between the two. "We got plenty of time. Won't have to rush our breakfast."

"Good." He tucks closer against my side, an arm across my chest.

I feel his stubble brush my shoulder as he gets himself comfortable. 'Stubble' being a misnomer for what's at this point no more than a slight texture starting half way down his cheek: you wouldn't even see it in daylight, but in the dark, when your other senses are turned up, you can feel it.

His feet are cold: he must have been out of bed: which explains why I woke up, most likely when he got back in. Probably he went to the bathroom.

Well. I'm awake now.

For a second he's startled to find himself on his back, and me on top of him. But then his arms and legs embrace me, and we're kissing, and when I want to kiss his throat, he stretches his head back on the pillow, and my lips press by the side of his Adam's apple where his pulse beats strong.

His pyjama bottoms have gone missing,

I feel underneath him, inside the leg-hole of his underwear.

"Like that, yeah?"

"Yeah."

So I lick my fingers and go again. I keep my touch light on his perineum and his hole as he strokes my back, not pressing inside him until his fingers curl and claw my skin.

"You want more?" I ask, meaning, more than my two fingers can give him.

"Yeah. With lube though."

"Course with lube." I spread my fingers like a pair of scissors as I bring them out of him. The muscles of his ring tighten, forcing them closed.

I feel in the drawer for the canister; come back and kneel between his thighs.

"Think I was just gonna use spit?"

He laughs. "No."

I undo the buttons of his pyjama top. Stroke up his flanks. Find his nipples with my thumbs and play with them till they stiffen.

Kiss his mouth for a while.

He plays with my hair.

I sit back on my heels, and lift his legs up by the ankles, and put them together, and move them both to one side of me, so his top half is still flat on the bed but – flexible as he is – he's twisted at the waist. I lubricate my cock and my hand, and pull his underwear out of the way.

Interesting angle, this, when I go in. Not straightforward, so to speak, and it takes me a minute to find my line and my rhythm. As for him, he doesn't know which way to move his pelvis when we do it like this – so much so that his attempts resemble his dancing, uncoordinated.

I don't mean his slow dancing, obviously: he does just fine with that.

Anyhow, he makes himself laugh, and gives up and leaves it to me, so it's me moving him, and his laughing turns to gasping turns to singing out, and all he needs to do is grab his dick to slow himself down or speed himself up until – to the second – we come together.

"Clever boy." I say it into his ear as I pull out of him.

He laughs, breathless, and I do too. I kiss his cheek.

There's more light in the sky by now. Still can't see much, but I can see his outline when he sits up and wriggles his underwear into place.

"Pass us some wipes," he says.

I stretch to the drawer again, get the packet out and give it to him. He unseals it and pulls some out, and puts the pack down on my stomach while he wipes his hands. He must be better at seeing in the dark than I am, because he finds my hand without fumbling, and wipes my fingers and palm. Then he takes more from the packet, and he's giving my cock an efficient clean.

"Oh," I say. "Okay."

"Took you by surprise?" He laughs. "There you go."

He gets off the bed then.

"Where you going?"

"Toilet. And I need to put these in the bin, don't I."

I get a glimpse of him when the bathroom light switches on as he opens the door: too bright to look at, but when I close my eyes, indelible.

:::::::

We're downstairs for breakfast, to take full advantage, seeing as it's our last chance and we're both hungry.

"You get more food, don't you, if you come down for it," he says when we're sat down with our bowls of cereal. "Cos you can go back for seconds if you want."

"True. Room service breakfast has its plus points, though. The waiter was hot stuff..."

He looks outraged. Only for a second, though, before he remembers that the man who wheeled the room service trolley into our bedroom yesterday morning, was him.

"You wanna be careful," he says. "You could've had your Frosties in your lap just then."

I wink at him, and pour us each a coffee.

"Quieter than last time we had breakfast here," I say. "Sunday, was it?"

"Seems like ages ago, dunnit? But Sunday, yeah, when everyone was here... Everyone all loved-up from their nice little sexy night in a nice posh hotel." He eats a spoonful of Cheerios. "D'you know what I reckon? I reckon we won't be the only ones that come back here, right, cos they've all got good memories of it now, an't they, so they'll be coming back for little weekends and special occasions and that."

"Who's 'they'?"

"Well, Cheryl and Nate might. Cos I know they've stayed in a hotel in town before, but they might like to come to this one instead, cos it's not far into town anyway really."

"They've got grounds of their own, ain't they? Less of a novelty for them than it is for us."

"That's true. But they liked it here, though, didn't they, so I wouldn't be surprised if they came back."

"I know Anne will, anyways."

"Has she said so, then? I mean, I know she liked it."

"She told me – this was when they were negotiating the details for this weekend – she said to Hugo she was looking into venues for the Riley thing. Y'know, the Riley Costello Foundation. She and Carl Costello, they're looking to do some events or whatever, later on this year. Fundraising, I guess. It's the reason the hotel cut us a good deal – on the promise of some high-profile business further down the line."

"That's clever of Mitzeee."

"It's true, by the way. She didn't just say it to save us a few quid. They really are gonna book this place for something."

"Good. I didn't think she'd just use her Riley's name like that if she never meant it." He pauses while he finishes his cereal, then he says, "I reckon Tony and Jacqui might come and stay here again as well, me. Cos usually if they come to England, they stay at Myra's the whole time, don't they, but I reckon now that they've got away from there for one night this time, they'll do it again next time. Jac liked the spa, didn't she."

"You never know."

"And as well – ooh, looks like our brekkie's coming..."

The breakfast waitress comes with our cooked breakfast. Steven and I help ourselves to red sauce (him) and brown sauce (me) and dive in.

"What were you saying?" I ask him. "You said, 'And as well...'?"

"Oh, yeah. I was thinking, if it goes alright with Curtis and Hugo, they'll come back here for anniversaries and that, won't they, because it's where they met for the first time."

I look at him. "You don't think you're getting a wee bit ahead of yourself there, Steven? You're planning where they're spending their anniversaries, and we don't know if they're even gonna call each other, never mind anything else."

"Shut up. I'm just being romantic. And anyway, it could happen, cos they well fancied each other, didn't they. I bet I'm right."

I shake my head at him. "You're ridiculous."

We smile.

"Anyway," he says, "We told Curtis we'll see if he's on shift next time we go to the hospital, didn't we, so hopefully we'll see him then, and we can find out how it's going."

"Don't let your food go cold."

"I s'pose I'll get a letter soon, telling me when it is. The appointment, I mean."

"Or your coffee."

"Eh?"

"Don't let it go cold."

"I won't." He looks at me, appraising; then he eats; and then he says, "As good as your fry-ups, this is."

"Excuse me?"

"Almost as good," Steven says. "Alright?"

I nod my head. "Alright."

:::::::

We're all packed. Suits draped over the couch in their covers; everything else in the suitcase, apart from the box of mementos, as it won't fit.

I go into the bedroom.

"Right," he says, "I've checked the bathroom, and I've double-checked in the wardrobe and all the drawers – we've not left anything behind."

"All set, then."

"Yeah." He gazes around the room. "We will come back, won't we?"

"Long as you're paying..."

Steven smiles.

I go to the window, and he comes and puts an arm round my waist. I put mine round his shoulders.

We look out for a minute.

"Thank you, Brendan. For the weekend, I mean – for doing all that for me. I still can't get my head around it."

"I've told you, I didn't do anything. I just let Anne and Cheryl get on with it."

He gives me a shove. "I know that's a lie, Bren."

"Okay. Okay, Steven Brady Hay. You're welcome."

:::::::

I've settled the bill, and we've left our luggage at the reception desk while we've gone to the bar for one more cup of coffee before we go.

We're sitting drinking it, when Hugo comes in: the receptionist must have told him we were here, I guess.

"One for the road," I say. "Join us?"

"I won't stop," he says. "Just wanted to make sure everything was to your satisfaction."

"It's been brilliant," says Steven, and then he pauses to find the word he's looking for: "Perfect."

"Oh, well, that's very good to know," says Hugo. "I'll pass that on to the team. Thank you very much indeed."

"Good luck with your new job an' all," Steven says.

"Thank you. It's going to be quite a change after more than ten years in one place, but I'm looking forward to it. And I'm glad my last event before I leave, was such an enjoyable one."

"Even though you had my sister and Mitzeee bending your ear for weeks?" I say.

Hugo laughs. "They were a pleasure to work with."

:::::::

I pull up in our car park, and switch off the engine.

"Home sweet home," I say.

Steven smiles.

We get out of the car.

"So we said we're getting the black suits cleaned, didn't we?" he says. "So we'll leave them in the car, yeah, cos there's no point lugging them upstairs and then lugging them down again."

"True."

I get the case and the memento box out of the boot while he leans into the back seat and finds the right two suits to bring in.

"Right," he says. "Got your keys handy?"

"Yep."

I take the suitcase to the bedroom when we get upstairs. Steven follows, and lies the suits on the bed.

He's picked up the post on our way in, and he's standing flicking through it.

"Cold in here, innit," he says.

"I'll put the heating back on. What's that – a birthday card?"

"That's what I thought, but it's for you, look. Looks like Amy's writing, though, which is weird." He hands it to me. "The others are nothing, just leaflets and that."

"Junk mail."

"Yeah. So who's that from, then?"

"You were right – from Amy. Well, from all of them." I show him the front of the card – Thank You, embossed, very classy – then I read out what's inside: "She says, 'To Brendan, thank you for inviting us to your celebrations for Ste.' – Steven, should say. Never mind. Then she's signed it, 'From Simon, Amy, Leah and Lucas'. There you go."

I give it to him, and he examines it.

"That's nice of her, eh? And she didn't mess about either – she must've posted it yesterday, for it to get here today." He gives it back to me, and touches my arm. "Aww, I'm made up with that. I mean, you and her, I know you're never gonna be, like, 'Oh, let's forget the past and be BFFs', but if – "

"I'll get the heating switched on." I stop in the doorway, turn back and look at Steven. "Course, she saw me half-dressed on Sunday morning, didn't she, and the next day she's sending me nice wee messages in the post. That doesn't look like a coincidence to me..."

I dart out of the room when he pelts after me. He catches up, jumps on my back. I'm laughing. He clings on while I spin around, till he's laughing so hard himself that I shake him off. I send him on his way with a slap on his rear.

Once I've reset the central heating control in the hallway, I join him in the living room.

He's talking to the plant.

"Did Daddy Brendan not leave the heating on for you? I bet your little leaves have been shivering, in't they, all weekend."

Ninety per cent of the time when he has conversations with the plant – or the ducks, or the pigeons – I think he does it for my amusement. The other ten per cent, I'm not so sure.

"My mistake," I say. "Should'a left the television on as well, should I, to keep it company?"

"D'you think he's grown, Brendan?"

"Since Saturday morning?"

"Yeah. And we know they can get big, because we've seen one. So, what I'm saying is, we might have to get an orangery for him to live in." Steven throws me a smile over his shoulder. "Not for a few years yet, though."

"Good to know."

He's turned to look at the plant again. "Here, Planty, I'm a Brady Hay now, same as you."

Ninety per cent? Give or take.

:::::::

We're unpacking the suitcase, by which I mean, I'm pulling things out and throwing them into piles on the bed, and he's picking them up again and moving them to the correct piles.

"This is the only bad bit about going away," he says.

"You're telling me."

"How have we got so much dirty washing in, like, three days? It's all them shirts – that's what it is. Have you got a clean one for work tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Brendan, this is the shirts pile, not with the socks and boxies. Look, leave it. I'll do it, right? Why don't you go for a run or down the gym, eh?"

"Now?"

"Yes. Why not? You've not been for days, have you, and I know you want to."

"Ain't even thought about it."

"Yeah, but you're getting all..."

"What?"

"Ants in your pants. Just go, right, before you start getting moody, or everyone at work's gonna wish you'd stayed away. Go on. It's long enough since breakfast, so you're alright to exercise, aren't you."

"I'm not getting moody."

He smiles. "I know you're not – I just think you might. Know the signs, don't I. Anyway, I wanna nip out for a few bits, and I might take them suits to the dry cleaners as well. And then I'll sort us out something to eat – we'll have a late-lunch-slash-tea. Cos you're going in to work earlyish, aren't you?"

"Yeah, gonna catch up with Maria." I pause. "You don't mind if I go for a run?"

"Get changed, go on."

:::::::

"Miss me?" I say when I come in.

"I did, actually." He's sitting at the table with the laptop in front of him. "We've not been apart for more than, like, ten minutes or something, ever since you got home from work on Friday night. I'm used to seeing your big beardy face next to me all the time. Did you have a nice run?"

I nod. "Gym as well. Fucking hurts after a few days off, I'm telling you."

"Is that why you was so long? Because you were slow?"

"No. Took longer because I pushed through it, worked out harder."

"Idiot." He gets up, comes over. "Lets see, then."

"I stink." Still, I unzip my hoodie and shrug one arm out, and flex for him.

He feels the muscles with his hand.

"Very good," he says.

"What you been up to?"

"I took them black suits down the cleaners. Also, I found out they do a deal on shirts – washing and ironing them – if you take five in. I s'pose it's for people that work in offices. So I thought we could do that this week, instead of doing it ourselves. Because we had at least three shirts each over the weekend, plus a couple of yours from the end of last week ain't been washed yet, and there'll be another one after tonight. I reckon it would be worth the money, just to get them out the way."

"I agree." Then I nod towards the table. "What's all that?"

There's a brightly-patterned box file there, among other things.

"That's for doing me letters. You know, about my name, to the bank and that. Got some posh paper to print them on, and I got that box to keep it all together. Also, I got a form to renew me passport and change me name on that. The thing with the letters, though, is, the solicitors printed them off for me – template ones, they are – so I've got to copy them. Type them myself, I mean, plus put the names and addresses in, obviously. So, will you read them for me, please, before I print them? Just to see if I've made any mistakes."

"Course I will, Steven."

"I'm not gonna do them yet, cos I want to do the passport first. I might want you to help with that as well, because I know they send it back, don't they, if you fill it in wrong."

"Anything you need me to do."

"Ta. You can go and have your shower now."

:::::::

"Nice break?" Maria asks, when I meet her in the club.

"Not bad, yeah. It's a decent hotel, so."

"Great."

We go to the office, and sit either side of the desk.

"I take it there's nothing major, or I'd have heard by now."

"Exactly. No dramas. Pretty quiet weekend, actually, but it's always like that in January, once New Year is done and dusted. We had that birthday party upstairs, luckily, so that brought in some footfall."

"Went off okay?"

"Yes, they were happy with it. The menu Ste planned went down well, too – I must tell him – and Pearl did us proud."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Alastair. He dropped by on Sunday night."

"Any particular reason? Or just one of his royal visits?"

"Just a royal visit. He did say he would come by again in the next week or so while he's in the area, though, as he'd missed you this time. Anyway, he had a look at the books and he was happy."

"I want a word with him, anyhow, about the staff room remodel – once I've got some numbers to show him, that is. The builder called me over the weekend, left a voicemail. I need to call him back, get him in to give me a quote before Alastair graces us with his presence again..."

"I should think Alastair will stump up the cash. He must know the staff room is overdue a refurb."

"I'll show him, if necessary. Anything else I need to know about? Invoices? Drug dealers? Fights?"

Maria laughs. "Only invoices, thankfully."

"Glad to hear it. And what we talked about, Maria, about me taking Sundays off – I'll do that from now on, seeing as I took last Sunday off and you somehow managed without me..."

"Yes, I assumed you would, so I've got the rotas organised accordingly. Andre's happy to do a double shift every Sunday, as you know."

"Good. Not that I hope you need it, but I'm happier knowing there's some extra muscle on the premises when I'm not here."

"And talking of Andre," says Maria, "You know his brother runs a boxing gym?"

"He told me, yes."

"Well, they've just found out they've won some sort of community award they were up for, and Andre says his brother wants to bring some of their members in for a night out to celebrate, but he wanted to ask first. I think he's worried that we might not want a bunch of scary-looking guys coming in all together, and some of them being ex-offenders."

"And what did you say?"

"I said he should probably run it past you."

"Okay. I'll talk to him."

:::::::

Steven is loading a couple of orders into the dumb waiter when I go in to see him.

"Alright?" I say.

"Hiya. Fine, yeah. I feel like I've had a holiday from work, but I haven't, have I. I've just been off for me normal days off. It's just, a lot's happened, that's why. How about you?"

"All good. Just spoke to your builder friend. Gonna meet him here tomorrow morning about quoting for the staff room. Eleven o'clock. Wanna come, seeing as it's your interior design vision I'll be asking him to price up?"

He thinks for a moment. "No, I won't. He'd think I was just sticking me nose in cos I'm married to the boss."

"So?"

"So, I don't need to be there."

"I'll have to go through your ideas with you again before I see him, in that case, make sure I've remembered what you said. Don't wanna tell him the wrong wall to knock down..."

"I'll let you pretend you thought of it all by yourself."

"That's the plan. Unless he says it's unworkable, in which case I'll tell him it was you."

Steven knows I'm pulling his leg. Which is lucky, seeing as he's now got a knife in his hand.

"By the way," he says, "Speaking of being married to the boss... I've not been going on and on about the weekend to anyone, cos I know you don't like the staff all knowing our business."

"You can talk about it, Steven. Just leave out some of the more intimate details, though, yeah?"

"Spoilsport." He raises a single eyebrow at me. "That's the best bit."

"Yep."

"I did tell Maria about me name, though, when she came in to see me. I had to, right, because I need the address of the tax office off her, because I've got to write to them about it, plus she does the pay, doesn't she, so she'll need to know for when the name on me bank account changes."

"That explains why she gave me a funny look just now..."

"What sort of look?"

"I dunno." It was a smile she gave me, like she'd heard somewhat more about our weekend than she'd got out of me.

"Very descriptive," says Steven. "No, but seriously, I'm not gonna go round blabbing everything to everyone at work, so you don't have to worry."

"It's not a secret. Okay? It's a public thing, your name. It's meant to be said out loud."

Steven smiles at me. "I like that."

"Good." I'm going to go and give him a kiss, only my phone buzzes, and I check the screen. "What does she want?"

"Who?"

"It's Eileen." I answer the call. "Eileen – alright? The lads..?"

"Everything's fine," she says.

I mouth at Steven, Okay, because he's looking at me with concern. He turns back to his food prep.

"What can I do for you, in that case?" I say to Eileen.

"Nothing. Just thought I'd catch you for a minute, that's all. Sounds like quite a party you had – the boys have been on about it, non-stop since they got home."

"We're allowed to celebrate."

"God's sake, Brendan, don't be so defensive. Did I say a word?"

"No. Sorry."

"I was going to say, I... I can see it now. I watched the video, and... D'you know what? I even dug out the video from our wedding reception – first time in years – last night when I was up trying to get Rosie back to sleep, and I watched our first dance. I used to watch it, over and over, when you were out or away, or when you were with us but with that wall of yours getting taller by the day, brick by bloody brick. Used to watch us dancing, and think it was... God knows what I thought. Proof of something, I guess. Proof we were right? Happy? I can't even remember. And even then, I must've known it wasn't true, because I never used to watch the rest of the video, because we weren't in it, were we? Not together, I mean. I was there, with my pals and my sisters and everyone, and you were nowhere, or you were in the background somewhere, getting yourself paralytic."

"Nice as it is to reminisce, Eileen, I'm at work, so..."

"Fuck. Sorry, Brendan, I didn't intend to rake over the past. I'm tired out – blame it on that. What I wanted to tell you was, I see that dance of ours now, and it's so obvious. It's like an impersonation you're doing, going through the motions, of what a man does at his wedding dance. And it's seeing Paddy's video that's made me see it, crystal clear."

"What video? Padraig's – ?"

"From Saturday. The two of yous – you and Ste – dancing together. It's... I suppose it's the contrast between the two, that made me see."

Jesus.

"I didn't know there was a video."

"Well, Paddy's showed it to me, so there is."

Steven must be listening to my side of the conversation. "What video?" he says.

"Steven didn't know either," I tell Eileen.

"Well, Paddy's asleep now, but I'll get him to send it to you in the morning, okay?"

"Okay."

"I just wanted to tell you, Brendan. I don't know why."

"Okay."

"Good luck to yous both, anyhow."

"Appreciated. Night, Eileen."

"Night, Brendan."

"So," I say to Steven, "That was..."

"Eileen, I know. What did she want?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I think she's... I dunno. Think she's trying to understand things, y'know? The past, with knowing what she knows now, what I told her about..."

"About what happened when you were a kid?" He's wiping his hands on a tea towel, coming over to me.

"Yes. Seeing things clearer, is how she put it – me and you included."

"Blimey. And what was that about a video."

"Padraig. Apparently, he took a video of us, dancing..."

"Did he?" Steven looks as if I've told him he's won the Lottery. "No way?"

"Yes way. She's gonna tell him to send it over in the morning."

"Good old Paddy, eh?"

:::::::

Frankie Goes to Hollywood wake me up in the morning.

Steven is holding his phone to my ear, then as soon as he sees I'm awake, he hits replay and holds it in front of my face.

There we are. Other people are around us, but separated from us, as if there's a circle of the floor that's ours alone.

Coloured lights paint us here and there as we move. Not that we move very much: most of the movement is that of the other people.

The phone rings as the video ends, and Steven answers it.

"Hiya, Padders. … Yeah, we've just watched it now. Thanks for sending it, mate – we never even knew you took a video, so we were well surprised. … No, not at all. But you won't put it online, will you, or send it to anyone else." Then whatever Padraig says next, it makes Steven laugh. "Alright, well, we won't tell you again. You off to school now? … Alright, have a good day. Your dad sends his love an' all. Bye for now, Paddy. Bye."

"What'd he say?"

"He said he's sent it to you as well. And he said – " And here he does an impression of Padraig, complete with Irish accent and teenage attitude – "'Declan's told me not to share it. Auntie Cheryl's told me not to share it. Mum's told me not to share it. Now you've told me not to share it. So no, I'm not going to share it.'"

I laugh. "Okay."

"It's a good video, though, innit."

"If you like that sort of thing, I guess." I shut my eyes to avoid whatever look he gives me.

"We've got photos as well. We got an email – well, I did, and you must've got it as well, cos it's from Mitzeee and Cheryl, from that special email they made for the party."

"Secret Squirrel..."

He laughs. "Yeah. It says they've had some photos sent from some of the guests, and there'll most likely be more, but they've sent us some to be going on with. I've not looked yet. I thought we could look at them later, yeah, on the laptop."

Then The Power of Love starts playing again as he watches the video on repeat, while I go back to sleep.

:::::::

He's decided he'll go and do some shopping while I meet Pawel, but first, we head to our usual cafe intending to have a cup of coffee.

My phone rings just as we arrive outside.

"Your man Pawel. Cancelling, I betcha," I say to Steven, then I answer, "Brendan Brady."

"Brendan Brady, it's Pawel here. Is possible to meet you early? My job has changed today, you see, but I can come to your club on the way to the job, in ten minutes, if that's okay?"

"Yeah? Yeah, okay, see you there." I end the call.

"So he's not cancelled, then?" Steven says.

"No. No, he's early, gonna stop by the club on his way somewhere else."

"That's our coffee out the window, then. You could get one to take with you though, Bren, eh?"

Good idea. We go inside.

"You having one?" I ask him while we're waiting at the counter.

"No, I'll get off to the shops. I'm not gonna sit here on me own, am I."

"Your mate is," I say, because his lady friend, Margaret, is sitting at the table she usually shares with her husband, except he's not with her today.

Steven looks round at her, and she waves at us.

"I hope Ed's alright," he says to me quietly, then off he goes to ask her; he's back in a few seconds, fully informed. "Ed's fine, he's just out with his mates."

"Okay. You staying, now you've got company?"

"Staying here? I could do – I better ask her first, though. Hang on." And he goes off again, as if there's any question whether she'd like his company for a wee while.

"Morning. Usual?" the woman at the counter asks.

"Usual coffees. Only mine's to take away. He's staying."

I go across to Steven.

He's saying to Margaret, "I'll just go and get a – " And then he turns round and bumps into me.

"I've ordered your coffee," I tell him. "Something to eat with it?"

"Go on, Ste," says Margaret. "I'm not going to sit here, with you watching me eating."

"Alright, I'll have... Well, anything. Surprise me."

"Okay." I leave them to talk each other's ears off, and go and see what's on offer under the glass counter. "One of those for Steven, please."

The woman puts it on a plate. "I'll bring your coffees over."

I pay, then I take the plate and put it down in front of Steven, "A man is a millionaire when he has millionaire's shortbread," I say.

I wonder if it'll make him think of that shortbread metaphor he came up with, and the bed we were in when he told it to me.

From the look in his eyes, I'd say it does.

"When he has love, you mean," said Margaret. "So you two are rich alright."

Steven smiles at Margaret, and says to me, "Thank you."

I give him a wink.

"Got to head," I say. "I'll call you when I'm done, okay, see if you're still here."

"See you in a bit, then. Love you."

"Love you," I say: maybe I scratch my beard to cover it; then I say, "Keep an eye on him, Margaret. He's trouble, this one."

She laughs. "Don't you worry."

Our coffees come. I go out, and salute him with my takeaway cup as I walk past the window.

:::::::

I'm at the club before the builder gets there.

Get out my phone while I'm waiting, and read the message from Padraig: Mum said you wanted this OK

I click on the video. I remember this like a dream, but here it is: proof.