"Horlicks?" said Niall.

"And you can feck off. No, vodka and Red Bull. That's what they all drink these days. We'll give it a go later, for that fat bastard Kieran Kennedy."

"What, you want to die as well, do you?"

"No, but I want to be still pissed when I say goodbye to the old gobshite tomorrow. It wouldn't be right to do such a thing sober. Now, come on, talk to me. Tell me what you've done."

"Ye'd make a terrible priest, Cathal."

"That's the nicest thing ye've ever said to me."

"But I'll tell ye anyway."

"No no, only if ye want to. If it'll make ye feel better."

"I'm not feeling bad in the first place."

"Y'are."

"I'm not."

"Y'are."

"Okay. I am."

"I know y'are. But why?"

Niall bit his lip and then spoke. "Emmy and I crossed a line this morning." He stopped and stared into his pint.

Cathal looked at him expectantly. "And?"

"Oh, y'know."

"No, I don't."

"Ah, I don't know, either. It was the first time we'd found ourselves alone together since moving down and you know what it's like. Sometimes it feels right, y'know, I mean, not just right, but more than that, almost kind of predestined. But then we also know we can't go back there again, and yet sometimes it just feels, sort of, you know, stupid not to. That's all."

"What's all? It doesn't sound like a 'that's all' situation to me."

"It just felt ... well ... things got ... We had ... It went ... Oh, well, ye know."

"You and Emmy had sex?"

"No."

"What then?"

"We kissed."

"Where?"

"In the kitchen. What do you want to know that for?"

There was a barely perceptible silence before Cathal composed a reaction. Was he supposed to be shocked? He presumed, like everyone else, that his brother and Emmy had the kind of relationship where a kiss in the kitchen might or might not happen, depending on the opportunities available to them, and that Maya was a possible product of one of those opportunities reaching its natural end.

"That's disgustin'. The kitchen is a place for food preparation, you evil dog. How many times do I have to tell you, you must only ever kiss a member of the opposite sex in the bathroom, where hot water and carbolic soap are immediately to hand."

Niall didn't laugh. "It's just that I wish it was clearer in my head about what we are to each other, that's all."

"It's always seemed clear enough to everybody else."

"Well, it's not. You've got it wrong."

"Or maybe you have."

"No. We shouldn't have done what we did this morning. Emmy and I don't do that."

"Don't you?"

"Not for a very long time, anyway."

"So you do now. It's not rocket science, Niall."

"Have you forgotten about Kat?"

Cathal's face froze for a second, and even colored slightly. "Oh shite. D'ye know, I had, I honestly had. I'm sorry, I really had. But I've never met the girl, have I? To be fair. And ye've not mentioned her since you arrived. I'd forgotten her name to be honest wid ye."

There was another small silence.

"The thing is, Kat isn't really the problem. I mean, she is in one way, but in a much bigger way she's not. I don't ... it's not like ... Oh, I think I might just be the most useless bollocks in..."

"So what is the problem?"

"I don't know."

"Is it good old Catholic guilt? Because I can't help you there."

"No, it's more complicated than that."

"Jaysus, more complicated than Catholic guilt?"

"It's got something to do with Maya, Emmy's daughter."

"Niall, I know who Maya is, for God's sake."

"Well, you didn't know who Kat is."

"Oh, and she's been at the center of your life for years, has she? Of course I know who Maya is. Not only have I actually met her on several occasions, but are you aware you talk about her as if she were your own kid, my niece?"

"Well, she's not, I can assure you of that. But she's important to me, really really important. She trusts me. And being involved with her mother is, y'know, probably not helpful."

"Helpful to what?"

"I don't know."

"Did she see?"

"No, of course she didn't."

"So? Does it matter?"

"What if we can't redraw that line?"

"Draw it in another place." Cathal shrugged. "Look, you and Emmy, maybe-"

"No. It's too complicated. We've done all that. We work fine as friends."

"You expect me to buy that?"

"Yeah, you should."

"So just tell me again. Maya isn't my niece?" Cathal was teasing his brother, trying to catch him out in a lie. At least, that's what he thought he was doing. Later, he'd wonder if he was digging for something else.

"Maya's not your niece," Niall said slowly.

"Thank you."

"It's a pleasure."

"Okay, so let's talk about Emmy. Does she want to redraw the line?"

"We didn't talk about it. I had to get the plane."

"God, Niall, you're a dog."

"No, we did sort of talk about it. It'll be fine. I've just got to stop jumping the gun."

"It sounds to me as if you've already discharged the feckin' thing. Why don't you think these things through before you do the deed, not after?"

"I know. It just happened."

"D'ye love her?"

"It's not that easy, y'know. She and Maya come as a package. It's not just about whether I-"

"You love her."

"I don't know. Yeah, of course I do, but..."

"You love her, and you're attracted to her. What's the problem?"

Niall shrugged this time. "History. She's hard work sometimes. I'm not always the best person to deal with her."

"Do you want it to happen again, to go farther?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, how would you feel if she met someone else? Brought him back to the house? If you had to watch them go up to bed together?"

"I don't know. I think I'd be okay. I mean, that's what I do, isn't it?"

"Jaysus Christ, Niall, will you tell me something you do know?"

"Okay. Kat wants a kid."

"Wait wait wait wait wait." Cathal poured the rest of his second Coors Lite into his glass and downed it as if he hadn't had a drink for a fortnight. "What are you? Bus Atha Cliath? Nothing for ages and then the whole fleet comes at once. A baby?"

"Well, I don't mean a goat, do I?"

"Is it that serious? You've only just met her."

"At our age everything's serious, isn't it?"

Cathal ignored him. It hurt too much to think of how unserious his liaisons were lately.

"Do you want one?"

"No, probably not."

"Would that be because ye've already got one?"

"What d'you mean?"

Cathal looked at his brother suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.

"She's not mine," Niall told him forcefully. He took a photograph out of his wallet and handed it over. "I wouldn't mind if she was, but she's not."

Cathal held it with both hands and studied it carefully. Maya had a Gallic hint about her for sure. Her long auburn hair reminded him of his sisters; she was sitting on a dark wooden staircase in a T-shirt and wellies. She was all leg.

"Is this Bodinnick?"

"Last week."

"Looks woodwormy."

"I'll get it treated. What d'you think?"

"Well, she's grown a lot since I last saw her. Still looks like you, though, don't you think? She's got your ... your ... your something."