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late to bother my arse."
    Anton slid into the booth with three full glasses. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Are you on your tod, Síle?"
    "Oh yeah, is Kathleen in the loo?" Jael scanned the pub belatedly.
    "Actually, regrets, she wasn't feeling great," said Síle, aware of stretching the truth.
    "Is it this weird lurgy that's going the rounds?" asked Anton.
    She shook her head. "Mad busy at the hospital, as ever. Speaking of which, did you drive the lad to Casualty?"
    "Did not," Jael snorted. "Stuck a few Band-Aids on him and told him not to ring unless he bleeds through them."
    Anton straightened his tie. "I'm still not a hundred percent convinced about a male babysitter."
    His wife knuckled him on the thigh. "I refuse to have this argument again. It's not teenage boys doing all the child abuse, it's priests and straight men like you."
    "What, me personally?" He rolled his eyes at Síle. "As if I'd have the time or energy. Quick wank in the shower once a fortnight, if I'm up for it."
    "Conor's a pet," said Jael. "I bet Yseult keeps him up half the night playing 'Demon Quest.'"
    "That's your fault, by the way," Anton told Síle.
    Síle nodded. "I'd never have downloaded it for her if I'd known my godchild had such an addictive personality."
    "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," said Jael, complacent.
    "Marcus, my man." Anton stood up to give their tall, shaven-haired friend a hug.
    "Nice jacket," Jael murmured, "though that shirt's all wrong with it."
    "Nice haircut, shame about the face," the Englishman countered, squeezing onto the banquette.
    Síle made room for him and kissed him on the ear. "So tell, tell. Apparently he has major news."
    "You got laid," Jael decided. "You have an evil glow about you."
    Marcus smiled, and scratched his head.
    "That wouldn't count as major, " Síle objected.
    "Depends who it is. What about a celebrity? Maybe he's bagged some singer from a boy band."
    Marcus made a face. "I've never fancied chicken. Maybe when I'm older; they say when you hit forty, you develop a taste for cradle-snatching."
    "What a horrible prospect!" said Síle, who was going to pass that milestone in October. Her mind strayed back to Jude Turner. She'd looked early twenties, but how could you be the curator of anything at that age?
    "Getting laid mightn't be major news," Anton put in, "but getting an actual boyfriend would."
    "Give it a rest, lads," said Marcus, sheepish. "I like being single."
    "Do you remember that time in the Stag's Head when some girl of all of nineteen claimed to be celibate?" Síle asked him. Turning to the others, she said, "Marcus wanted to know was she celery or halibut."
    "Bet that threw her," said Jael with a cackle.
    "What's—"
    His wife interrupted Anton. "Oh you must have heard that one."
    "Celery's when you say no to everyone," Marcus explained; "halibut is when no one'll have you."
    "And you're still celery," Síle assured him.
    "Crisp and crunchy."
    "You never told us your news," Anton complained.
    "Okay, here goes. I am the proud owner of a picturesque hovel in the North West."
    A Silence. "Northwest what? Northwest Dublin, meaning somewhere near Stoneybatter?" Síle asked without much hope.
    " The North West, meaning the wilds of County Leitrim."
    She dropped her face into her hands.
    "Sorry, ducks," Marcus said.
    "You don't sound one bit sorry," Jael pointed out.
    "I can't help being excited," Marcus protested. "A great big house of my own! And it's time I got out anyway, this city's becoming a hole."
    "But it isn't fair, I've lost half my friends to the sticks," Síle protested. "Trish's doing shiatsu in West Cork, Barra's tele-working in Gweedore ... I know Dublin's insane unless you've the money for it, but do you all have to go so far and seem so happy about it?"
    "You won't lose me, flower; I'll come up for weekends." Marcus knotted his fingers into hers. "For me it was about turning thirty-five."
    "What's the big deal about thirty-five?" demanded Jael.
    "You know, half the