all the men there were lying, cheating, ugly bastards. Lucy told me later that I pinned some poor guy up against the bar and insisted he account for the sins of his sex. Apparently it’s all down to genes.
I’m not usually this aggressive when I go out and I’ve never believed in giving men a hard time – it’s much more fun to flirt with them and I’m normally a happy drunk – but these were not normal times. I do have a vague recollection of Keith from the party. He seemed to materialize somewhere near the end of the night, all neat shirt and affability. He was exactly what I didn’t want – someone nice who wasn’t drunk and foolishly thought I wasn’t either.
‘Hi!’ he said.
‘Pardon?’
‘I said hi! Hello!’
‘Oh. Hello.’
‘This place is a bit insane, isn’t it?’
‘Is it? I kind of like it.’
‘I prefer a quieter place myself.’
‘No, I like it here, it’s good and buzzy, you know? You feel like you’re alive in a place like this. Where would you prefer to be? Somewhere like O’Grady’s where everybody falls asleep watching the fire?’
‘I like O’Grady’s. But I see your point.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘Got dragged in.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’m Keith, by the way,’ he said, proffering his hand.
‘Annabelle,’ I said immediately.
‘Annabelle what?’
‘Annabelle… Jones.’
I think we stalled there, and before he thought of anything else to say I was dragged off to look at someone’s tattoo.
I went home and woke up with the hangover I deserved. He went home and looked up my number. (Which wasn’t there, of course, because I never give out my real name to strange men in crowded pubs. And even if I did I’ve always been self-important enough to go ex-directory.) It seemed he had a hunt on his hands. Absolutely irresistible!
It was fruitless, however. Having surfaced for a brief moment, I returned to the depths of the city. Except, of course, that I bumped into him in the same pub the very next week. I think it was even the same table. That’s Limerick for you.
I was more civil this time. Something at the back of my mind suggested I might owe him an apology. There wasn’t any need to say much. For a quiet guy he was doing an awful lot of talking. A lot of gesturing, smiling, beseeching; he was being a bit girly, really. But it did give me a chance to sit back and take him in, size him up. Just to pass the time, really, because he was absolutely not my type.
He was one of those guys, and it only happens with men, that the instant you look at them you know exactly what they were like as a child. I could see him in primary school in grey trousers and maroon knitted jumper. His hair would be fairer and fuller but the expression of his eyes would be exactly the same. A queer mix of confidence – because he was intelligent and knew he was loved – but also an expectation of hurt, of not quite knowing what to do with the world. It’s an image I can never fully separate from the thirty-two-year-old adult who likes to take himself just a little bit seriously.
‘So what is it you said you did?’ I asked, phasing back in for a while.
‘I work in the chemical industry. At the moment I’m with a company in Shannon that blah blah blah blah blah blah…’
He didn’t move his mouth very much as he spoke: his lips seemed to revolve gently around his teeth, which were even and pearly.
‘And what is it you do?’
I was tempted to lie, I’m always tempted to lie, but I didn’t.
‘I’m a solicitor.’
‘A solicitor?’
‘A solicitor.’
‘That’s impressive.’
‘No, it isn’t. It’s just a job. The firm I work for mainly deals with the small stuff. It’s quite boring, really.’
‘Well, I’m impressed. I must take your number in case I ever end up in trouble.’
I wished he wasn’t so impressed and I assured him hastily that I would be useless to him were he to ring me from Henry Street Garda Station in the small hours of the morning. He still seemed impressed.
The rest of that night went on with more people joining the table, people he knew, people I sort of knew, people it turned out we both knew. There were too many conversations happening at the same time. And none was about anything. It was just dawning on me that maybe I was getting too old for the super-pub scene.