“Do you have a photo?”
I show him one of the photos of Fiona playing with the doll house.
“She’s lovely. She’s the spitting image of Ava when she was that age.”
“She is.”
Callan points at the doll house. “Did you make that?”
“Aye.”
“It’s amazing. You’ve got your dad’s talent. Why bar work instead of carpentry?”
“Carpentry is just a hobby. I’m not that good.”
Callan snorts. “Don’t sell yourself short, Rory. If that doll house is anything to go by, you’re amazing at it.”
I’m not sure how much he can tell from a photograph, but I smile at the compliment anyway.
“How did you do in your junior certificate?” Callan asks.
The junior certificate is awarded after taking exams at the end of the third year of secondary school. Callan and his family left a couple of months before we were due to take ours.
“I fucked them up royally,” I reply. “You?”
“Same. But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”
“I’d sorted myself out by the time I took the exams for the leaving certificate in the sixth year. Or rather, Dad told me I had to improve my grades or he’d stop letting me use his tools.”
“I’m glad it worked.”
“Me too. I got a job in a local bar as soon as I was eighteen, and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.”
“I know you never wanted to join your dad on the fishing boats.”
“I get seasick.”
Callan laughs. “Aye, I remember. There’s not much call for a seasick fisherman.”
“None at all. But I don’t think I’d have gone into the trade, even if I did have sea legs. Some of my earliest memories as a kid are of Mam being worried sick while Dad was out on the boat, especially if the weather was bad. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“Nor would I. I really am sorry about your dad, Rory.”
“Mam always said it would be the sea that took him. She was right.” I tighten my grip on the chains. “I miss him.”
Callan puts his hand over mine. His touch is warm and comforting.
I sniff. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. I wish I’d been there for you.”
“So do I.”
We glance at each other, and for a heartbeat, our stares lock.
Callan looks away. “What about this kinky stuff you’re into? How did that happen?”
“It was a guy I met at the bar I was working at. He was called Darragh. I was twenty-five. He was two years younger and a regular who liked to chat me up. Eventually, I built up enough courage to flirt back. He was the first guy I did anything with.”
