“We’re meant to call them passionfruit martinis now,” I tell him.
“Really? How dull,” Lyric says.
I start putting the ingredients into a cocktail shaker. It’s a bit more complicated and time-consuming than the negroni, but it’s still fun to make.
“What are your hobbies?” Lyric presses as I start to do the trick-shaking again.
“I make stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Aye, with wood. Not so much these days, but I used to do a lot back in Wexford.”
“Interesting.”
I pour the cocktail into a martini glass and add some Prosecco and half a passionfruit before giving it to Toby.
“What’s the most impressive thing you’ve made?” Lyric asks.
I scratch my beard as I mull his question over. “I made a fancy crib for my niece.” I chuckle. “She’s too big for it now. She’ll be asking for a four-poster bed next.”
Lyric arches an eyebrow. “A four-poster bed? Is that something you could make?”
“If I had the tools and space, aye, but I don’t.”
“Do you have a business card by any chance?”
“No.” I wave my hands in front of my chest, palms facing Lyric. “It’s just a hobby.”
“That’s a shame. I’m always in search of props. We could have done business.”
I shake my head. “As I said, it’s a hobby. I don’t have a workshop here in London. The biggest thing I’ve made recently is a doll house.”
“For your niece?”
“Aye.”
“That’s still impressive.”
Toby sips the passionfruit martini and hums. “This is good. We should come here again.”
“I’d be up for that,” Lyric says.
I notice the door open from the corner of my eye. I look across in time to see Callan walk in. He stops, takes a deep breath, catches my eye and offers me a shaky smile before walking to the bar.
“Irene.”
She’s at the other end of the bar, serving a customer. It’s Murphy’s law that business has picked up right in time for me to be too busy to help Callan.
She looks over at me.
“The electrician is here.” I nod to Callan.
“Wonderful.” Irene finishes with her customer and then approaches Callan. “It’s through here. You come highly recommended. Don’t let me down.”
She takes him through to the kitchen.
Lyric sips his whiskey and then nods at the kitchen door. “You like him, don’t you?”
