‘Do you know how to play forty-five, Luca?’ Espie asked him.
‘Haven’t a clue.’
‘Ah, not just new blood,’ Jim said. ‘Prey!’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t let them fleece you,’ Espie said.
‘We only play for small change,’ Claire said to Luca, as she sat beside him.
As the evening wore on, Claire kept them supplied with a steady supply of food and booze. It was good to see her mother enjoying herself, and she was glad that Luca seemed happy too. He was a big hit with the ladies, who fussed over him, plying him with pizza and cake, and telling him how handsome he was.
‘It’s good to have another man to swell the ranks,’ Michael told him. ‘We’re sorely outnumbered, aren’t we, Jim?’
‘Aye. We’re a dying breed,’ Jim agreed.
‘Well, women live longer,’ Espie said, ‘because we’re tougher and lead exemplary lives. Speaking of which, you must come for my birthday next month, Luca. We’re having a bit of a party.’
‘Great! I’d love to.’
‘I’ll be sixty-nine, but I’m celebrating anyway.’
‘So, where are you from, Luca?’ Jim asked, during a lull, while they waited for Lily to play a card.
‘I grew up here, in Dublin. I was adopted from Romania.’
‘Romania? Were you in one of those awful orphanages?’ Nancy asked, with a pitying expression.
‘Yeah. I was in a couple, actually.’
Claire shot him an apologetic look and he gave her a little shrug, seemingly not bothered.
‘Ah, that’s terrible,’ Jim said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry for that.’
‘Have another piece of cake,’ Mary said, sliding the plate across to him. ‘Sure there isn’t a pick on you.’
‘They were desperate places, weren’t they?’ Michael shook his head sadly.
‘It was no Disneyland,’ Luca said.
‘Shooting was too good for that bastard Ceausescu and his wife,’ Espie said.
‘But you’re here now,’ Jim said consolingly, putting a hand over Luca’s on the table. ‘That’s the main thing.’
‘And you’ve got a great girl there,’ Michael added, giving Claire a wink.
Claire squirmed, but Luca grinned as he took another huge slice of cake.
‘It’s still your turn, Lily,’ Espie said, nudging her.
‘What’s trumps again?’
‘Diamonds,’ everyone chorused patiently.
‘Do you have any songs of your people, Luca?’ Michael asked later, as they all set up to play.
‘He’s from Dalkey,’ Claire said.
‘Sorry. I haven’t been in Romania since I was seven. Anyway, I’m not a singer.’
