‘Even Auntie Flo told me that you will have kissed the Blarney Stone.’
‘Well, you can tell Auntie Flo only the very lucky few receive my gold star jibber-jabber.’
Star smiled. ‘I must pop over and see her later. Get her fish and chips.’
‘Can’t Skye do it again this week if you’re tired?’
‘No. It relaxes me, seeing her and Boris.’
‘Boris? Don’t tell me she’s found a fella!’
‘No, he’s her potty-mouthed, or rather potty-beaked, swearing budgerigar. Proper hilarious, the things he comes out with. I should video him on my phone so you can hear.’
‘Well, maybe I can come up and meet the pair of themin the flesh and feathers one of these days. And the legendary Estelle, of course.’
‘Then you would run for the hills.’
Conor leaned across and kissed Star’s forehead. ‘Nah. I’m not going anywhere. See you Sunday and no more tears, OK?’
As he disappeared back down through the crowds now forming in Ferry Lane Market, Star noticed the Oscar Wilde quote on the card she had put up on the shelf beside her:The very essence of romance is uncertainty. She thought it wasn’t only the essence of romance that was uncertain, the very essence of bloody life was too.
