Scrabbling around in her brain for something to fill the awkward silence as she tended to the sizzling bacon, Sweeney brought the conversation full circle. ‘Do you still like Guinness?’
He frowned at the bowl, clearly puzzled by the question. ‘Of course.’
‘Well, I doubt they’re going to revoke your Irish citizenship.’
‘Oh, right. Yes.’ He laughed but it was more sharp than relaxed. ‘I’ll just make that toast.’
Pushing the bowl towards her, he moved to the other side of the kitchen where the toaster was located—but which suddenly didn’t seem far enough.
Not nearly far enough.
*
Ten minutes later they were sitting in their squatter’s chairs, balancing their plates on their laps, munching their way through bacon and eggs, their steaming cups of tea sitting on the ends of the long wooden arms.
The change of scene seemed to have worked, the awkwardness of the kitchen dissipating as they fell into their now familiar routine. Sweeney was very much relieved as they ate companionably, enjoying the Saturday morning ambience.
‘What are your plans for the day?’ Fin asked.
‘It’d be nice to get out of here, wouldn’t it? Go for a wander down the main street, maybe eat out somewhere or see a movie? But between the Murphys and their Feeney watch and Marjorie, I’ll have to settle for editing. God knows I have plenty to be working on. I started a folder for a coffee table book during Covid to pitch to non-fic publishers but I never got around to finishing it, so I could kickstart that again.’
‘Yeah?’ Fin’s eyes lit up. ‘That’s a great idea. You must have a thousand pictures you could use.’
Sweeney laughed at the understatement. ‘I do.’ But therein lay the problem. It was a big job, which overwhelmed her and stopped her even thinking about it. ‘What about you? What’s on your agenda?’
He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. ‘Superstar stuff.’
Sweeney burst out laughing, which was full throated and genuine and felt sogood. ‘That’s suitably vague.’
‘Well, I’m new to the gig. Haven’t quite figured it out yet.’
‘Doesn’t come with a manual, huh?’
‘Nope.’ Fin shook his head. ‘And anyway. It should beyouwho’s getting all the glory. You’re the one taking the photos.’
Sweeney pressed the back of her hand against her forehead in a faux dramatic gesture. ‘’Tis always the artist who gets forgotten.’
‘Such a tragedy,’ he sighed with equal drama before they both laughed then shovelled more food into their mouths.
Yes, this was good. This feltnormal.
Glancing at his watch, Fin took a sip of tea. ‘I’m surprised my mother hasn’t already called about last night’s Insta photos.’
Sweeney smiled. His mother had called every morning to enthuse over her images, which, she couldn’t lie, was very good for her ego.
As if Rhonda knew they were talking about her, Fin’s phone chose that very moment to ring, and they looked at each other for a comical beat before he picked it up. Flipping it around for Sweeney to see, she gave a half laugh as the nameMumflashed on the screen.
Jabbing the answer button, Fin put it on speaker and placed it on the arm of his chair.
‘Morning, Mum,’ he greeted her as he went back to his food.
‘Fin! Oh my god. I’ve had a dozen calls already about the Instagram post and it’s not even seven-thirty. Mai says it’s gone viral.Viral, Fin. Another one. I tell you, this whole thing was meant to be. You coming back here, the team needing a coach. And Sweeney! She’s an absolute whiz with that camera, isn’t she? I’m going to have to get that photo off her, too.’
Sweeney tried hard not to laugh as Fin waited for an opening. ‘You’re on speaker, Mum. Sweeney’s here, too.’
‘Oh, Sweeney!Darling,’ she enthused. ‘Such amazing photos, aren’t they, Connie?’
‘Some of your best yet, sweetie.’ Connie’s voice was a little muffled.
