Maybe it was the wedding he’d never had. I strolled over to read the condolences. A mountain of them, you’d swear Laura had a lock on Mother Theresa. The tributes to a woman who never was. I felt if no one had showed, Laura would have respected that. One card I had to pick up, it read:

With gravest respects,

Louis MacNeice

‘What!’

Doc touched my arm, said, ‘Can I get you a bit o’ grub, a drink?’

‘No… no thanks, you don’t have to play host… OK’

‘Jaysus, don’t bite the face off me, I’m just trying to be hospitable.’

‘What? Oh right – look Doc, I’m sorry, it’s just there’s something weird going on.’

Doc pushed a drink into my hand, asked, ‘Are we still on?’

‘You mean next week. Jeez, I dunno – under the circumstances, shouldn’t we, you know.’

‘You think I’m not bloody up to it. Don’t worry about me fella, I’ll keep my end up.’

‘No, I mean, the cops are all over us.’

‘And, if we don’t go it’s as plain as a confession.’

‘But better than actually getting caught.’

Doc swallowed a huge drink. Didn’t knock a feather outa him, gave me the no shit stare, said, ‘Dave, I have to have this money, OK…’

‘We’re not hurting.’

He slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand, said, ‘Will yah listen to him! I’m up to me arse with school fees, the memorial to Laura…’

‘The what?’

‘In marble. I promised Father Cleary the new Church wing would be Laura’s wish.’

I couldn’t believe it, said, ‘I can’t believe it. Well be in the wing – on friggin’ Parkhurst.’

‘Are you with me or not Dave.’

What could I do. He was the only person ever to fight my corner.

‘OK… but.’

‘Good man, now drink up – you’d think it was your funeral.’

I went back later to get the condolence card but it was gone. A bad feeling like talking death was all over me, whisperin’ – ‘soon’.