Next Clodagh started up a long, huddled head-to-head with a woman from another table. They looked as though they were solving the problems of the world, but when Ashling eaves-dropped, all they seemed to be saying to each other was, ‘If you don’t have chirn yourself, you can’t understan’.’ ‘Thass right. If you don’t have chirn yourself, you can’t understan’.’

Then Clodagh went to the loo, and when she hadn’t returned to their table after ten minutes Ashling anxiously scanned the room and saw her in intimate conversation with a trio of girls. The next time she looked, Clodagh was laughing with a man. Shortly after that Clodagh was talking to two boys, making elaborate hand gestures that looked exactly like she was demon-strating how to express breast milk. But she seemed happy – and so did the two boys – so Ashling decided to let her alone. Not long afterwards Ashling went to the bar and as she placed her order she saw Clodagh weaving between tables, then bumping into one, sending a dozen drinks rocking. ‘Whoops!’ she exclaimed loudly.

Two men leaning on the bar were also watching Clodagh.

‘That was close,’ one remarked, as the drinks just managed to pull themselves back from toppling.

‘Ah, yeah,’ the other replied, ‘but she has two kids so she doesn’t get out much.’

‘Excuse me, could you change one of those Red Squares to a Red Bull?’ Ashling, on impulse, asked the barman. Clodagh had had enough to drink.

But amazingly, drunk and all as she was, Clodagh knew she’d been fobbed off with an alcohol-free drink, and turned slightly nasty. ‘Mus’ think I’m a big gobshite,’ she complained. ‘Mus’ think I’m a big, stupid gobshite.’

‘Should we get her home?’ Marcus murmured.

Ashling nodded, so grateful for him.

‘I’m not leaving until I’ve had another drink,’ Clodagh insisted belligerently.

Marcus was sweet, as though explaining to a child. ‘You see, Ashling and I want to go home, and it seems like a good idea to drop you off.’

‘Well, go home,’ Clodagh ordered.

‘But we’d really like you to come with us in the taxi.’

‘I might,’ Clodagh said sulkily. ‘But it’s only because I like you.’

‘Do you need any help?’ Ted asked hopefully.

‘No.’ Ashling was firm. ‘We’re just going to drop her home to her husband.’

Clodagh enveloped Ted in a big hug, then puckered up – Ashling flinched – and kissed him on the forehead. ‘You’re cute,’ she said fondly. ‘Don’t forget to come and visit me.’

‘I won’t!’

‘Come on.’ Ashling took her arm, but Clodagh had turned around and was trying to get to someone else.

‘Bye, Jack,’ she carolled.

‘Bye Clodagh, nice to meet you,’ Jack smiled.

‘Nice to meet you too.’ Clodagh’s voice was like cream. ‘Hope to see you again soo- Ow! Ashling! You’re pulling my arm off!’

Grimly, Ashling tugged her towards the exit.

In the back seat of the taxi, Clodagh complained bitterly and at length about what spoilsports Ashling and Marcus were, how she didn’t want to go home, hew she’d been enjoying herself, how she had two children and didn’t get out much… Then, abruptly, mid-rant, silence fell. Her chin on her chest, she’d passed out peacefully.

When Dylan answered the front-door, Marcus said cheerfully, ‘Delivery of a drunken woman for you. Sign here.’

With much stumbling and hoisting, Clodagh was helped in, then Marcus and Ashling got back into the taxi to go home.

‘Have you a pen?’ Marcus asked Ashling, as they whizzed through the dark streets to Ashling’s flat.

‘Yip.’

‘And a piece of paper?’

Already Ashling was seaching.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched Marcus scribble something. It looked remarkably like, ‘Delivery of a drunken woman for you. Sign here.’ But before she could be sure, he’d folded it away.

The following day, Ashling’s phone rang at a quarter past eight. The earliness of the hour meant it would be Clodagh, in the horrors. And indeed it was.

‘I’ve been awake since half six,’ she said humbly. ‘I just wanted to say sorry for last night. I’m really sorry, I’m so sorry. Did I make a terrible fool of myself? I suppose the problem is that because I’ve two children I don’t get out much.’

‘You were fine,’ Ashling said sleepily. ‘Everyone thought you were great.’

Clodagh? Marcus mouthed at her. Ashling nodded.

‘You were lovely,’ Marcus called from his pillow. ‘Very sweet.’

‘Who’s that? Marcus? That’s decent of him. Tell him I thought he was brilliant.’

‘She thought you were brilliant,’ Ashling relayed, turning to Marcus.

Clodagh’s relief only lasted a moment. ‘I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to going out and I enjoyed myself so much, but now you’ll never let me come out with you again. It was the nicest night I’ve had in years and I blew it.’

‘Don’t be mad, you can come out with us any time you like!’

‘Any time,’ Marcus echoed.

‘Um, Ashling, would you have any idea how I got home?’

‘Marcus and I dropped you off in a taxi.’

‘Oh yes,’ Clodagh said confidently. ‘I remember… Actually, I don’t,’ she crumbled. ‘I remember the comedians being on stage, but I don’t remember much after that. I had a horrible feeling that I’d knocked over someone’s pint, but I think I just imagined that.’

‘Um, yeh.’

‘But it’s very bad not to remember how I got home.’ Clodagh recommenced flaying herself with guilt. ‘Oh my good God,’ her voice dropped several octaves into a disbelieving groan. She had suddenly remembered Something too awful. ‘I have a horrible feeling… ah no, I couldn’t have.’

‘What?’

‘These girls I was talking to in the ladies’, one of them was pregnant. I think I offered to show her how well my episiotomy stitches had healed. Oh bloody hell, tell me I didn’t,’ she moaned softly. ‘I’m imagining it. I must be.’