ran into your mum in the town the other week.’ Johnny hesitated waiting for me to say something then broke the pause again. ‘She said you’d been not well.’
‘I don’t know where she got that from.’
‘You’re all right then?’
I held my arms out.
‘See for yourself.’
Johnny looked dubious.
‘That’s good.’
I forced my face into a smile.
‘I’m doing fine, you know what my old dear’s like. I get a cold and she thinks I’m on my bloody deathbed. She’s aye been like that.’ I strained the smile wider. ‘Like the man said, reports of my death were much exaggerated.’
Johnny nodded, his eyes still on my face.
‘Glad to hear it.’
From across the room I caught sight of a slim, dark-haired woman in her late twenties. Even before she started making her way towards us I knew she was with Johnny. Johnny’s dark curls and quick smile had given him his pick of women, but he’d always gone for good Catholic girls, fresh-faced Madonnas who refused to sleep with him. Johnny had left his faith at the schoolhouse gates, but in those days it seemed that the tenets of the church were destined to rule his sex life. Johnny’s girl was clear-skinned and sober, but her eyes were amused. She slid her hand round his waist, his grin reappeared and I reckoned that after a certain age even good Catholic girls started to put out.
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