The Irish are always quick with a story, especially if they’ve been drinking, which for a lot of us is most of the time. Or maybe for most of us it’s a lot of the time. Either way, drinking and storytelling seem to go hand in hand. 

I know this better than most. I grew up in the pubs. 

My father was a famous footballer in England. He even played for the national team, then met my mum in a pub just outside London when the team came back to celebrate a particularly fine victory. 

If you asked him, he would say it was love at first sight. If you ask her, it was mayhem that night, and she simply had too much to drink. At any rate, fall in love they did, and though her father didn’t approve, they married, and he whisked her off to a house in Ireland where they had me and my baby sister, Eiran. 

My father took his fame and his earnings and began opening restaurants and pubs of his own all across Ireland and a few in England as well. For a long time, we didn’t live rich, but we always lived well. Eiran and I spent our summers and breaks from school traveling with our parents all about the countryside, so he could keep an eye on it all. 

While Da conducted business, Mum was always carting us off to the nearest city or township to see whatever history may have existed there. We must have visited every museum, art gallery and exhibit known to man, but it was her way of keeping us occupied and instilling a bit of culture in us. It also taught us a fair deal more about history than most of our professors knew in school. 

After my granddad died, Mum spent more and more time with my grandmother at their estate outside London, but Da mostly stayed in Ireland. They never stopped loving each other, they just got along better when they weren’t living together, and neither one was willing to give up their lifestyle for the other. Mum preferred England. She said it suited her better and that was probably true. 

Besides, by the time we were ready for prep, my grandmother insisted on sending us to boarding schools in England. She said it was time we learnt some of the finer points of life, and Grams wasn’t someone you argued with. Mum agreed, and Da stayed out of it. 

I think Grams was convinced it was all a matter of breeding, and as such you could breed things out of a person. The Irish pub culture had never set well with her, but like a thoroughbred that just knows how to run, I swear it was there, in my blood. So was football. Except for me it was Gaelic football I came to love. 

Gaelic football is probably unlike any other sport you’ve seen. It’s a combination of soccer, rugby and basketball–kind of like Quidditch, but without the broomsticks. I played every chance I got–in the schoolyard and on club teams and even at college. Of course, I often wound up at the pubs afterward, even before I was of age, and if my mates and I got kicked out of one place, I’d bring them over to one of Da’s pubs and we’d figure out how to get served anyway. As you can imagine, that made me one of the more popular chaps around, especially with the girls. 

As it happens, girls don’t have much of a tolerance for beer, and almost none for whiskey, but at fifteen, I’d developed quite an appetite for all three. Da would look the other way when I came home langered, or even drive the girl home if it got too late. After all, he’d been a boy once. 

Da understood, but Mum was appalled. 

If I was staying in England, she never heard me come home. The house was just too big, and her wing was on the opposite side of the courtyard. Most of the time I snuck in through the servant’s quarters and made my way through the back kitchens. I'm certain she wasn't oblivious to my habits, but all that good breeding she talked about forced her to pretend I wasn’t sick with the Irish flu next morning. 

Still, I knew better than to bring girls home to Gram’s house. The one time I tried, I was lectured on honor and decency until I thought I might suffocate. We learned the ropes fairly quickly, Eiran and I. When we were in England, we acted like good little Brits, and when we came to Ireland, it was usually to have some fun. 

We had it pretty well sorted.

Sort of.

Eiran loved Ireland and embraced the culture. She did well in the English schools, but as soon as she was old enough for univer- sity, she headed back to Dublin to attend Trinity College for nursing. Nursing fit Eiran. She was a softhearted sort who was all the time taking in wounded animals and the like. Ended up marrying one of her patients, as a matter of fact, but that’s another story. 

It’s not that I minded English schools. I felt very comfortable in England and could easily switch accents and mannerisms depending on the crowd. When I was at Eton I fit easily with the Brits, but home in Ireland I fell right back into step with all my mates. Clearly, I was half Mum and half Da. Two more different people could not exist, and yet they did. They inhabited the same body. 

Never did get over my penchant for women or whiskey. I loved them both in equal measure, and often at the same time, so that worked out famously for a while. Attending an all boys’ boarding school can make meeting girls something of a challenge, but we always seemed to manage. 

For all my shenanigans I still finished top of my class at Eton and went on to Oxford. That made Mum and Grams very happy, and since Grams was paying, it paid to make her happy. I was studying computer science and business with moderate results and females with great success, the former being a probable result of the latter. Still, girls back home were a lot more fun than most, so while I was at school, I spent more time with my mates and while I was home, I spent a lot more time chasing skirts. 

On holiday, my routine went something like this: Get off the train, walk home, change out of my dress blues, walk down to the pub and meet up with my mates, who were almost always there ahead of me. Whoever got in last had to buy a round immediately, so I always made sure I had plenty of money with me. 

Walking to the pub assured that I wouldn’t have to drive home, of course. Stumbling was the preferred method of transport for intoxicated persons and, as it turns out, is a lot less nauseating than being trapped in a moving vehicle. 

One particular break I actually made it first to the pub, so I sat down at our favorite spot at the bar and proceeded to revel in my success. I had just ordered a shot of Jameson’s with a pint of Guin- ness to chase it when the door opened, and in walked the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on. At eighteen I thought I’d seen it all. I thought I knew beauty, but this girl was nothin’ like I’d ever known. Blonde hair and gray-green eyes that could peel the paint off a fence. 

She sat down next to me, and I swear my stomach flipped over on itself. I offered to buy her a drink, but she refused. In fact, I tried every trick I knew, but she'd have none of it. Eventually she looked straight at me and smiled. 

“Do you find this amusing?” I asked, putting my elbows up on the bar. 

“Do I find what amusing?” She mirrored my actions.

“Are you going to let me buy you a drink or not?”

“Are you even old enough to drink, young Finn?” She winked at me as if she knew something that I didn’t, and yet I couldn’t place her. 

“Do I know you?” 

“Well, I don’t know ‘bout that but sure I know you Finn McCarthy. I used to watch you get your nappy changed.” 

My head rocked sideways. “Excuse me?”

She smiled again. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

“Believe me, if you were in a memory, I’d have it with me right here.” I patted my chest.

“Save it for a girl who’s actually going to shag you, will you?” She flagged down the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Tom winked at me. “All right, miss.”

She turned toward me and crossed her arms over her chest. “He doesn’t think I can do it does he?” She inclined her head toward Tom without taking her eyes off me. 

“Do what?” I matched her gesture in mock salute. 

She was neither impressed nor amused. “Resist your charms, of course.” 

“I have charms?” 

“Don’t you?” She smiled as she downed the whiskey, then nodded toward mine, which I hadn’t touched yet. 

I followed suit, banging it down on the bar to signal Tom for a refill. “That all depends.” I wiped my mouth. 

“On what?” 

“On who the hell you are and why you’ve seen my mickey, of course.” I smiled again and took a long sip of beer. 

“Well, don’t worry, I’m sure it’s grown since then.” She sipped her beer and looked straight ahead, leaving me to wonder just what kind of game we were playing. It’s not that I disliked this game, I just wasn’t sure what the rules were exactly. 

I studied her face, which was artfully proportioned. “Please tell me we’re not related.” 

“Would that be so awful?” 

“Only if I had my heart set on shagging you. Otherwise no.” I smirked. 

She laughed heartily. At least I could make her laugh. That had to be worth a couple of points. 

She let out a long sigh, smiling all the while. “My older sister Maggie used to watch over you and Eiran. I tagged along a few times. Perhaps you don’t remember.” 

I searched my memory banks and found nothing but a lanky, buck-toothed, flat-chested young sprite who couldn’t possibly be the girl sitting before me now. She had to have been a few years older than me, but still, this couldn’t be the same person. 

I just kept staring at her. “Well, braces for sure, but if you’re the person I’m thinking of, I’m not the only one whose parts grew in nicely.” 

She grinned intentionally, revealing straight, white teeth. “Regan?”
She nodded once with some satisfaction. “Nicely done. I see Eton taught you a bit of deductive reasoning.”

As if on cue, the bottle of Jameson’s showed up. “Ready for another?”

Tom poured us both a shot and walked away, shaking his head. She held hers up in salute. “To fully grown parts!”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Two shots of whiskey in as many minutes and I started to feel the burn, but she looked as if she could match me all night long. I noticed that a few of my mates had come in, but when they saw me with a beautiful girl they knew enough to leave me alone. They settled into a booth in the back to watch the show, and I was deter- mined not to disappoint. 

“So, how do you like Oxford?” She asked, still looking straight ahead. 

“Better question.” I leaned forward on the bar. “How is it you know so much about me?” 

She hesitated. “You caught me. I’ve been stalking you for years now. Got a thing for younger men, you see.” 

“Oh yea?” I raised one eyebrow. “And yet you refuse to shag me. How tragic. For you, I mean.” 

Her laugh relaxed into a huge grin. “Maggie saw your da last year at Michaelmas. He said you’d been top of your class at Eton and looking at Oxford.” 

“Well that does make more sense.”

“But besides that, I just saw you on campus the other day.” 

“What?”

“I’m home on holiday as well.”

“You’re at Oxford?” I hadn’t meant it to sound condescending, but I’m afraid it did. Either that or sexist.

“Is that so hard to believe? Did you think maybe you’re the only one with smarts in this town?”

“Well, no of course not I just–how old are you?”

“That’s hardly a proper question to ask a lady!” She pretended to look offended and got Tom’s attention by tapping her shot glass on the bar a couple of times. After he filled them, she looked at me and said, “Good thing I’m not a proper lady...” 

We held our glasses up and toasted before taking the shots in unison. 

She wiped her mouth in a decidedly unladylike fashion and continued, “I’m twenty-two, if you must know. I’ve just started my law courses. Undergraduate in History with a minor in Economics.” 

“You’re attending law school. At Oxford?” 

“What can I say? I liked the gowns.”

I shook my head, laughing. “So how is it?” “What’s that?” 

“Law school.”

“It’s all right. Why, what are you studying?”

I was tempted to say whiskey and women, but I was pretty sure she already knew that part. I looked her over again. She was unbelievably gorgeous. “Computer science and business.” 

She nodded. “And don’t be lookin’ at me like that. I think I’ve made it clear I don’t date underclassmen.” 

I leaned toward her then, bringing my face close to hers. “If you really knew as much about me as you think you do, you’d under

stand how much I hate being told no.” 

She wasn’t put off by the proximity of our noses in the slightest. “Perhaps if you heard the word more often, it would help you get used to the feelin’.” 

I smiled the way a man should smile at a woman–with genuine compliments and sincere admiration. “You are absolutely breathtaking.” 

This girl would have none of it. The only reaction that registered on her features was one of disgust bordering on pity. “Aye, but that’s just a word, isn’t it? And a feeling. And nothin’ much else between two strangers. It might get you through the evening, but you’ll be just as empty when the daylight hits. I’ve no desire to be your warm place for the night.” 

Ouch. “I do like a girl who can speak her mind.” 

“And I’d like to have some real fun.” Her head tipped toward the table where my mates were gathered. “So why don’t you introduce me to your friends back there, and we’ll have some drinks and play some darts, eh?” 

She started to get up, but I put my hand down on hers. I just couldn’t go down without a fight. “You really have no desire to sleep with me? Not even once? You know, I might surprise you.” 

She tipped her head and looked me up and down, then shook it decidedly. “No. Not even a little bit.” 

A burst of raucous laughter erupted from the table in the back and my face lit up crimson. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been turned down. Regan was already headed toward my friends and I’ll be damned if she wasn’t even better lookin’ from the back. I put some money on the bar for Tom, shrugged, and followed after her. 

By the time I got to the table they’d obviously introduced themselves to one another and there were congratulations all around, presumably for her supernatural ability to resist my advances. 

“Don’t worry love, he needs his pedestal to crash out from under him once in a while. Those Oxford boys can be quite taken with themselves.” Daniel assured her. 

“Don’t I know it.” She laughed. “But I’ve got to give him points for trying, so tell you what – the next round’s on me!” 

Cheers and glasses went up all around the table and an hour or so later the entire lot of us was inordinately pissed. The boys cleared out one by one, until Regan and I were left talking to Tom. I couldn’t for the life of me remember where her family lived, but if I’d known I would have offered to see her home. Truth be told, I was just hoping to have more time with her, whatever that might mean. We walked out of the pub into the cold wind, and she wrapped her jacket tighter. 

“Can I walk you home?” I put both hands up in self-defense. “I promise, no advances. Just a gentlemanly offer.” 

She hooked her arm through mine. “Sure.” 

I have no idea how long we walked but the conversation was somehow deep below the surface and the laughter came easily. I wanted to kiss her right there on the street, but I couldn’t figure out how to do any of it and still maintain her respect, which I felt strangely desperate for. We ended up on the other side of town before she pointed to a door in the middle of two shops. “This is me.” 

I looked up to see an apartment above one of the shops. “So you don’t live at home anymore?” 

“Too many brothers.” 

“Ah yes. Noise can be quite a factor when you’re trying to memorize historical data.” 

“And when you’ve a scholarship to keep up, that data becomes very important.” 

“Well” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “It was very nice... running into you again. After all these years.” 

“You too.” She grinned. “And it’s too bad I’m so drunk.”

“Why is that?”

“Because normally I’m marvelous at keeping secrets.” She giggled.

“Secrets? What am I missing?”

“I’ve made a bit of money tonight is all.” She pulled a small wad of bills out of her coat pocket along with her keys and unlocked the door, stepping into the small vestibule to get out of the wind, and motioning for me to do the same. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Your friends.” She shut the outer door behind us and started up the stairs. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve met them.” 

My mouth dropped open and I ran up the stairs after her. “No!” I spun her around. “They did not!” 

She doubled over, laughing heartily. “I must say, it was rather convenient that I happened to have a bit of history with you, not that you remembered of course.” 

Incredulous, I raked my hands through my hair. 

“I mean, I actually did used to help mind you and your sister.” She looked down at my pants, unashamed. “And I have, in fact, seen your mickey. Granted, it was a very long time ago, and it wasn’t very impressive back then.” She smirked mercilessly. “But they did pay me to say no to you.” 

I put my hand against the wall to steady myself. “No wonder no one was about when I got to the pub.” It all made so much sense. “There I was, congratulating myself for getting there first when all along they were waiting for the sheep to wander off alone so they could send in the big bad wolf!” 

“Aye.” She laughed. 

“So, wait a minute then” I said, putting my other hand up against the wall, effectively closing her in between my arms. “If that was all a game...” 

Her eyes looked up at me from under heavy lashes. “You’re still too young for me, Finn McCarthy.” 

“Says who?” I swept her up in my arms and kissed her solidly. Her words may have said too young, but for a moment there, her mouth said something altogether different. Still, she pushed my shoulders away in a physical reiteration of her earlier comment. 

“Hey now! I thought we were doing just fine.” I tried to lean back in, but she turned her head just in time. 

“I know part of it was a game, but I was serious too, Finn. It’s not about your age, not really. I’m just not interested in being someone’s just for tonight.” 

She waited to gauge my reaction. I just sat there blinking, so she kept talking. 

“Listen, you’re very attractive, a surprisingly good kisser, and have...quite obviously grown into your grown-up parts.” She pushed me a little farther away. “But I hope you can understand.” 

“What if I told you I wasn’t looking for a just for tonight?” 

“Then you’d be lying to the both of us. You’re eighteen Finn. You don’t know what you’re lookin’ for. I’m twenty-two and I’m barely gettin’ the hang of it. Can’t we just be mates?” 

I sighed. “I can’t say I’ve ever had a mate I wanted to shag as much as you, but uh–I suppose we could give it a go.” 

“Well, in that case, would you like to come in for a cup o’ tea?” 

“Let’s not push our luck, shall we?” I stepped back. “I’m very drunk, and I am only human, after all.” 

“Now that’s the spirit!” She handed me a slip of paper with her number on it. “Ring me up some time and we’ll tip a few more.” She slipped inside her apartment and began to shut the door before adding, “Mate!” 

I leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. This was going to be interesting.