Chad’s like, ‘It’s a small thank you gift.’ I’m there, ‘You didn’t need to get me a gift.’ I immediately hope it’s a speed boat
The old man offers me a brandy. I tell him no thanks, on account of it being three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. I’ll stick with the beer, if it’s all the same to you. He pours himself one.
I’m there, “Is there a reason you asked me here?”
He looks out the window of his study, onto Ailesbury Road. He goes, “Have you any idea how Denis O’Brien manages to keep his hair in the condition it’s in? So lustrous? So buoyant?”
I’m genuinely like, “What?” because he said it was, like, urgent?
“Of course you don’t. Because the chap’s only told four people. Dermot’s known for years. So has Magnier. And obviously JP. The Musketeers, as I call them! And then there’s me. Oh, it’s a weight, Ross, I’m not going to deny it.”
I’m there, “Are you telling me you dragged me out of bed on a Saturday afternoon to listen to this? How much have you had to drink?”
“I’ve written it down,” he goes. “The secret. I promised that I wouldn’t, but there you have it. It’s simple really once you know it. Only Denis could have come up with it. I’ve put it in the safe. In case anything ever happens to me.”
“Something is about to happen to you. I’m about to beat you to death with this Heineken can.”
A cor pulls up outside. Two doors slam and the old man suddenly comes alive. “It’s them,” he goes, taking another look out the window, and I suddenly realise that he’s been stalling me.
I’m like, “Who? Who are we waiting for?”
I hear the front door open, then close. Then the door of the study opens and in walks Hennessy, followed by a much younger man who I straight away recognise, despite the dyed black hair, despite the goatee, despite the sunnies.
I’m like, “The Chad!” and I say it like that as well – like this is an actual movie we’re in?
Hennessy goes, “Five minutes is all you got,” then he and the old man leave us alone.
“Where have you been?” is the only thing I can think to say.
He’s like, “I can’t tell you that.”
I’m there, “Where are you going?”
He goes, “I can’t tell you that either. Hennessy arranged it. A new safehouse. A new name.”
I’m there, “Even if you told me your new name, I’d refuse to recognise it,” and I hear my voice break. “I’d still go on calling you The Chad.”
There’s no doubt it’s a moment.
“Look,” he goes, “I couldn’t have left without saying goodbye. Without saying goodbye and thank you. You and Sorcha, you were incredible to me. Your hospitality. Your kindness. You’re a pretty amazing couple, you know that?”
I’m there, “Dude, I’m sorry about the Gords. I’d no idea they were going to suddenly burst in the door like that.”