She offered me one but I declined.“The story’s all there in the file but I’ll tell you the gist if you want.”“Please do.”“My husband used to run a wee bar in Ballykeel. Just on the edge of the village there. The Henry Joy McCracken.”“Named after the rebel?”“Exactly. We still have it but Jim will never open it now. Not since what happened to Lizzie.”She took a sip of her tea and lit her cigarette. “Lizzie and all the girls used to serve there now and again to earn some pocket money. And then Lizzie went away to England to study law. She wanted to be a lawyer like she’d seen on TV. Defending the weak, all that, you know?”“Yes.”“She was at the University of Warwick. Doing very well for herself. She’d come home in the holidays and sometimes work in the bar, but she was also interning at a solicitor’s office in Antrim: Mulvenna and Wright, a top-notch firm, so we didn’t see her much when she was back. Anyway, she was home at Christmas in 1980 and she wasn’t supposed to be working in the pub at all .
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