Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

Zöe Beck “He always ordered a pint for Flann, whenever he was in the pub.” It sounded like an accusation. “Whisky for himself, beer for Flann,” Sandra added. “If I’d known he was going to die today and everyone was going to come over and drink at my place, I’d have gotten more beer and whisky,” I retorted, but the irony flew right over their heads. “Her son has the second sight,” the man remarked, pointing at Sandra. “That’s actually true, but I don’t believe in Púcas. Nobody does.” “Except the old man,” the man said, as he walked out. “The second sight?” I

asked. “There are no such things as Púcas,” Sandra insisted, before she left the kitchen as well. The last of them left around nine o’clock. I cleaned up the empty glasses, bottles and cans in the living room, and tried to picture what it must have been like to run around with an imaginary, invisible sprite for years and years. Sam called just then, and I told her about what I’d learned. “I’m sure there are some fabulous pills to help with that these days,” she said. “We keep discovering new things about the universe. We wouldn’t have missed the Púcas.” Sam taught astrophysics at the

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