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Jared nodded. “What about you?”

“I spent some time in France, came back to go to university, graduated and have been in the City ever since. Never went back to the house either,” I said and felt that it was a bit too much. The beer wasn’t working in my favor.

Jared pondered his next thought. “He was running towards the main gates, and he was wearing a white shirt?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You know, you might have seen me, not Charlie.”

“What?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about today. I think we’ll need something stronger than beer, though.”

When our “stronger” single malt drink arrived, Jared took his phone and speed dialed a number.

“Freddy, bring it in,” he said and put the phone down. He took his glass, lifted it up and looked through it as if admiring the rich, medium dark shade of orange color of the drink. He gave it a sniff. “Ah, this stuff is the best.”

A tall man with wide shoulders and a square jaw dressed in a black suit walked in the bar with a white paper shopping bag. He approached the table, placed the bag on it and looked at Jared.

“That’ll be all, Freddy. Thanks.” Jared said.

Freddy nodded and left without saying a word.

I wasn’t going to reveal my anxiety by asking questions about the stupid bag, so I took my whiskey and emptied it with one gulp. It was nice and smooth. The Irish knew how to make the good stuff.

“Well,” Jared finally broke the silence, “there’s something I want to give you back.”

“Give me back? I can’t remember giving you anything, to be honest.”

Jared pushed the bag closer to me.

“Open it. It belongs to your family.”

I slowly took the bag and looked inside. There was a little size white shirt, neatly folded and wrapped with a long blue string inside. I looked at Jared.

“Take it out,” he said.

So I did. Before seeing it, somehow, I already knew what I was going to see on that shirt. Slowly, I untied the string and revealed the embroidered anagram CJM on it.

“Charles John Montague,” Jared said. “I noticed you have a similar one on your cuff. You still customize all your shirts, don’t you?”