Right you are there, Des. I’m not entirely to blame. It’s Alison, she seems to have her finger on the pulse of misery and I don’t know, I soak it up, despite myself. That’s osmosis, right, Des? They’re laying her out in her Communion dress. She made her Communion back there in the summer, the weather was grand then. Do you remember?

Jesus Christ, Maurice.

I flinch and I think of Maeve. It doesn’t feel that long since she made her Communion. The big day out, the fuss, the bother, the money. I have an image of a beautiful angel masquerading as Maeve bouncing up in the air and then floating higher and higher until I can no longer make out her face. I look over to where Maeve is, leaning against the tall green fence, hunched over a book, her puffed jacket pulled up tight in against her neck. I think about her and the purple party dress hanging in her wardrobe at home. Jenny purchased it for her despite my concerns.

The referee arrives. I have a bit of banter with him and I thank him for making the effort to come out on such a manky morning. Mikey and Joey mention the possibility of getting a sausage roll at the end of the game and I nod with a certain ambiguity. I like to keep them wondering right up until the full-time whistle. It keeps them working at winning.