‘Ah, but it’s a Sunday,’ he muttered a few times, noting her discomfort.

Hegs had his share of soldiering Christian paraphernalia, scalpers, rosary beads, a bottle of Knock-Holy-Water, a photo of Padre Pio’s mitten, and hanging over his head were a plethora of mass cards – A Mass for the Sick from Knock, A Trio of Masses, A Mass from Croagh Patrick and, pride of place, A Mass from Lourdes with a saying from the Romans. But Righteous One – By Means of Faith He Will Live. Mass cards should be signed directly by a priest who adds the names of the sick to their mass intentions, but now they were often purchased in a local shop, stamped by the box-load by a savvy priest as he ate jelly beans in bed while watching Sex and the City repeats.

The gathering of religious icons made me a little envious.

‘Did you get iny sleep, Mr Hegarty?’ Molly said.

‘Well, indeed now, Miss Molly, I most certainly did get myself a little sleep, not much indeed though,’ said Hegs. ‘Shir indeed and didn’t I wake ever’hour, on the hour, but I declare to God, didn’t I manage to settle meself again?’ as he enthusiastically applauded his ability to rock himself back to sleep.

‘Good. Happy ta hear that, hun.’

‘I was, of course,’ he added rather cautiously, ‘… often tempted to ring the belleen, but shir …’ he said, ‘I couldn’t place my hand on it … and I hate to be a bother to ye. Is it here on my pyjamas, or where in the cursed Christ was it?’ Molly found the bell, and attached it back onto his pyjamas with a large steel safety pin, like a medal of honour, all the while patting him.

All night through he had called out Mammmmmmmmy.

‘Daddy,’ said Claire, ‘you had a draught on you again last night.’

‘I’m fine, please stop your fussing …’ Hegs said.

‘Well, I will most certainly fuss. Wouldn’t it be worse if no one were fussing? I told that young Molly girl that window was not to be left ajar,’ she continued, nodding at Molly Zane. ‘You know something, Daddy, you can’t beat the Irish nurses. And I do not like them opening and shutting that window all the time, it’s a death-trap, the putty is all disintegrated, if there was any putty to begin with. Disgusting, the whole place would need to be levelled and, well, to be quite frank, nothing for it but to be rebuilt.’

Molly turned and left.

‘Ah now, you see, you should quieten down, in fact, it would be better if you shut up,’ Jane said as she applied Margaret Rose’s blue mascara to her lower lashes with a large hairbrush in one hand and a tiny wand in the other.

Claire roused herself and lifted up to tackle Jane, but Hegs thrust his hands out to grab and coax his daughter back downwards into her chair. He managed to grab a small crease of material on the back of her dress and pulled hard. ‘She’s gone astray, Claire, please … leave her be,’ he whispered, pulling at her again. ‘Besides she’s so very … well, look, really we don’t need to rattle her, please leave it.’ He stopped abruptly. Claire sat back down, rubbing her back, and continued on about her father’s care, or lack thereof.