I’m aware of the rain and the wind, and Niall shouting, and his father not even speaking. He’s pushing my head back, turning me so he can bury my face in the mud, the leaves and the dirt; and the wind is still howling, the banshee is still calling and I can’t breathe.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Declan

Declan can’t just wait in the house for Niall to come back. He can’t just assume everything will be okay, because he knows full well what his brother is capable of now, and he knows that his da isn’t much better. Is it any wonder he’s a mess himself? Yet, they’re the ones who swan about as if they don’t have a care in the world.

His ma is still crying and he feels awful for leaving her, but he knows that – while his da is out, at least – she is safe. She will be fine.

He pulls on his coat and hat and heads for the door.

‘I’ll be back in a bit, Ma. Lock the door and put the chain on. Don’t let anyone in. Not even Da,’ he calls without looking back and walks towards the country park before breaking into a run.

He feels it in his bones that something is very wrong. Just as he did that night.

From the moment he and Niall had got home that night, everything had felt off. There was tension in the air, along with the smell of beer and cigarettes and the sound of big men mouthing off and acting like they ruled the world.

He’d known better than to become involved in any of it and had gone straight to his room, where he’d sat on the floor dividing his spoils into neat piles of nuts and apples and withered grapes – deflated after being torn from their stalks.

He’d heard the argument start between his da and Niall earlier. He’d pulled his knees to his chest and wished that just once, his da didn’t have to ruin everything, or that just for once, Niall would learn to keep his mouth shut and not rattle his da’s cage.

The slam of the door had followed. Declan had looked out of the window and willed Niall to run faster, because he could hear his father roaring at his ma, saying he was going out to find ‘that wee bastard’ and ‘teach him a lesson’. Declan could hear the loud voices of his da’s friends – angry men with sour faces – jumping to the beat of his da’s drum. All these big men who had nothing better to be doing with their time than chase a wee boy. He willed his brother to run away and never look back.