Daddy raises an eyebrow. The eyebrow said don’t push her, don’t start a row, don’t you think we’ve had enough of those over the years? I voted with my feet and said we needed to get going. Mammy – who in over two decades had hardly asked me if I was alright – started up in her best pretend-fret, would we be warm enough, would we be able to see our way, would we be able to cope down there all alone? She had the makings of a solution. As we all pushed to get past each other and out the back door, she showered us with Holy Water. We all stopped just long enough to realise that it wasn’t raining and then set off, covered in irritation.

Halfway down the hill, Eugene let rip an enormous fart to dispel the gloomy silence and, to be fair, he did make us all laugh.

–  There’s nothing like a bit of home-cooked stew to heat your gizzards! he says.

We set off early the next morning. Daddy was going to drop us into Carncloon as a way of making the journey seem shorter and we would pick up the Belfast bus in Omagh. Watch yourself, he says, and I nod that I will. I sit with Daniel beside me, Marius and Eugene behind and Shane behind them, all my little ducks lined up. I couldn’t get my mind to stretch as far as the Mater, trying to imagine what I would see, what I would hear, what I would feel.

The bus steamed up with the wealth of early-morning breath mixed in with cold rubber. From habit I cleared a little sweaty patch in the window with my hand. And there he was. Joe Loughrey – sorry, Doctor Joseph Loughrey – instantly recognisable and standing on the pavement opposite, looking straight past me.

Jeepers! Why didn’t Lizzie Magee mention that he was as bald as an egg? I was looking at a face that I used to know better than my own. It was altered by a sort of sneer, as if he was a doctor who had had to deal with too much toe fungus or one haemorrhoid too far in his career. Mind, the face also used to have a fringe. The years in between melted like butter in a pan. I was sixteen again and listening to our friends slagging us as we went off for a snog in the bombed-out Long Lounge. I’d pinned so many hopes and dreams on him, thinking that we would make it out of Carncloon together, thinking that he would be the answer. Joe Loughrey, my magic-carpet ride that never got off the ground.

–  Ma! Ma!

–  What?

–  You were off in your own little world again!

–  Sorry, Daniel! I’m all at sixes and sevens!

–  We’ll be in Belfast soon, you’ll feel better when you’ve seen Da for yourself?