–  How? How EXACTLY would I do that, Father? How do I get over the fact that I’ve reared another Rattigan T.R.A.M.P. when I did everything in my power to keep her from harm? This would NOT have happened if she hadn’t been sent home with a begging letter from that do-gooder Pious!

–  Sadie, there is no evidence at all that this … this incident happened at Gortnahook, no evidence at all!

–  There’ll be plenty of evidence in a few months’ time! PLENTY!

It was to be a day of traumatic events. When she had cleared away Father O’Brien and his tea tray and custard creams, my father came crashing into the kitchen covered in blood. He had sliced through his hand with a scythe he had been sharpening and needed taking to the town or a doctor fetching. He stood with his arm in the air while Mammy tried to find tea towels she could bear to part with to stop him from ruining her clean lino.

I would have to run to Johns Farm and see if John Johns was there. And I did run, I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, taking no care, jumping and leaping over puddles and muck. Bridie was on the stoop with a cup of tea and she called out for John Johns to come quick. He dropped everything and came at once. I rode with him in the cab of the tractor and I kept slipping and sliding as we joggled up the long, bumpy lane. I had to touch his shoulder to steady myself; he was wearing a thin shirt and I could feel the heat of his skin through it and I pulled my hand back as if I’d been burned. He never opened his mouth and neither did I.

I was knocked up, alone, in the doghouse with both parents, and I was hard-pushed not to look at John Johns’s red lips and the ridges of muscle running from the back of his neck to his shoulders. When we got back to the street, John revved up the Austin Maxi and got Daddy in and settled while Mammy roared at them to watch the good upholstery.

With the men away to the town there was no escaping Mammy who had recovered from the sight of Daddy’s poorly hand as if it had never happened.

–  What did you tell Father O’Brien? Hmmm? What? He showed up here today in a very different frame of mind. Did you spin him some sort of a sob story when you saw your chance?

–  I told him nothing. There’s nothing to tell.