They crossed the street and walked up the steps of the church. It was locked, so they just sat on the steps looking down on the gardens, which led to the railings, the footpath and passing traffic.

‘So why’d she go and see Mother Teresa if she didn’t believe in God?’

‘Because Johnny did.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘The love of me ma’s life.’

‘Not your da?’

‘No way, she didn’t know him from a bar of soap.’

‘Oh.’

‘Johnny thought Mother Teresa could fix his legs.’

‘What was wrong with them?’

‘He had a disease called MS. He couldn’t walk.’

‘That’s hard.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did she fix him?’

‘No.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Ma called her a talking walnut with a tea towel on her head, so they had a big fight.’

Kyle chuckled a little. ‘Your ma was funny.’

‘Thanks.’

‘My ma has a blessed scapular,’ he said.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a brown felt yoke on a string, you put it around your neck.’

‘What does it do?’

‘Saves you from hell.’

‘Does she wear it?’

‘No, it looks like shite so she keeps it in a drawer. I don’t think she believes in hell. She likes signs though.’

‘What signs?’

‘Like if she sees a feather she thinks it belongs to her dead da.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s supposed to be a thing – dead people leaving feathers.’

‘Why?’

‘Dunno, I never asked.’

‘Oh.’

‘Did you ever see any feathers?’

‘No.’

‘Or did a dove ever land on your windowsill? Ma says they’re sent by dead people too.’

‘That must be where the feathers come from.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘I thought I saw a dove landing on me windowsill once – turned out to be a tufted titmouse.’

‘A tufted titmouse?’ he repeated, smiling.

‘Yeah, it has a white belly and a grey Mohawk.’

‘A tufted titmouse,’ he repeated. ‘Well, maybe there were no doves available so your ma sent a tufted titmouse with a grey Mohawk – that sounds more like her.’

Juliet laughed. ‘Yeah, it does.’

They walked to the shops and Kyle insisted on stopping in a coffee shop and buying Juliet a hot chocolate. They sat down in the window, people-watching and sipping their drinks.

‘I missed you,’ he said.

‘We speak all the time.’

‘It’s not the same.’

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘Do you like it there, Juliet?’ he asked, and she didn’t know how to answer.

‘It’s fine,’ she said.

‘Life should be better than fine.’

‘Can’t be, Kyle, me ma is dead.’

They drank their hot chocolates; Juliet stabbed at her marshmallows on the plate, Kyle dunked his in the chocolate liquid.

‘I think whatever you believe happens when you die, happens,’ he said.

Juliet frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’