‘Yeah. I shattered me knee on the track two years ago, it’s still mangled. This is nothing and me bike’s fine, so that’s all that matters.’

She nodded. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Me too.’ His face blushed a little. ‘About Rabbit, it’s really sad.’ Tears built in his eyes. ‘I’ve never known anyone who . . .’ he trailed off. His nose ran a little. He rubbed it with his sleeve. Grace grabbed a tissue out of her handbag and shoved it out the window and towards the bleeding boy. ‘Here, Silversleeve, use a tissue.’ Kids wiping snot on sleeves was a real bugbear of Grace’s, and with four boys at home, crusty clothing had been a feature of her life for too many years.

‘Sorry,’ Kyle said. Grace fished a small bar of chocolate out of her handbag and handed it to him. ‘Here, have that.’

He took it. ‘Thanks.’

‘And we’re sorry again,’ Grace said.

‘No big deal,’ he said. ‘Sorry again too.’

Molly rolled up the window and continued reversing, slowly and steadily, until she was in a position to move off. As she did so, he shouted: ‘She was lovely, Rabbit was . . . She was . . .’

Molly turned on the radio, drowning Kyle out. She couldn’t bear to hear anyone say anything nice about Rabbit. It was just too painful and so desperately unfair. Some government lackey was on the airwaves promoting charging people for their water. ‘Over my dead body,’ Molly mumbled.

‘Ma.’

‘What?’

‘Over my dead body, really?’

‘Sorry, love,’ Molly said.

The rest of the journey was completed in silence.

Chapter Eight: Davey

Chapter Eight

Davey

DAVEY ARRIVED AT HIS mother’s house with Juliet in tow just after 10 a.m. His nephews Bernard and Ryan were already there. Ryan nodded to Davey, who nodded back. Bernard gave Davey an unexpected bear hug. ‘Love ya, Uncle Davey.’

‘Love you too, Bernard,’ Davey said awkwardly. He often wondered if the child was a little soft in the head.

Ryan raised his eyes and mouthed the word ‘thick’. Davey hid his smile.

Davey was worried; as the morning passed Juliet’s sadness seemed to increase with every passing second. ‘Do you think she’s sick?’ he asked Molly. ‘She looks sick.’

Molly examined her granddaughter. She was cool and clammy, her face pale and her pupils the size of saucers.

‘Shock,’ Molly said.

The child was in such a state of shock that Molly insisted on giving her a Valium, two milligrams, the lowest dose that Molly had left over from a knee injury a year beforehand.

‘I don’t know, Ma,’ Davey said. He wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of drugging the child.

Molly was adamant. ‘I do know. The child needs a little something to calm her nerves.’