Maybe she was right, except that two milligrams turned out to be ten, because the old woman wasn’t wearing her reading glasses at the time she dispensed the medication. ‘It will relax you, love,’ she’d promised the traumatised child.

‘I’m all right, Gran,’ Juliet lied.

‘No, Bunny, you’re not. None of us are.’

‘Don’t call me Bunny.’

‘I’ll try but I can’t guarantee it,’ she said, before leaving Juliet to stare into the middle distance, under the care of her cousins, who were busy wrestling for the remote control in the sitting room.

Molly asked Davey to bring a cup of tea to his da in the attic.

‘Gone to lunch?’ he said, and she nodded.

‘Do you even know what he’s doing up there?’

‘Don’t care, love, I have too much going on down here.’

Davey climbed into the attic to spend a little time with his father. Jack was in the corner, under a hanging light bulb and sitting on an old beanbag, surrounded by boxes. He was reading from an old notebook.

‘What are ya up to, Da?’ Davey asked.

‘Ah, you know yourself, son.’ Jack took the cup of tea from him.

Davey didn’t know but he didn’t push it.

‘Did Mammy get something nice for Rabbit to wear?’

‘Don’t mention the war,’ Davey said.

‘Right.’

‘How are you, Davey?’ Jack asked.

‘Scared,’ Davey admitted.

‘You’d be a fool not to be,’ Jack said, then he returned to reading. Their conversation was done.

When he returned downstairs Ryan was waiting for him.

‘I think Gran’s broken Juliet,’ Ryan said. ‘She didn’t even move when the remote control whizzed past her ear.’

Davey went into the sitting room to take stock of a silent, wide-eyed and very still Juliet.

‘She’s stoned off her face,’ Davey grumbled, clicking his fingers in front of Juliet’s face.

He walked into the kitchen to where his mother and Grace were buttering bread.

‘Don’t give her another one of those pills,’ he said, and Molly turned to face him.

‘I’ll do as I see fit, Davey,’ Molly said. ‘She’s my grandchild.’

‘And I’m her guardian, Ma.’

‘Rabbit wasn’t in her right mind when she asked you to care for that child.’

‘Ma . . .’ Grace began in a warning tone.

‘We all know it’s madness, Grace. Davey’s going to take Juliet to America with him? Really? He’s going to care for her? He can’t even take care of himself. Look at him.’ She walked into the kitchen with Davey following and turned to point at his lower half. ‘A man in his forties walking around in ripped jeans. It’s a bleedin’ disgrace.’

Davey had had enough of his mother’s abuse. ‘She picked me, Ma. Not you. Live with it.’

‘She was ill. Too ill.’