Juliet laughed. ‘That’s what Ma used to say.’

‘Who loves you, Juliet?’ she said, and Juliet grinned.

‘Marjorie does,’ she said.

Davey hit the room like a tornado, swinging both bags high in the air. ‘I knew I’d be killed if I arrived without them.’

He knew her so well, despite all their years apart. He was here, they were a family and with the next violent contraction she faced her fears and let go.

Chapter Eighty-Eight: Jack

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Jack

THE CAR RAN OUT of petrol on the James Larkin Road. The petrol dial had been broken for a while; Jack kept telling himself he’d have it fixed, but then he’d forget until the next time he ran out of petrol. He usually kept a can in the boot but he’d used that the previous Friday, when he ran out on the way back from a game of bowls in Greystones and he’d forgotten to replace it.

‘I’ll kill you,’ Molly said.

‘Ah now, Molls, calm down, we’re grand.’

‘We’re in the middle of the bleedin’ road,’ she said, pointing out the obvious. He was busy opening the boot and pulling apart a cardboard box he kept an array of dry clothing in: woolly hats, gloves, extra-warm jumpers, a cardigan and some long johns. They all went flying, some landing on the ground. Molly picked up the long johns. ‘What are ya doing?’ she said.

‘Have you a pen?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said, following him round to the front passenger side of the car. She watched as he riffled through the glove box.

‘Lipstick?’ he said, coming up empty. She checked her handbag and pulled out a red lipstick.

‘That will do nicely,’ he said, and he placed the cardboard on the bonnet of the car and started writing in red lipstick.

So very sorry, the car ran out of petrol and we are having a baby. We are on the run. Please forgive us for any inconvenience.

Jack Hayes

He added his phone number and placed the sign in the windscreen. Molly looked at it and shook her head.

‘We’re having a baby?’

‘We are, Molls,’ he said, and he giggled to himself before launching himself onto the road and screaming ‘Taxi!’ at a man in a cab.

They were in the car when Davey rang Jack’s phone. He answered it with the words ‘Jack Hayes’, expecting a policeman or a clamper to be calling.

‘I know who you are, Da,’ Davey said, and Jack clicked his fingers at Molly. ‘It’s Davey. Hello, Davey, how goes it?’

‘She’s in bits, Da.’

‘Ah yeah, that’s the way of it, son, your mammy kicked me in the face when I delivered Rabbit.’

Davey had heard the story many times. ‘Vera refuses to get a taxi, she’s nervous on her own.’

‘No problem, son, we’ll swing by on our way.’