‘She had the silver earrings. And the horseshoe rings on her fingers that her father made out of sixpenny pieces. Chrome buckets and basins. Silver spoons. Gold bracelets. Brass and copper. Wellingtons and shawls.

‘But of course she was never good enough for respectable people, was she? No. Far from it.

‘The guards in a squad car at the door of the trailer one day, wanting to know did they have a licence for the television and did anyone have a tax for the van, and did anyone have a licence for the five dogs that were barking at their heels. And the lad says to the guards, “Here,” he says, “I suppose we need a fucken licence for riding in the wagon as well.” It was a joke. But, says the guard, “Don’t you get smart with me, ye boy ye! Don’t ever wan of yous get smart alecky with me.”

‘Well of course the lad in the caravan wanted to say, hold on a minute, guard, what do you mean, one of “yous”? Sure I’m not a tinker.’ But then he thought of her behind him, hiding under the bed in her tinker’s knickers, so he kept his gob shut.

‘You lie down with a tinker, you pays the price. Am I right? Oh I’m fucken right alright! Anyway. It didn’t end so good. ’Cos there was this night came, when they’d been drinking a fair bit, and he was out at the fire on the ditch with her father. They were just standing there, staring into the glowing embers, when there was this brightness in the sky behind them. Not a flash. Just a rich light behind their heads. And it seemed lovely for a moment. The warmth of the fire spreading into the darkness.

‘And then they turned. And there was flames all over the caravan. Flames dripping down the walls like honey. Slowly dripping from the roof to the floor. Slow flames. Like blobs of honey. They couldn’t see the trailer any more. There was just this big square of flame. Like a giant firelighter. And then he seen the girl. And she was coming out of the fire. And running towards him. And she was on fire. She was the fire. Running towards him, and then falling over and tumbling into the ditch where he had been soaking wattles the previous night. The wee ditch he had been soaking the wattles in. There was a drain of water there. And she was running to it. For to squelch the fire. And you could hear the water putting it out. Putting the girl out. Putting the love of his life out. Quenching her. Can you imagine the silence after that, eh?

‘There’d be no cure for that now, Birdie, would there? No. All the music in China wouldn’t cure that silence.’

GUSSIE

1

WHERE ELSE WOULD Gussie go? He had the loan of a car. And there he was just released from the hospital. And he didn’t want to come home to Birdie. And he certainly wasn’t going back to Cornagore. And he couldn’t go back to Mullingar. So where else would the poor creature go, only to Hughie?