Little Paddy didn’t believe her and she could see it in his eyes. She didn’t believe herself, but this was the only thing she could do and say right now. All that was left to her was this, or to sit on the chair and wait for the bailiffs to arrive.

A string bag, suspended from the handle of the pram, banged against her thigh as she walked along the road. In it was the only cutlery they had in the house and in her hand another knitted string bag contained her mother’s clock, wrapped up in an old copy of the Echo. She had picked the statue of the Virgin Mary up off the mantelpiece, intending to take it too and then put it back down again. The Holy Mother had looked Peggy straight in the eye and when Peggy thought she saw her frown, the guilt that shot through her sent her mind into a frenzy; her breathing had become rapid and her face hot as she blessed herself.

‘What in the name of God has become of us?’ she had whispered. She put it back and, delving into her apron pocket, clasped the comforting rosary beads as they clicked through her fingers.

*

The children had been sitting on the stairs when she’d opened the kitchen door to leave and she had avoided their desperate expressions, but she could not unhear their miserable sobs. Still, Peggy wouldn’t allow them to play out, barefoot. Never in a million years would her children be the only barefooted children out on the street.

‘I’ll get you some plastic sandals as soon as I can, I promise now,’ she’d said. ‘It’s nearly summer and with some of the money I get for this lot, I’ll buy you chips. So come on, cheer up.’ She was attempting to cheer herself up as much as the children.

Paddy had held her gaze, his face full of concern. ‘Ma, can I do something? Do you need help? Can I help, Ma?’

‘Paddy, you can help me with the chips when I get back and I’ll make sure I get enough for everyone to have a saveloy each too.’