Tommy was the close friend of Captain Conor who sailed the tramp ship Morry to the four corners of the world, and if it hadn’t been for his meeting Maura on the day he arrived in Liverpool, Tommy might have been a merchant sailor himself. It was Tommy who studied the form of the horses and had the best tips in Liverpool, making him the man amongst men. Tommy, who lived with the darkest secret, shared with his best friend Jerry Deane. And if the residents of the four streets had an inkling what it was that Tommy had done, they would have chased him all the way to the gates of hell.

But Tommy was no longer in the four streets, this was a new world. He was out of his depth, in total despair and confusion, as he turned to face his family and replied, ‘I don’t know what I’ve done, Maura; all I know is, if we don’t make a go of this, we’ve lost the bleeding lot.’

Maura remained as appalled today as she had been on that fateful morning and nothing and no one had managed to convince her that there were any more benefits for her children to living in a public house which faced out across the Atlantic, than there were perched in an equally damp two-up, two-down facing down across the Mersey in Liverpool.

‘How are ye, Maura?’ called the man who had soaked her floors, banging both of his palms flat on the bar. Maura’s eyes fixed on the water that ran from the oilskin coat onto her tapestry cushion. If one of the twins had done that, she would have flicked them around the back of the legs with the tea towel that hung from her waistband. She glared at her customer but he was impervious. His face broke into a grin and he removed his cap and shook it, sending water flying across the polished countertop and flopped it back on his head. Ignoring her lack of greeting, he continued unperturbed.

‘God in heaven, it’s mighty fierce out there,’ he said as a chill damp breeze whistled through the bar when the door he had failed to close properly behind him blew open and banged against the wall. Maura flicked the brass tap on the barrel of Guinness and the black velvet liquid began to flow into his favourite pot. ‘Where would Tommy be?’ he asked. ‘Don’t be giving me half measures there now, will ye?’