He handed Maura her glass, half-filled with a generous helping of the warm amber liquid, to soften the sharp edge of his words. Maura took a sip and, placing Sister Evangelista’s letter to the side with a heavy heart, picked up the next one. She would savour each letter as she went.

‘This one is from Malcolm from the Seaman’s Stop. God love him, he says that the streets aren’t the same without us and he would throw a party if we would return home for the carnival.’ Maura sat back and placed the letter on the table. ‘Well, would you fancy that? Malcolm doesn’t even go to the pub! He drives Biddy to distraction, for she loves a Guinness. She’s been like a mammy to him since his own mammy died and poor Ena has ended up in his doorway more times than enough, three sheets to the wind. You’d think he would want to go and join them, wouldn’t you.’

Tommy and Maura both blessed themselves with the sign of the cross and Tommy’s eyebrows rose as his glass reached his lips. ‘What else does he say? Does he write what kind of party would he throw, would the drink be free?’

‘He says the work on the docks is drying up, that only half a pen is being taken on each day, there aren’t as many sailors staying as there were.’ Maura tutted as one hand flew to the crucifix around her neck. ‘Tommy, it sounds bad, doesn’t it?’

Tommy shook his head. ‘It must be bad if Malcolm has written to you. He was always a quiet one and keeps himself to himself. His da worked for the dock board. That’s how they got that big house over the road from the pub. Good money he earned. What does Kathleen say? Go on, read that one next; she might give us more of a clue what’s going on. Is there news of Jerry? Any wins on the gee-gees? Has he been to the footie? Who’s taken my place in the darts team? Does Jer still think Bill Shankly is the second coming?’

Jerry had been Tommy’s closest friend, a friendship bound closer than brothers by the joint knowledge of a deadly deed. Neither man had ever spoken of the night the priest had been murdered and both were present, but it hadn’t saved poor Kitty – and that was a sin they had to carry, the murderous end of the guilty priest.

Maura sliced open Kathleen’s letter. As usual, she scanned the pages and read it herself before she began to read it out loud. This annoyed Tommy intensely.

‘Go on, read it out, stop reading it to yourself,’ he said.