‘I miss the trips to the market. Do you remember the white silk dresses we had last year? And wasn’t that just the thing, because the girls could use them for Holy Communion after,’ she said aloud as she remembered she and Angela putting their best foot forward for a carnival without Kitty. ‘Oh, Conor must be on his way back. It would be the first time he had let everyone down, so we have to keep paying the rent until then because, as God is my judge, they will need it to hide Conor’s drink in the back and Kathleen will have to be the one to dish it out.’

Maura’s voice had dropped an octave, even though there was no one to hear her. Without a doubt, the carnival would never be a day of fun and memories without an understanding between Captain Conor and the dockers. Just like at Christmas, the carnival fun arrived via wins on the bingo, Green Shield stamps, the butcher’s and the biggest contribution of all, the goods that fell off the back of a ship. Maura had no chance to say any more because Angela appeared in the doorway.

‘Mammy, it’s Harry, he’s really sick.’

Maura put down her glass and jumped to her feet. ‘Is it his chest, queen? Is his breathing not right, is he wheezy?’

‘No Mammy, it’s his arm, it’s hot all the way up and he’s not making any sense.’

*

Maura fought to keep the panic from her voice as she laid Harry down on the settle, his body burning as his mind rambled.

‘Get them off, Mam!’ he cried, swatting at his arms as Maura removed his pyjamas.

‘Tommy,’ she said, ‘go on, run. Get the bike out and get to the Deanes’. Ask Liam to take us to the hospital. Tommy, where is the nearest hospital?’

Tommy shook his head, feeling helpless and trapped. In Liverpool, he would have had Harry over his shoulders in a flash and marched down to St Angelus within fifteen minutes. ‘I don’t know, queen, but I’ll go now.’ And with one quick kiss on his son’s head and the whispered words, ‘Daddy will sort this out now, Harry. It’s a doctor you need and we will have you better in no time,’ he was out of the door and pedalling for his life, back to the Deanes’ farm.

*

Maura had never seen one of her children look so ill and she had sat through many a long night and trips to St Angelus with asthma and bad chests, the curse of living so close to the river Mersey. Her heart raced fast as she filled up a bowl with tepid water and began to wash Harry’s body down to reduce his temperature. Angela padded over to her mother’s side.