I said, “People accused me of that, to your face, and you let them into this house?”

“Don’t be thicker than you can help,” Jackie snapped. “Nobody’s said a word to me, d’you think they’d have the nerve? I’d bleeding splatter them. It’s hints, only. Mrs. Nolan said to Carmel that you’re always around for the action, Sallie Hearne said to Ma that you always had a temper on you and did she remember that time you punched Zippy’s nose in—”

“Because he was hassling Kevin. That’s why I punched Zippy, for fuck’s sake. When we were about ten.”

“I know that. Ignore them, Francis. Don’t give them the satisfaction. They’re only eejits. You’d think they’d have enough drama on their plates as it is, but that lot always have room for a bit more. The Place, sure.”

“Yeah,” I said. “The Place.” Outside the singing was rising, getting stronger as more people joined in and someone threw in a harmony: “Ringa-ring-a-rosy as the light declines, I remember Dublin city in the rare oul’ times . . .”

I leaned back against the wall and ran my hands over my face. Jackie watched me sideways and drank my Guinness. Eventually she asked, tentatively, “Will we go back out, will we?”

I said, “Did you ever ask Kevin what he wanted to talk to me about?”

Her face fell. “Ah, Francis, I’m sorry—I would’ve, only you said . . .”

“I know what I said.”

“Did he not get a hold of you, in the end?”

“No,” I said. “He didn’t.”

Another small silence. Jackie said, again, “I’m so sorry, Francis.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“People’ll be looking for us.”

“I know. Give me one more minute and we’ll go back out.”

Jackie held out the can. I said, “Fuck that. I need something serious.” Under the windowsill was a loose floorboard where Shay and I used to hide our smokes from Kevin, and sure enough, Da had found it too. I flipped out a half-full naggin of vodka, took a swig and offered it to Jackie.

“Jaysus,” she said. She actually looked startled. “Why not, I suppose.” She took the bottle off me, had a ladylike sip and dabbed at her lipstick.

“Right,” I said. I took another good mouthful and stuck the bottle back in its little hidey-hole. “Now let’s go face the lynch mob.”

That was when the sounds from outside changed. The singing trailed off, fast; a second later the buzz of conversation died. A man snapped something low and angry, a chair clattered against a wall, and then Ma went off like something between a banshee and a car alarm.