I wanted to smack myself across the back of the head for asking, but it came out anyway. “Tell me something, while we’re on the subject. Am I going to be hearing from you again, too? Or is it just Holly?”

The pause only lasted a fraction of a second, but that was long enough. I said, “If that’s not on the cards, babe, I’m OK with it. I can see where you’d be having trouble here. I just like knowing what the story is; I find it saves time and hassle all round. Does that not sound fair enough?”

“Yeah. It does. Ah, God, Francis . . .” A quick catch of breath, almost a spasm, like she’d been gut-punched. “Course I’ll be back in touch. Course I will. Just . . . I might need a little while. A few weeks, maybe, or . . . I’m not going to lie to you: my head’s melted. I don’t know what to do with myself. It could be a while before . . .”

“Makes sense,” I said. “Believe me, I know the feeling.”

“I’m sorry, Francis. I’m really, really sorry.”

Her voice sounded thin and desperate, frayed to the last thread. It would have taken an even bigger sonofabitch than me to make her feel worse. I said, “Shit happens, kid. This wasn’t your fault, any more than it was Holly’s.”

“It was, but. If I hadn’t brought her over to Mammy’s to begin with . . .”

“Or if I hadn’t brought her that specific day. Or, better yet, if Shay hadn’t . . . Well, there we go.” The rest of the sentence unraveled into the empty air between us. “You did your best; that’s all anyone can do. You go unmelt your head, babe. Take your time. Call me when you’re done.”

“I will. Honest to God, I will. And, Francis . . . you look after yourself, meanwhile. Seriously, now.”

“Will do. You too, honeybunch. See you out there.”

Just before Jackie hung up, I heard that fast, painful catch of breath again. I hoped she would go in to Gavin and let him hug her, instead of standing outside in the darkness, crying.

A few days later I went to the Jervis Centre and bought the kind of King Kong telly that you buy if the possibility of saving up for anything more substantial has never entered your universe. I felt it would take more than electronics, no matter how impressive, to stop Imelda from kicking me in the goolies, so I parked my car at the top of Hallows Lane and waited for Isabelle to get home from wherever she went all day.

It was a cold gray day, sky heavy with sleet or snow waiting to fall, thin skins of ice on the potholes. Isabelle came down Smith’s Road walking fast, with her head down and her thin fake-designer coat pulled tight against the slicing wind. She didn’t see me till I got out of the car and stepped in front of her.