‘Good,’ Danny said, fiddling now with the zipper of his football kitbag, on the seat beside him. Danny played the trumpet, and kept the instrument wrapped in a bit of newspaper in the bag. He played in the school band, played, albeit under some duress, at the parties his father was partial to throwing in the house, and he was good enough to pick and choose gigs with several local outfits. It mildly appalled Eileen that the boy carted this beautiful brass instrument around with his ­balled-­up socks and stinking boots, but she figured that was the point. The kitbag was a gesture of deliberate negligence on Danny’s part, a protest not against his ability but against his obligation to that ability.

‘Any gigs coming up?’ Eileen asked him.

‘Them lads in the funk band are after me to play out in Enniscrone next Thursday.’

‘School night.’

‘I know. It pays, though.’

‘They’re the ones. What are they called again, them lads?’

‘They go by White Chocolate.’ Danny smirked.

‘Say it to Mark.’

‘I didn’t say I was going. I said I was asked.’

‘Well, say it to Mark.’

‘And Da’s birthday’s in January. Reckon he’ll enlist me in some capacity.’

‘How old is Da now?’ Ashleigh asked.

‘How old do you think?’ Eileen said.

‘Em. Em. Seventy,’ Ashleigh said.

‘I’m going to tell him you said that,’ Eileen said. She looked down at the bowls in front of Danny. ‘Will you at least eat some of them?’

Danny frowned and placed a nut into his mouth. Eileen’s phone vibrated. It was a text from Murt.

sorry have headed off

Eileen looked at the phone, then at the boys. She went upstairs to the bathroom. The window was up off the sash, the cold coming in. She looked around the empty, small space, drew back the crackly sheath of the shower curtain even though she knew there was nothing behind it. She closed the window.

‘Murt,’ she whispered, like he was just out of sight. ‘Murt. Murt.’

She rang Murt and it went to voicemail. She texted.

did u just go out the window??

She went back downstairs, out into the drive. Her car was empty. There was no one out on the street. The phone beeped.

yeah

why ??

took a notion just had to go sorry hun

Eileen went back inside and rang Murt, but it went to voicemail again. After a few minutes, Murt sent a flurry of texts.

am grand laughing at this now

just wanted to see if i cld get down off shed roof into garden

& i did it was fun

jogging home feels good stitch in side tho

be sorry if i fell & done an angle

ankle! Good day had fun

Eileen did not reply straight away. She texted when she was on her way to Naughton’s.

hun id say your not right in the head but u know that!! into work now x