She pats him on the arm to show sympathy but he slaps her hand. Get off with you woman he says. Can’t you see I’m sore. The bad mood has been brewing even as he slept and it refuses to go away. Instead it grows worse. And mother stands there with a daft smile on her face and tries to make him feel better even though likely as not the last thing he did the night before was beat her up. He hit her and maybe had his rights with her as he would put it. But he can’t remember that bit very well. 155

He stands outside on the veranda and farts. Holds on to the railing as he steps into his black rubberboots and walks unsteadily towards the byre where the cows are mooing for feed and milking. It is a sunny morning but he doesn’t notice. His body is still sweating alcohol. He longs for a hair of the dog. After the milking he’ll have a stiff one as a reward.

At ten to six he starts glancing at his watch. The bairns are bleedin late. A pig gets in his way. He kicks it. He manages to hold back from kicking again. And again.

After another five minutes we drag ourselves along and into the byre. He pretends not to see us. The boy is small and poorly built but tough as a wolverine. The girl is the same. Still they get on with the work and that’s a fact. His eyes follow the girl when she joins the first cow up to the milking machine. She has grown this year. About to be a bonnie lass.

So bonnie he tells bror. Your sister now he says. Soon I’ll have to stand guard with a gun.

You couldn’t even guard a sheep bror says. It’s the first time ever that he answers back.

But that’s all it takes. Father slaps his face. The slap makes bror even more rebellious. He hits father on the belly. Roughly aiming for the shitbag.

They fight in an empty calf stall. Bror hasn’t a hope but keeps hitting out at what he can reach.

In the end father gets a grip on bror’s clothes. Lifts him and carries him to the familygrave. The dungheap. And lets go.

He wants to show that it’s he who makes the decisions and that’s how it will always be.

It was all my fault I said. Because if I hadn’t run he wouldn’t have run after me. In his big black boots. But he sees me trip over 156the hayfork. The goddamn hayfork that comes back to get me so I’ve only got myself to blame.