It is lunchtime at Catriona’s farmhouse, but Niall still has to get rid of some built-in cupboards from the living room. His stomach is cramping with hunger, but he pushes on against the blaring radio. His conversation with Lauren has stuck in his craw. He did his best to make light of things, keep things moving. The truth is, he hadn’t known she was getting stick at school. She had never said much about the place. He had an inkling but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her more. Not much of a dad, he thinks to himself. His mind skips over to the drinks cabinet in Catriona’s kitchen. Not much of a man. Not much of anything. She has Jura single malt and Harris sugar kelp gin; he’s looked. No wonder she left you. He tries to focus on unscrewing a cabinet from the corner of the living room, reaching into the dark corner, feeling for the bracket. Lauren will too. One day. The screws have been drilled in too tight. He tries over and over to take the little bracket apart, but his fingers feel thick and dirty against the rounded edges of the plastic block. Not much of anything. He puts pressure on the screwdriver until he is almost shaking, his teeth clenched.

The screwdriver slips and stabs him in the hand.

‘Fuck’s sake.’ He wheels back, his jumper catching on a nail that is jutting out from the back of the handle. He throws the screwdriver against the wall and twists round to free himself.

He tries to wrench the cabinet door off its hinges with his bare hands. It doesn’t come off, but just scrapes against his skin until it bleeds. ‘Piece of shit.’ He thumps the cabinet hard and tries again, with no luck. He grabs the hammer from his tool kit and launches himself against the wood, hacking it with the claw. ‘Fucking piece of shit!’ His voice is loud over the radio.

He hacks until his back is slick with sweat. The cabinet starts to come off the wall through sheer force, ripping patches of the plaster. It’s come apart now but he keeps hacking, because it feels too good. ‘Absolute fucking bastard.’ He is stamping on wood and tearing plaster, his arms and hands catching against splinters. He can’t let go of the hammer. His hair is sticking to his skull and his shirt is clinging to his back.

He kicks the remains of the cabinet with another groan and peels back, teeth bared, to see Catriona standing in the doorway.