‘Mam will be wondering where you are.’

‘No, she won’t.’

‘She likes you to go straight home.’

‘Not now the evenings are getting lighter. She doesn’t mind.’

Kathleen handed him his tea.

‘Thank you,’ he said in a loud voice.

‘If you two are going to fight,’ she said, ‘you must go and do it somewhere else.’

Silence.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Brendan. ‘It’s not my day. You’re a great skin, Joe. I mean that.’

‘Let’s all be jolly.’ Kathleen switched on the radio and there was a blast of music.

‘No.’

‘No.’ She switched it off.

‘Kathleen, I’ve got to talk to you.’

‘Later …’

‘Please.’

Joe got up. He still had half the bun in his hand.

‘I’ve got to go.’

‘Ah, Joe …’

‘He’s right about Mam.’

‘I’m sorry, pet.’

‘That’s all right.’

She put her arms round him and kissed him.

‘Tomorrow.’

Her face was soft and smelt of soap. He leaned against her cheek for a moment.

‘Yes.’

‘Everything will be all right tomorrow. You’ll see.’

He went down the stairs on his own, listening to their voices fade, and out into the street, still holding the bun. He dropped it in the gutter. He wondered what it was that Brendan wanted to say. He wondered why it was so hard to speak to people. When you were alone conversation thrived inside your head, but when confronted with another human being, even your thoughts died. A wind was scattering dust and papers round the street, feeling at his face with cold fingers. Would he tell her about the gun? What, anyway, about the gun? Had he ever used the gun? On the pictures they could look down the barrel and tell you. No one would ever know now. Unless, of course, they dragged the river. But they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t do that. A laughable thought. Was Brendan soft on her? It didn’t really matter. She had Fred Burgess. The sooner she went away and married him the better.

Words run

In and out of your mind

Like children playing.

And then

When you really need them,

Like children,

They disappear.

Maybe tomorrow would be a good day. Maybe … maybe … He was home.

No one was speaking that evening. His mother put the food on the table and they ate in silence. Dad read the paper and coughed from time to time. He ate nothing. His face was pale and small beads of sweat gathered on his forehead and clung to the sides of his nose. Brendan didn’t appear. Mam sighed and glanced at the clock from time to time. His food dried in the oven. Joe did his homework and went to bed.

The next morning he got up when he heard his mother going down the stairs. He got dressed quickly and had his hand on the door when Brendan spoke.

‘Joe.’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell Mam I’ll be down soon for breakfast.’

‘You’re early.’

‘I’m packing in the job.’