The diversion was over.

‘This is becoming a habit. Almost a habit.’

‘Hello, Kathleen.’ He said her name with diffidence.

‘Not kept in today?’

He grinned.

‘No. I have extra homework though.’

‘You must be the bane of your teacher’s life.’

‘She’s the bane of my life. What does it mean anyway?’

‘A sort of walking talking nightmare. What were you up to this time?’

‘I wasn’t listening. I was wasting her time and my time, the whole world’s time.’

‘Why don’t you go and play with your friends when you come out?’

‘Mam doesn’t like me to. It’s because of … well … you know, the way things are.’

‘You might be lured to the barricades.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Or be killed by a stray bullet from the soldiers and become a hero. A national hero.’

‘Like my father. Mam wouldn’t want two heroes in the family.’

‘Is your father a hero?’

‘He says he is anyway.’

They both laughed.

‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘I only live up the hill a little bit. Come on home and have a cup of tea with me. It’s too cold to stand around here. Or would your mother mind?’

‘I wouldn’t have to tell her, would I?’

‘You can suit yourself.’

‘Thanks then, that would be nice.’

They walked in silence up the road, leaning slightly forward against the wind. She fished in her pocket for the cigarettes and put one in her mouth. She didn’t light it though, just rolled it from side to side as she walked. They came to a terrace of high grey houses with steps rising steeply up to the doors from the pavement. At the first one she stopped and lit the cigarette.

‘Here we are.’ Smoke trickled from her nose as she spoke. ‘I told you it wasn’t far.’

He followed her up the steps. In the long dark hall there was a faint smell of gas and damp clothes, which faded as they went up the stairs. Her room was on the first floor with a window that looked across the road and through the empty windows of a burnt-out house. The windows stared back at him as he tried to make sense of the glimpses of light and shadow that he could see beyond them. They were unfriendly.

‘Do you like Jaffa cakes?’

He turned away from the window.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s just as well. They’re all I’ve got.’

‘This is where you live?’

She laughed.

‘Yes.’

‘Why are you laughing?’

‘It’s such an odd question to ask. It really is.’

‘Have you no family? A mother or father or something like that?’

‘Nope.’

‘Oh.’

‘Mothers or fathers have I none.’

The gas lit with a pop and blue flames spread up the face of the fire and then slowly turned to orange. He moved towards the warmth.

‘Brothers or sisters?’

‘No.’

The conversation wasn’t exactly swinging.

‘You’re alone so?’

‘Do you want tea or cocoa?’

He considered the question.

‘How do you make your cocoa?’