‘He must be getting on if he fought in the Civil War,’ was all she said.

‘Yes. He’s old all right. He says … well, he says a lot of things, but Mammy says you shouldn’t believe everything you hear. She says that a lot.’

‘I can see your mother’s point of view. For myself, I prefer to believe most things cautiously.’

‘Are you a Protestant?’

She threw her head back and roared with laughter.

‘What gives you that idea?’

He blushed.

‘I hope you don’t mind. I just … I don’t know really.’

‘I don’t mind a bit. My mother was. So how clever you are. A positive mind-bending mind-reader.’

‘I’d like to be handy with words. Like you. You are.’

‘I’m sure you will be one day.’

‘The cocoa’s good.’

‘In spite of the skin?’

He nodded.

‘Have another biscuit?’

‘Yes. Thanks.’

Two men ran along the street and round the corner, the metal on their heels sparking the pavement as they ran. She gave a little shiver and got up. She went over to the window and peered out and then, even though it wasn’t yet dark, she pulled the curtains tight together. Keeping safety in. The safe room glowed in the warmth from the gas fire. The curtains were of some heavy brown material and her hand looked very white against them. It looked almost like a bird from where he sat watching.

‘Soon the spring will come,’ she said, her hand still holding together the edges of the curtains. ‘Nothing ever seems so bad in the spring.’

‘And then the summer,’ he said.

She came over and sat down beside him again.

‘I’ll be gone then.’

‘Oh.’

‘My job was only for the year. I’ll have to go then. I must say …’

She leant forward and blew the surface of her cocoa, blew the wrinkled skin over to one side and then took a sip.

‘I didn’t know you were going.’

‘I have to.’ She smiled to herself. ‘I have a commitment elsewhere.’

‘Don’t you like it here?’

‘I like it all right. It’s not that.’

‘Are you feared?’

She considered before speaking.

‘I suppose so. I’m afraid of something awful happening. I don’t just mean bombs and all that. You get sort of used to that in a horrible way, but something deeply awful … I can’t explain. Words are aggravating the way they hide on you when you need them most. We must do a lot of things together, you and I, before I go. If you’d like to, that is …’

‘That’d be OK.’

‘Good.’

She put out a hand and touched his knee.

‘Drink up, there’s a good boy. I wouldn’t want your mother to be worried. I’ll walk part of the way home with you.’

‘You needn’t bother.’

He felt, suddenly, that he was being treated as a child.

‘No bother. I have to get my evening’s supply of poison.’

He sipped slowly at his drink, not wanting to be rushed or pushed around.