‘I can never correct the books without puffing away. Otherwise I give everyone terrible marks.’ She laughed. ‘Isn’t that stupid?’

‘I always get terrible marks anyway.’

‘Only because you don’t care. You’re the sort of pupil drives teachers mad. Full of ability, but not caring a half-penny.’

For some reason she switched on the radio which was on the floor beside her. It was a fidget really, he decided, rather than a desire to hear anything. ‘Now we have time to kill,’ sang some young men, their voices clear, syncopated.

‘Kill the shadows on our skin,

Kill the fire that burns within,

Killing time, my friend.’

Dreamtime. The words danced into Joe’s mind.

‘Killing time, my friend.’

Under the words the music jigged. Dreamtime. The mug drooped in his fingers.

‘Mind,’ she said. ‘Oh, mind.’

A stream of cocoa poured on to the floor. He righted the mug with a jerk of his wrist.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll …’

‘No. Don’t bother. I’ll do it.’

She fetched a cloth from the sink and stooped over.

‘Now we have time to kill …’ Quicker than before.

‘Kill the shadows on our skin. Kill the …’

‘Poor old time.’

She looked up at him, her face red from stooping.

‘People are always killing time. Some people do nothing else all their lives … killing time before it kills them.’ She laughed briefly. ‘I think someone else must have said that before me.’

‘I see the last black swan

Fly past the sun.

I wish I, too, were gone

Back home again.’

He drained the remains of his cocoa down his throat, skin and all, forcing the soft pieces down with difficulty, penance for his carelessness.

‘It seems our fortunes lied …’

‘We’d better go,’ she said, rinsing the cloth under the tap.

‘Despite our gain.’

‘First good Saturday. Sun, you know. We’ll go up in the hills. Grianan or somewhere. Would you like that?’

‘I wouldn’t mind.’

‘Our tears fall like our pride. We cry in shame.’

‘Not a very enthusiastic response.’ She handed him his anorak.

‘I’d like it a lot, but you probably have other things to do.’

‘Now we’ve got time to kill …’

‘I probably haven’t. Have you ever been to Grianan?’

He shook his head.

‘Well that’s a date them. We’ll bring hard-boiled eggs. I love hard-boiled eggs.’

‘Kill the fire that burns within …’

She opened the door and they went out on to the landing.

‘Aren’t you going to turn the radio off?’

She closed the door on the voices.

‘Killing time, my …’

‘I hate going into dark lonely rooms.’

He understood.

The unfriendly smell still clutched at him as he tapped across the lino. Outside there was shouting coming from across the hill. No one was about. Even the shop on the corner was empty. The owner was putting up the shutters as they arrived.

‘How’s yourself?’ he asked Kathleen and nodded to Joe.

‘You’re closing early.’ She handed him the money for the cigarettes.