‘Put it away,’ she said sharply to him, and moved with speed across the room to hide her bag in at the back of the press.

‘Who were you with last night

Out in the pale moonlight?’

Brendan winked across the room at him as he sang. He had let a cold wind into the room with him as he entered, which stirred the newspapers by Dad’s chair. Joe squashed some strawberry jam down on to his bread and didn’t look at his brother. His father slopped tea into his saucer as his shaking hand lifted the cup.

‘Dum diddley um dum, dum, dum.’

There was a whiff of drink from him, and his eyes were shiny.

‘You’re late too. What’s got into you both at all today?’

She got up slowly, pushing with her hands on her knees, and went over to get Brendan’s plate out of the oven. Brendan winked again in the general direction of Joe and sat down. The legs of his chair squeaked over the linoleum. The strawberry jam was too sweet, it sickened the inside of Joe’s mouth.

‘It’s all dried up,’ said Mam, putting the plate down on the table in front of Brendan. ‘But you’ve no one to blame but yourself.’

Father coughed. They had been told at school that seven million germs rushed out of your mouth when you coughed. Well, give or take a million or two. Probably several million more with the old fellow as he really put everything he had into his coughs. The strawberry jam would be a good germ trap. He put the half-eaten slice of bread down on the plate and pushed it away from him. Germ trap.

‘Where were you anyway?’ asked the old man, his coughing spasm past.

‘Out and about. Celebrating.’

‘It’s well for you that has something to celebrate. There’s not many in that position.’ She handed a cup of tea across the table to him.

‘There’s no point in celebrating the end of one day even, because you know the next one is always there waiting for you.’

Brendan fumbled in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a fiver. He stretched it tight between his fingers. The Queen of England’s face stared sternly up at him from the table. His father’s eye was more than casually on the note.

‘Would a fiver come in handy, Mam?’

He shoved it over to her. She let it lie by her plate.

‘Where did you get that?’ Her voice was sharp.

‘Oh, the begrudger,’ said father, his fingers visibly twitching.

‘I’ve got a job.’

‘Well now, isn’t that grand?’ said father. ‘Isn’t that grand. Did you hear that now?’ He turned to his wife. ‘Isn’t that a great thing?’

There was silence.

‘Didn’t I say he’d do that? Didn’t I tell you? Wasn’t I right? By God, this calls for a celebration, so it does.’ He looked hopefully at his son. Brendan gave him a wink and a nod. Intimate, almost secret.