‘Know something?’

‘What?’

‘It must be over two hours since you had a cigarette.’

‘Oh, you monster.’

As the bus drew into the bomb site Joe saw Brendan standing by the corner of the garden shop. He looked quickly away and edged himself behind Kathleen as she stepped down from the bus.

‘Quock,’ said the driver behind them, as he wrote down the time of their arrival on a card.

Kathleen burst into one of her laughs. Joe tucked his head down between his shoulders and stared at the ground. If he couldn’t see Brendan, perhaps Brendan couldn’t see him. The ostrich principle.

‘Hello.’

He heard Kathleen’s voice tentatively speaking.

‘Hello, Miss …’ Brendan hesitated.

The ostrich never wins.

‘Hello, Brendan,’ he said, trying not to sound too unfriendly.

‘Hi, kiddo.’

The three of them stood for a moment looking uncertainly at each other.

‘Quock, quock.’ The driver jumped down from the bus and nudged Kathleen with his elbow as he passed.

‘You’re wet,’ commented Brendan finally. ‘The two of you.’

‘You are, too.’ Kathleen put out a hand and touched his sleeve. ‘Have you been waiting for us?’

‘Well … sort of … Miss … Miss …?’

‘Doherty,’ said Joe, without much enthusiasm.

‘Oh, call me Kathleen.’

Brendan nodded thanks at her.

‘There’s been a bit of trouble … well, you know … bother … nothing too bad, but Mam asked me to see he got safely home. The wain.’

Bloody cheek, thought Joe. Lies, too. I bet that’s a lie. The wain. He looked at Kathleen who was looking at Brendan as if he were an honest, good-hearted sort of person.

‘We thought we’d go to my place and dry off a bit. Your mother wouldn’t mind that, would she?’

‘I don’t suppose she would.’

Liar. Cheat. Finagler.

‘That’s good. Why don’t you come too and have a cup of tea?’ She looked a bit embarrassed suddenly. ‘I mean … you don’t have to … or anything … I can see Joe home. Safely. Just if you’ve nothing else …’

‘Right on,’ said Brendan.

They started to walk up the hill. The rain was easing off.

‘What was the trouble? Was anyone hurt?’

‘There was rioting in Waterloo Street. This morning.’

‘Bad?’

‘Quite bad. A couple of shops went. The usual sort of thing.’

‘Anyone hurt?’

‘Not too bad.’ He paused for a moment. ‘A couple of soldiers killed.’

‘Oh, God.’ Joe’s legs had stiffened after the bus ride and he was having trouble in getting himself up the hill.

‘How?’

‘Shot. Sniper. Single-shot killings. Marksman stuff.’

‘You sound pleased.’

‘I won’t weep any tears. Will you?’

‘You could spend all your life crying.’

‘Hasn’t your job started yet?’ asked Joe.

‘Monday. I’ll be away for five days on Monday. That make you happy?’

Joe scowled.

‘What’s your new job?’

‘Just driving. Long-distance lorry. You know.’

‘Over to England and back?’

‘Well, no. Just round and about. Across the border and that. No great shakes.’

‘Will you like that?’