‘You must come and join the queue some day.’

They laughed and Joe felt better.

‘I’ll write out that poem for you. I’ll see you after school.’

‘You’re a love.’

She opened the door and the wind pulled at their clothes and punched their faces.

‘Quick, go. Fly. We mustn’t let too much of that in.’

‘Goodbye and thanks. It was great.’

‘Yes. We’ll do it again.’

‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Brendan.

‘Goodbye.’ She shut the door and they hurried off down the hill.

‘What did you have to say that for?’ asked Brendan.

‘What?’

‘That, about us not having a bathroom.’

‘It’s true. We haven’t’

‘No need to spread it around. Not to … well, not to spread it around.’

‘In future I’ll tell everyone we’ve two bathrooms with fitted carpets and telly.’

‘There’s no need to be bloody cheeky.’

‘When Brendan’s away, can I go back in my own bed again?’

Monday. That awful morning. Homework not finished. Winter sunshine trying to edge its way through net curtains. Ashes and dust still blowing through the tired streets. Mam’s face full of pain at having to move into yet another week. He could hear Brendan moving upstairs and the pan sizzled with a fry for the working man.

‘You’ll stay where you are.’

‘Ah, Mam …’

‘I spoke,’ she said sharply. ‘I spoke and that’s that. I have enough trouble on me without you causing me more. There’s nothing wrong with the bed you’re in. There’s many has no bed.’

‘But that’s my bed he’s in. It isn’t fair.’

‘Will you quit. Just quit.’ She spooned some fat over the egg in the pan. He visualised the face of the egg turning from yellow to faintest pink. ‘Life isn’t fair and it’s time you knew it.’

He swallowed down a mouthful of tea and got up from the table.

‘Finish your toast.’

She had eyes in the back of her head.

‘I’ve had enough.’

She slammed the spoon down on the top of the stove, but said nothing. He picked his school bag up from the floor and left the room.

‘Goodbye,’ he said, as he reached the door. She didn’t reply. Brendan was in the passage, stuffing things into his duffel bag. He was wearing a black leather jacket and tight blue jeans.

‘Off to school?’

Joe nodded as he pushed past him and took down his coat.

‘Look, kiddo, I’m sorry if I muscled in on Saturday. Did I spoil your crack? Did I?’

‘I didn’t care. Why should I?’

‘Here.’ Brendan held a fifty-pence piece out towards his brother. ‘Could you use this?’

‘Thanks.’ Joe took the coin.

‘See you in a few days. Be good. Tooraloo.’ He went in to the kitchen to have his pink egg and bacon crisp and curled around the edges. He would remain untouched by Mam’s anger. Joe banged the door as he went out.

During the maths class he wrote out the poem for Kathleen. He used the centre page of his exercise book so that he could pull it out neatly without anyone noticing. Miss McCabe paid no heed to him for the whole class. No questions were flung in his direction. The mysteries of diameter and radius passed over and around him.