‘Hi, kiddo.’

‘You’re back.’

‘I’m back.’

‘Did you have a good evening, son?’ She raised her eyes from the sock. Her hands were still for a moment.

‘Aye.’ His voice was non-committal.

‘Where were you?’ Brendan folded up the paper as he spoke.

For one dreadful moment Joe couldn’t remember where he had told his mother he had been going. His face must have shown his panic, because Brendan got up from the table and tapped him on the head with the folded newspaper.

‘I was over at Logues.’ He spoke the words quickly and quietly in case his mother thought to cross-examine him about his evening. What did you have for your tea? and what had Mrs Logue to say for herself and this and that? But she was busy pulling at a piece of grey wool with her teeth, the sock in one hand, the needle in the other.

‘I’m away out,’ said Brendan to all and sundry.

His father dropped the paper on the floor.

‘I’ll be with you.’

‘Not tonight, Dad. I have a fella to see.’

The old man pushed himself up on to his feet.

‘I’ll not be in your way. Your friends are my friends. I can keep a deaf ear if I have to. We can have a mouthful of beer.’

‘No, Dad … not tonight … It’s work I have …’

‘I’ll wait up in the bar till you’ve finished your work.’

‘Sorry.’

Without waiting for any more discussion, Brendan turned and left the room. The three of them waited in silence until the hall door had closed. Mam moved first. She put the sock on its mushroom down on the table.

‘I’ll make a cup of tea.’

She got up and went out to the scullery.

The old man sat down slowly in his chair.

‘He’s never done that to me before.’

Joe stared at the squares on the oilcloth. Some crumbs still remained from their tea.

‘He never …’

Joe could hear the water running into the kettle and then the squeak the tap always made when it was turned off.

‘Weeks he’s been home now and he’s never gone without me.’

‘There’s a first time for everything.’

She carried the kettle in and put it on the stove.

‘His friends were my friends.’

‘Can’t you leave him be. There’s no other boy in Derry had to take his old father around with him wherever he went. Making a show of him.’

‘They were always glad to see me, so they were … Always listened. Always engaged me in edifying conversation. They had time for me.’

‘Well, tonight they’ll have a bit of peace.’

‘You’re hard.’

‘It’s better to be hard than soft in the head.’

There was no reply to that one … The old man’s head drooped towards his chest. Some small worm of pity moved inside Joe.

‘Maybe he has a girl,’ he said and was instantly appalled by the words, by the possibility of the truth in the words, by the possibility …