They walked on down the quay, stepping with care over the ropes and chains and watching the water change in colour as the sun went behind the hill. There was only the one ship moored and the whole place had a lonely and rather melancholy feeling about it.

‘Home, James,’ she said suddenly.

‘Who’s James?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just something my father used to say. Home, James, and don’t spare the horses. It comes into my mind from time to time. It has a sort of ring about it.’

They turned up a narrow street away from the water. From far away down the river came the twitter of the six o’clock hooter from the power station.

‘I’ll be massacred.’

He started to run, leaving her behind. After a few yards he remembered her and turned.

‘I must fly.’

‘Goodbye, sparrow.’

The lights on the lamp standards looked like diamonds in the pale evening light.

There was no row when he got home. His mother was sitting at the table reading the Journal. The sound of the radio in his father’s room was muted. She looked up at him as he came in, his mouth and throat full of apologies and lies. ‘The evenings are drawing out now.’ She said nothing else, looked back down at the photographs of smiling brides, who didn’t know what they were letting themselves in for.

‘I’ll have your tea for you in a few minutes. Go and wash your hands.’

Out in the scullery he held his hands under the tap and watched the water bouncing off them into the sink.

A cat strolls,

Black with green eyes,

On the wet deck,

Hoping

Against hope

That he won’t fall into the sea.

He laughed out aloud.

‘What’s so funny?’ Her voice called to him from the kitchen.

‘Nothing.’

His hands were red after the cold water. He dried them carefully on the roller towel.

‘Share the joke.’

‘It was only something inside my head made me laugh.’

He sat down at his place. She had folded the paper away and was getting the plates out of the oven.

‘Is Dad not coming down?’

‘He’s suffering.’

‘Is he bad?’

‘He’s dead, but he won’t lie down.’

Fried black pudding and tomatoes. Chips.

‘Ooh, chips.’

She leaned across the table and poured his tea.

‘Did you ever see a cat on a boat?’

‘Eat your tea before it gets cold and don’t be asking silly questions.’

It was a couple of days after that two more soldiers were shot dead. Joe and Peter were just coming out of school when the patrol went past them. Three of the men were walking forwards and the fourth backwards, his head moving from side to side, his hands gripping tight on to his gun. The boys barely noticed them. Joe had one eye out for Kathleen as they went down the hill, but there was no sign of her.

‘What’ll we do?’ asked Peter.

‘I don’t mind.’