He ran until he reached the house. His father began thumping on the floor as soon as he heard him in the hall. Joe dropped his school bag on the floor and went up to him.

‘What is it?’

‘I want my tea.’

He was like some evil old demon propped up there in his grey pyjamas with an old jersey pulled over the top of them. His eyes were a dirty grey like the pyjamas.

‘Give me time to take my coat off, can’t you?’

‘My tongue is hanging out.’

‘I’ll get it for you in a minute.’

‘And then you can run up the road and get me a couple of bottles of stout. Before she comes in.’

‘There’s shooting.’

‘Ah.’ He leaned back against the crumpled pillows. ‘I thought I heard something.’

‘Two soldiers.’

‘Dead?’

‘I don’t know. Hit anyway. Dead, I think.’

They could hear the ambulances in the distance.

The old man smiled.

‘That’s as good as a tonic. Go you on down and get the tea. I’ll be down after you.’

Joe rattled the fire and filled it, listening all the time to the heavy movements from the man in the room above. He put the kettle on and wondered what a man would look like that had had a hole blown in his head. There was a bang on the door. He went and opened it. Peter stood there.

‘She told me to come on home,’ said Joe. ‘So I did. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m on my way home too.’

‘Do you want to come in?’

Peter shook his head. They stood looking at each other.

‘Did you see anything.’

‘They covered them up with red blankets.’

‘Does that mean …?’

‘I’d better get on. They have to wash the street. Did you know that?’

‘Red blankets?’

‘It’s always red blankets. I’d better get on.’

‘See you.’

‘See you.’

‘Who’s that at the door, Joe?’ His father was on the stairs.

Peter ran down the hill. Joe closed the door and went back into the kitchen.

‘Did you not hear me? Who was it?’ He was nearly halfway down.

‘Peter.’

‘Who’s Peter when he’s at home?’

‘My friend.’

He heard his mother at the door.

‘Are you in, Joe?’

She closed the door and came along the passage.

‘I’m in.’

She came into the kitchen.

‘I’m glad of that.’

She became aware of the old man.

‘So you’re getting up.’

‘Have you heard the news?’

‘I suppose you’re away off to celebrate.’

‘Cause for celebration.’

Joe put the teapot on the table.

‘I’ve made the tea.’

‘Thanks, son.’

Dad reached the bottom of the stairs, clutching on to the banister rail. He threw his head back in a dramatic gesture and began to sing.

‘A nation once again …’

‘If you want a cup of tea, sit down in peace and have it.’

‘A nation once again …’

‘Did you hear me?’

‘Two of the enemy are dead.’

‘Two children.’

‘What do you mean, children?’