‘Not really.’ The words came out huskily. Matty should have been there, even though Rosa had become more brittle, cold, drunk. Should have known what was coming, been there to see any signs.

‘And how’s your father taken it?’

It was like being stunned, hearing him called that. A brief, white light. ‘I don’t know. He left.’

The baby had started whining. Carly sat her on a knee and bounced her up and down, pointing at the TV.

Maureen was staring. ‘Well, isn’t that just it.’ Her voice hardened. ‘He never changed, did he?’ The question didn’t seem to be aimed at anyone.

‘I didn’t know if you’d – seen him.’ It was already obvious what the answer was.

‘You’ve not?’

‘Not since I was eleven.’

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ she said, a rushed, exasperated sigh. As if a small child was irritating her.

Matty watched her as she drank from her mug. The nearest to Joe in all this time. There was some of him in her eyes, set a little close together, and the skin colouring, though her face was much longer.

‘Well, I don’t know what to say,’ Maureen said. ‘My brother. Not a family man.’

It’s not true, Matty thought. He was once.

‘And you’re looking for him, are you?’

‘Yeah. I didn’t know he’d left. I mean—’ Carly was pretending not to look over, a face that was part puzzled, part incredulous. ‘I thought he’d maybe died. My mum had said he had.’ It sounded idiotic.

‘Is that right?’ Maureen said.

The tea was stewed, tiny brown islands floating on the surface. ‘I don’t know where he is.’

‘Well, he’s not been in, if that’s what you were hoping. I haven’t seen him since he was twenty years old. He came back twice after he took off to England. Our mother never recovered. The shame of it. She had a broken heart for years.’

‘Where’s she now?’ Matty remembered being on the phone to her, aged six or so. Standing in the hallway, Joe’s hand resting on a shoulder, saying Hello? Hello? into the phone and Granna, in a tangled, faraway voice, as if calling from the moon, shouting Hello? Hello? back.

Maureen shook her head. ‘Gone, God rest her. We don’t last as long as you lot.’ A dark, wry look that was startlingly like Joe, before she stood up. ‘You’ll stay for some dinner.’

Kevin came home, a large man in a polo shirt with a rash of black-grey stubble. He seemed unperturbed by the new arrival, putting his hand out to be shaken before sitting on the sofa and gazing at the TV.