‘Nah, thanks. Noleen brought over some homework. I think I’ll just get stuck into that.’

‘Good girl.’

‘Noleen said that everyone is sayin’ nice things about us and the press have a cheek.’

‘They’re just doing their jobs.’

‘They’re saying we’re scumbags, Ma.’

‘They’re not.’

‘They might as well be.’

‘It doesn’t matter. We know what we are.’

‘Yeah,’ Valerie said. ‘What’s that?’

‘We’re just people doing our best under the circumstances, love. Nobody’s perfect.’

‘Even Jeremy?’ Valerie said.

‘Even Jeremy,’ Maisie admitted.

‘Have a nice drive, Ma.’ Valerie returned to her studies.

Maisie had her reasons for wanting Carina Murphy to step up to the plate. She didn’t know what the boys were doing in Blessington or why they were doing it, and instead of driving herself mad, thinking in circles, guessing and wondering, she was focused on getting them back, and Carina was the key. She knew that if Rave was watching the conference and Carina pleaded with him to come home, he would. She knew this because Rave had stayed in her house and in Jeremy’s room on and off for two years after his mother had abandoned him. She had comforted him when he’d cried himself to sleep, she’d fed him and put clothes on his back when Sid hadn’t the will to get out of bed, long before he’d taken to heroin. She’d talked to Rave and shown him how to clean a house because he’d wanted to know. He wasn’t a cook but scrubbing gave him great satisfaction and a general sense of wellbeing.

They had been close. He would tell Maisie things he wouldn’t tell anyone else, little secrets about his daddy sleeping all day or how cold it sometimes got in the house. ‘It’s all right, though, Maisie. I keep me coat on and stay under me duvet.’

Back then, she had knocked on Sid’s door more times than she could count, giving him lectures about caring for his son and paying for his heating when she could barely afford her own. She’d talked to him for hours, trying to get him to fight for himself and his child. He wasn’t a person who suffered from depression, he was just lonely and miserable, lazy, selfish and sad. He grieved terribly for the son he’d lost while ignoring the son he had.

When Rave was twelve he’d arrived after school one day at Maisie’s house with Jeremy. She hadn’t seen him for a few days and he looked awful. ‘Rave, you’re a little yellow. Are you OK, lovey?’

‘I dunno.’

‘Will ya tell me what’s wrong, lovey? Try to explain.’

‘I think I’m dyin’.’

‘Why’s that, lovey?’

‘I’m burnin’, then I’m cold, then I’m burnin’ again. I keep getting sick and me …’

‘And what, love?’