Jeremy was softer but that didn’t make him weak. He was a brave boy with a big heart. He was always polite to Fred but he was more closed off than his sister. It was hard to know what the boy was thinking half the time. A person knew where they were with Valerie, but even as a small boy Jeremy had been more of an enigma. Fred didn’t have much time for kids. He didn’t know many. His only brother had settled in Australia fifteen years previously. He had two kids but Fred had only met them twice. Most of the kids he met through work were either victims or deeply troubled, and Maisie’s – despite her circumstances – were neither. They were just kids, getting by, doing their best. He admired her for that, especially after what he’d witnessed them all go through.

He loved the story about Valerie finding the neighbours’ cat Pebbles dead in the road. The Joyce clan was on holiday so she’d grabbed one of Bridie’s merino-wool cardigans from the washing line, wrapped the dead cat in it and placed the bundle carefully inside the freezer between a bag of ice lollies and a packet of four lamb chops. She didn’t bother communicating her grisly find so when Jeremy fancied an ice lolly, reached in and pulled out a wide-eyed, stiffened Pebbles, he did what any normal kid would do: he spewed his guts up and cried for his mammy. The fact that he was fourteen and his best friend Rave was doubled over laughing with his baby sister didn’t help.

‘He took a while to get over that one. He wouldn’t even walk past the freezer for a month,’ Maisie said.

‘Ah, she was only doing her best for the Joyces.’ Fred chuckled.

‘Yeah,’ Maisie agreed, ‘if you consider charging them a fiver for storage as doing her best.’

Although he’d spent years mooning over her, the scene in the supermarket had been totally spur-of-the-moment, and he had immediately worried as to whether or not he was doing the right thing. He knew how damaged she was, but there was something about Maisie that made it worth the risk. He believed that if they gave each other a chance they’d fit like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and, despite the awkward start to the evening, they did.

‘I’d like to call you Mai,’ he announced in the car on their way home.

‘You can call me what you like, Garda Brennan,’ she said, attempting to flirt and instantly feeling uncomfortable. ‘Sorry, that sounded weird.’ She was tipsy and Fred had only drunk two glasses of wine. Oh no.

He laughed. ‘How about from here on in you call me Fred and I’ll call you Mai?’

Maisie bit her lip, but her smile travelled across her face. ‘That’s a deal, Fred.’