Barry immediately let go of Megan’s hair. He set the iron down on the drainer next to the sink and bent over to pick up the ironing board. The bell-ringing and the knocking went on, and now somebody was kicking at the door panels too.

‘Listen, I was only codding about branding you,’ said Barry. ‘Do you have me? I just wanted to put the fear of God into you, that’s all.’

Megan stared at him, unable to speak, fingering her nose where it had been scorched by the heat of the iron.

‘That’ll be the shades, girl, no question. Remember what I said to you. You don’t know nothing and you never heard nothing and you don’t know none of those feens that was shot. Not Feargal not Jimmy not Padraig not Cathal and you don’t know Cathal’s sister or Jimmy’s ma neither.’

With that, Barry went out into the hallway screaming, ‘All right! All right! I heard you the first time! Stall the fecking ball, will you? What are you trying to do, kick my fecking door in?’

He opened the door and there was Detective Sergeant Begley and Detective Cushley, with four uniformed gardaí behind them. Barry could see that most of his near neighbours had opened their front doors or drawn back their living-room curtains to see what all the disturbance was about.

‘How’s the form, Barry?’ asked Detective Sergeant Begley. Both he and Detective Cushley were holding up their IDs. ‘Having a restful afternoon at home, are we?’

‘I was, yeah, until you lot started beating four colours of shite out of my poor defenceless front door. Look what you’ve done to the fecking paintwork. I’ll be sending you the tab for that, you can count on it. What are you after?’

‘Have you been watching the news on the TV at all? Or listening to it, on the radio?’

‘No. I’ve been having a few gatts with my pals in The Cotton Ball since about twelve. I’ve only this minute come back. So what’s been on the news? Something important?’

‘Important to you, I’d say, Barry. We’d like you to come down to the station with us, if that’s all right with you, so that we can ask you one or two questions.’

‘Questions about what?’

‘Let’s leave that till we get to Anglesea Street, shall we? But once we’ve told you why we want to talk to you, you can ring your solicitor if you want to, or we can provide a duty lawyer for you.’

‘What if I tell you to go and stick your head up your arse?’

‘Then I’d have to tell you that you were suggesting something physically impossible and arrest you.’

‘Arrest me what for?’