After he’d stepped down from the cabinet, his alliance of independent politicians had imploded. Unable to agree on his replacement, they’d fought like rats in a sack. For a while, the country seemed to be lurching towards an election. Eventually, a web of deals led to the elevation of a cautious Tipperary man called Roy Comerford. The reshuffle also saw the re-emergence of Cyril Dinan. He was now the junior minister for mental health. Emboldened by his return from the wilderness, Cyril was trying to offend everyone he hadn’t already offended. Tom stood back and watched. As promised, he continued to support the government. He would retire at the next general election. Already, a range of possible successors had let it be known that they were willing to serve. Tom wasn’t sure what he would do. He didn’t know if it would be possible to return to youth work. His father assured him that there’d always be a job in the filling station.

The courts had decided that Helen didn’t represent a flight risk. She’d been given bail and was living with Nina in Dublin. Emmet remained in Kilmitten. He was distraught, all his bluster and arrogance blown away. Only the very hard-hearted wouldn’t have had sympathy for him. Julian and Nina were getting a legal separation. He was living with his new partner. ‘I hope they’re very happy,’ said Nina, ‘because I definitely don’t want him back.’

Tom and Nina had met several times. They had a lot to talk about. At their last meeting, a month or so ago, she’d told him that she spent most days picking shrapnel from her wounds. Occasionally, though, she felt like she was recovering the person she’d left behind many years before.

As he thought of her, there she was, sauntering up the track, Tess to one side, Conor a few paces behind. She’d done something to her hair. It was a bit shorter, a lot glossier. She was wearing a blue summer dress. Tom approved. She must have noticed his appraisal for the first thing she said was ‘Today might be our summer. I didn’t want to leave the poor dress mouldering at the back of the wardrobe.’

‘We went shopping yesterday – in Dublin,’ said Tess, who was wearing a similar dress in green.

‘Well, Tess did most of the shopping,’ said Nina.

‘Some things never change,’ said Conor.

They began rambling up the gentle slope of Toomey’s Hill, the sun at their backs. In a couple of months’ time, the grass might have withered to a dull yellow. That afternoon it was still a bright tufted green.

‘So,’ said Tess to Tom, ‘did you hear Conor’s news?’

‘Nope, but I’ve a feeling you’re about to fill me in.’

‘I think that’s his job.’

‘Ah,’ said Conor, ‘so what it is … well, the thing is …’