Some folks were moaning about Paddy O’Grady, the politician, who was trapped in the Canaries. His flight home had been cancelled because Dublin airport was buried in snow. ‘If he wanted to be here, he’d make it,’ Tom heard Mags Moynihan say. His dad said that if people were upset about Paddy O’Grady getting a few rays of sun in Lanzarote they had little enough to worry them.

Although most of the bars and shops were open, the petrol pumps remained idle. Normally, Tom’s mother would have got worked up over this. At the moment, she didn’t seem to care.

During the funeral, the bishop had spoken about what Father Galvin had done with his life. Apparently, he’d always wanted to go on the Missions and had been hoping to live in Africa one day. At this, several people sniffled, and one woman let out a long wail. Tom tried to imagine Father Galvin saying Mass in a mud hut, but the image was all wrong. He had belonged in Ireland where he could drink a small Paddy (dash of water, no ice) and go to the horse races. The bishop said he’d had two brothers and three sisters. Tom had been fascinated by the priest’s parents, who looked really, really ancient. They might be ninety or more. For the first time, it struck him that Father Galvin had been a real person with a real family; that he might have fought with his sisters and bunked off school and had thoughts about girls.

Back home now, his father was making an effort to be cheerful. He pressed the buttons on the gas heater until it fired up with a loud whoosh.

‘Are you okay with sleeping here?’ he said to Tom. ‘Because if you’re not, you can stay with Conor.’

Tom wasn’t looking forward to a night in his room, but neither did he want to stay with the Varleys. Paula was a bossy-boots, and Conor was trying too hard to be nice. He told himself that he didn’t have to go near the back kitchen. He didn’t want to go there ever again.

‘I’m fine,’ he said.

‘Good man. Now, I reckon it’s our job to get the dinner today. What do you fancy?’

‘We have liver on Wednesdays.’

‘We might give that one a miss. Why don’t you go down to the butcher’s and buy some steaks?’

‘Mam always says steak’s too expensive.’

‘And most of the time she’s right, but just this once I think steak is called for.’ His dad reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out a five-pound note and handed it to Tom. ‘You’re looking very serious, Tommo. Is anything else on your mind?’