My nose itches. Shit, I’m going to sneeze, he’ll know I’m here. Holding my nostrils tightly, I almost choke trying not to make a noise. Water fills my eyes blurring my vision so I wipe them on the sleeves of my pyjamas and wait. What are you at, Kenny McCarthy?

He takes one last glance up the stairs before pushing the alarm code, which I’m surprised he knows. Then he opens the door.

Shuffling across the wooden floorboards I move to the window to continue my observation of the boy. I don’t hear the front door closing. Is he leaving it open? The little shit. He’s going to head off and leave us at the mercy of the criminals. Jesus, I’ll have to do something now.

The gap in the curtains allows me to watch his shape move like a black shadow under the street light. His movements are slow, gentle, like a dancer. When he gets to the end of the garden he stops beside the black and green bins at the wall. Kenny lifts the lid on the black bin, then the green bin. But he doesn’t leave the black bag there. He looks around making sure no one is watching him. He glances back at our house before stepping into Rena’s garden where her bin stands behind the pillar.

Kenny drops the black plastic bag inside. He rummages around as if trying to cover the package up. What is Kenny McCarthy trying to hide?

With his hands stuck in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, he comes back into the house. Does he wait now for someone to come and pick up the package or is that his part done?

Beep, beep, beep, beep. The alarm is set. He’s back in his room. What will I do? Wake Tom. No, I’ll wait and see if someone comes to pick it up first. Sitting on the armchair by the window, I widen the gap between the curtains… and fall asleep.

‘Mammy, Mammy.’ Aaron is climbing all over me. My head is woozy, what happened? I know something happened. Kenny, the bin, the drugs, it all comes flooding back to me.

With Aaron in my arms I pull the curtain open. I probably missed the pick-up. I’ll tell Tom, he can confront him, there is no way Kenny can stay in the house now. Drugs and kids, not a chance. Saoirse O’Neill will have to refer to her manual and come up with another solution. Jail maybe.

Aaron runs barefoot ahead of me into the kitchen. I can hear Cian’s patters across the floor above my head. The world is stirring. Today has arrived.