In the gate-lodge kitchen Tom’s mother was darning a vest, with the lamp drawn close to where she sat. He could tell at once that she was cross, even though she didn’t say anything. He could tell she was thinking she wouldn’t have let him go if she’d known he’d be out so late.

‘You should have come!’ he exclaimed, unable to disperse his excitement. ‘You never saw the like of it.’

But when she spoke it was to tell him to go in to bed. ‘Hurry and wash yourself now.’

He washed at the sink. All the time he wanted to tell her about Mr Coyne and Mr O’Hagan, how he’d had biscuits and two bottles of lemonade, how Mr Coyne had given him a ha’penny to throw down for the Zodiacs. He even wanted to tell her the story Holy Mullihan had passed on to him, how St Francis of Sales had appeared in a field.

‘Goodnight so,’ he said.

I’ll come in in a minute.’

He took the lamp she’d lit for him while he’d been washing himself, and in the bedroom he shared with her he took his clothes off and got into bed. Before she came to bed herself she would fold across the shutters to keep the draught out. When it rained the water oozed in at the window and dripped off the windowsill, whether the shutters were drawn or not. She said it was unhealthy.

He said his prayers as he lay there, although he knew he should have knelt by the bed the way she liked him to, the way she did herself. Then he thought again about the knives flashing through the air and the woman’s naked legs and arms, and the things the man had said. When he’d been standing on the quays with Holy Mullihan he’d heard other girls screaming and he’d guessed that the man was putting the scarf over his eyes.

‘Goodnight so, Tom.’

She asked him if he’d said his prayers and then she took the glass off the lamp and blew the flame out. Her own lamp cast her shadow on to the wall, making her much bigger than she was.

I’m glad you enjoyed it, Tom.’

‘When she kissed him he knew her crossness had gone. His cheek retained the soft impression of her lips and he could feel her saying to him that it wasn’t he who had caused the crossness, although in fact she didn’t say anything. He knew it wasn’t even Haverty who had caused it, by making them late. When he’d asked her once she’d said the crossness came and went, caused by nothing at all.