He was nervous about going on to the Brothers, but one good thing was that by the time he got there Holy Mullihan would have left. They usually went away altogether when they were going to become priests; Holy Mullihan mightn’t even be about the streets any more. Cathal Lenihan, who was the same age as Tom, couldn’t make up his mind whether he was called for the priesthood or the Brothers. ‘Well, what are ye all going to be?’ Father Pierce had asked one day when he came in to hear the catechism, and Cathal Lenihan had explained his dilemma. ‘The Christian Brothers are a fine body of men,’ Father Pierce had said, and added jokingly: ‘We won’t comment on the priests.’ Two girls had put up their hands when he asked if there was any girl present who was aiming to be a nun, and he said that was great. Then Derek Birthistle said he was going into Burke’s the auctioneers like his father, and Cluck Walsh that he was all set for America. ‘There’s a lot of us in America,’ Father Pierce commented. ‘You won’t lack for companions, Cluck.’ He mentioned the man who had given the town the piece of land for recreation purposes after he’d become a candy king in San Francisco. There was many a story of a poor Irish boy ending up in some city like San Francisco, or New York or Chicago. ‘Don’t forget us in that case,’ he said to Cluck Walsh, and everyone laughed because they knew Cluck Walsh wouldn’t get more than a yard out of the town.

‘There’s people might mention it to you,’ Tom’s mother said, not turning round from the range, ‘about the bridge. And maybe about how your father and myself were a week off getting married. Take no notice of that talk, Tom.’

He might have told her about Holy Mullihan when she said that. He might have told her that sometimes the girls on the ferryboat looked at him interestedly, that Sister Sullivan always looked at him as if he’d done something wrong, that he felt Brother Meagher didn’t like him. Father Pierce had once stopped specially when he saw him, on the street outside Barry’s. ‘You’ve more prayers to say than others, Tom,’ was what the priest had said. ‘But I wouldn’t agree that was a bad thing. Never object to getting down on your knees, Tom.’

‘I’ll take no notice,’ he promised his mother, not knowing why he pretended no one had ever said anything at all. He’d never even mentioned Holy Mullihan to her.