Afterwards there was a party in the school canteen. At the far end, tables had been pushed together and were laid with tall stainless-steel pots of tea, stacks of cups inverted on saucers, plates of buns and sandwiches. The room smelled of salad cream and cake. Gina went around pressing a 50p coin into the hand of every child in a suit or white dress. She left Davy until last, crossing the room to hand him an envelope. He opened it and took out a fiver. For a moment he forgot himself and tugged at the edges of the note with both hands as if he was checking its authenticity. Betty pulled him to her and spoke into his ear. He stopped his capering and stood solemnly in front of Gina to thank her. Gina ruffled his hair, oblivious to the colour on Betty’s cheeks. The gift was extravagant. Embarrassing.

Cushla joined them, remembering not to offer Seamie her hand. She watched him reach slowly for a teacup on the table. Much as they repelled her she could not help looking at his scars. The wounds had closed, but the new skin was thin and bubblegum pink. His hand moved vaguely around the handle and there was almost audible relief from his family when his thumb and finger made contact with the delft.

Tommy went to the buffet table with Mandy and Davy.

Did Tommy ever go back to school? said Cushla.

He has a labouring job with his uncle.

That’s great.

Great? said Betty, her voice sharp with anger. That wee lad has brains to burn.

Maybe he’ll go back some day, said Cushla. Do a night course or something.

Betty was looking across the room at her children. She glanced at Cushla. Maybe he will, she said, her voice lowered to its usual pitch.

She’s afraid of me, thought Cushla.

Gina had asked Gerry Devlin to the house for dinner. He arrived at five and presented Gina with a box of Terry’s All Gold. She gave him a beer from the fridge and made a show of seating him in Cushla’s father’s chair. He sat, smiling, unaware of the compliment he was being paid.

Something smells good, he said.