They arrived ten minutes early but the road leading to the church and the car park attached to it were packed. Gina was swearing softly. Eamonn told them to get out while he found a space. Cushla helped her mother from the front seat – not that Gina needed it, but she was holding her arm out limply as if she required physical support. Cushla was glad of the fuss, terrified to turn and find she was being stared at by someone who recognised her. She needn’t have worried; everyone else appeared to be inside.

Fidel, Minty and Leslie were in the back pew. They had dressed for a funeral, towelling T-shirts and Glentoran jerseys swapped for out-of-fashion suits and kipper ties. They shoved along to make room for Gina and Cushla. Jimmy was two rows ahead. A choir began to sing a hymn. Cushla glanced over her shoulder. Eamonn was by the door. He looked hard at her and she twisted back around, drawing her hair across her face.

Beside her, Gina had begun a running commentary. Lovely flowers on the altar. Church of Ireland, not as bad as them Press Button Bs (Presbyterians). Cushla told her to shut up; Fidel, Minty and Leslie were Press Button Bs. There were copies of the Book of Common Prayer lined on the ledge in front. Cushla picked one up and flipped through the pages. There was nothing in the proceedings she could connect to Michael. She had presumed he was not a churchgoer, but what did she really know about him? On Sunday mornings, she left his flat early so she could bring Gina to Mass; maybe he went home and brought his wife to Sunday service. Yet she could not picture him here, among this clear-eyed, good-living congregation, singing psalms and hymns.

But then the minister began to speak of Michael. The rugby he played as a youth, his selection for Ireland Schoolboys, a promising career cut short by injury. His academic record, his passion for the arts. His lifelong commitment to equality and justice. His pride in his son Dermot. Cushla knew what was coming and could not prevent herself from raising her chin in time to see him turn slightly, to address his next line to the front pew: the great love he had for his wife, Joanna. Cushla was aware of someone at her back and glanced over her shoulder. Eamonn had stepped forward and was now directly behind her.