The final hymn ended. She was aware of movement at the front and, after what felt like an age, the coffin was carried down the aisle. A woman’s voice began to sing, a cappella. Cushla focused her gaze on Jimmy O’Kane’s old, shiny jacket, and looked up when she thought Michael had been borne past her, but they had paused for a moment to shift the weight of him. His son was just a couple of feet away. He looked so very young, in his new suit, too young to be carrying his father’s body. They began to move again. Oh dear God, Gina whispered. Joanna Agnew was slung between two women, her legs buckling like a wounded deer. Cushla lowered her head again, trying to keep out the words of the song, the soar of the woman’s voice. She did not dare look up until Gina nudged her, indicating that it was their turn to file out.

A condolence book was open on a table just inside the door. Cushla joined the queue but, when Gina bent to sign her name, slipped outside and stood on the top step. The sun had come out. The crowd was encircling the hearse, Jim and Penny in the midst of it. She watched as the undertakers pushed a trolley bearing the coffin to the open door of the flower-filled vehicle. Dermot Agnew was slightly to the side, his mother clinging to him. You OK? said Eamonn.

Before Cushla could answer, Gina appeared and said, Right. We’ll pay our respects.

No! said Eamonn and Cushla in unison.

The boys had come out and were standing solemnly in front of them. Awful sad, said Minty.

Aye. He was a gent, said Fidel, sparking a cigarette.

Leslie – sober – said nothing.

Jimmy was looking at Cushla as if he was about to say something. She thought of the moment in Ryan’s Daughter when the local halfwit made an exhibition of Rosy Ryan on the street, and it dawned on all the villagers that she’d been sleeping with the British soldier. She linked her mother’s arm and guided her down the steps towards the road. Eamonn had parked a couple of hundred yards away. They were walking against the sun and she wished she had brought her sunglasses. The Capri was under a horse chestnut tree that was growing up through the pavement. When her eyes adjusted to the shade, she saw that Victor’s MG was in front of Eamonn’s. She looked back towards the church. Jane and Victor were approaching. Jane began speaking urgently to Victor, who raised his eyes to Cushla’s. A look of contempt on his face. She took a step towards them, but felt Eamonn’s hand on her arm. I need to talk to them, she said, trying to shrug him off.

The fuck you do, he said.

Let me go! she said, surprised at how loud she sounded.