I know, love. But there’s not a bloody thing you can do about it. Now get in and mind your brother and sister.

Tommy dragged his knuckles across his cheeks and nodded. Cushla and her mother walked down the path to the click of locks and bolts. As they reached the car, a match landed on the ground an inch from Gina’s foot and one of the teenagers said something they couldn’t hear that sent the others into titters. Gina shoved the empty pot into Cushla’s arms and strode towards them. Take yourselves off, she said.

It’s a free country, one of the girls said.

Now, said Gina. Their faces were close, each waiting for the other to back down, and their hair was the same shade. After an interminable minute, the girl slid off the wall and the rest sauntered after her.

Cheeky wee bitch, said Gina when she was in the passenger seat. A free country, indeed. It’s a bigoted hole.

You shouldn’t have gone near them.

Intimidation, that’s what it is.

Cushla looked back at the house. Davy was at the window, the net curtain behind him. Tommy’s arm appeared briefly, pulling him away.

Cushla’s three-point turn became five, and they left the close to the sound of mirthless laughter. Gina reached for the handle to open the window.

Christ, Mummy. The McGeowns have to live here.

They have nobody.

What do you mean?

The girl in the hairdresser’s said the mother’s a Prod.

I know that. Slattery and Bradley don’t like her for not coming to Mass.

Well, as far as the ones round here are concerned she’s worse than a Catholic for marrying one. And her family don’t speak to her.

In the house, Cushla didn’t object when Gina poured herself a gin and turned up the volume on the radio news. Davy’s father’s attack had been downgraded to an assault and was the second item, after a fatal shooting. Getting hacked to bits doesn’t get you the top slot, said Gina. What sort of hellhole are we living in?

The phone began to ring. Cushla went to the hall to answer it. The sound of coins dropping. Hello? she said.

It’s Michael. I’m in a phone box, he said, as though this was the most surprising thing that had ever happened to him. Would you like to know what else is in the phone box?

A feeling of ease was washing through her body. I’m afraid you’re going to tell me anyway, she said.

Several chips in an alarming shade of yellow. A beer can printed with the image of a young lady called Cheryl who has an implausibly large bosom. A pale slimy thing which I won’t examine closely, as I fear it is a used prophylactic. He paused and said, I’ll be passing your door in two minutes. I could pick you up.

She looked towards the kitchen. Gina was trotting across the tiles in the direction of the gin bottle. OK, said Cushla.