Davy unpacked the bags. When he saw something he liked, he held it up to show the others. Are you better in yourself, Mrs Lavery? he said, waving a packet of pink wafer biscuits. Gina pursed her lips and began buttering a stack of bread. Cushla had to suck in her cheeks to keep from laughing. Tommy, Mandy and Davy sat down to eat. Gina stood over them, ordering them to have second helpings, teasing them for not eating their crusts. Cushla sometimes thought Gina overbearing in company, but this evening she was grateful to her.

Cushla gave Tommy her phone number. He wrote it in a small black notebook that he took from his back pocket. He stood in the hall to see them out, looking beyond them at the teenagers she had seen surround him, who were now sitting on their wall. One of the boys was striking matches and flicking them on to the path.

Fuck this, Tommy said and took a step towards the door.

Gina caught his arm. You’ll go back inside, she said.

They’ve come to taunt us, Tommy said, tears springing into his eyes.

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.