After break, she led them to the assembly hall. The drapes on the tall windows to the right were drawn, the room lit only by a strip of traffic lights propped on the edge of the stage. A table from the canteen held a turntable, an officer of the Royal Ulster Constabulary, in crested peaked cap and pistachio-coloured shirtsleeves, standing either side of it. The removal of their flak jackets, which were slung over a large beanbag, appeared to be their only concession to the gaiety of the occasion. A glitterball sat on the floor, winking dejectedly. Cushla weaved between the children towards the front of the stage, where Gerry was talking to a third policeman, a man in his thirties with the ruddy, athletic look of one who got a lot of fresh air.

This is Cushla, the other P3 teacher, said Gerry.

Miss Lavery, said the policeman, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. She must have looked surprised because he said, I drink in your family’s bar the odd time.

Oh yeah, said Cushla, although she didn’t remember him. Will you be dancing?

You never know, he said, and smiled as he walked away.

Chatting up peelers, said Gerry. You could be tarred and feathered.

You’re just jealous.

You’re not my type, I keep telling you.

Cheeky get. Come on and see what these kids are at.

As they walked across the boards he caught her hand, pulling her towards him and then releasing her, sending her spinning across the floor. He caught her again and twirled her under his hand.

I can’t dance, she said.

I can see that, but I’m brilliant at it.

Their pupils had surrounded them. Gerry had taken charge of her so completely, she had to do little but let him dance her around the floor. When the song ended, the children cheered.

Jesus Christ, she said, laughing.

Disco Peeler can’t take his eyes off you, he said.

She turned and saw the third policeman climb the steps at the side of the stage. You talk shite, Gerry.

I mean it. He was watching you.

Eamonn was in a good mood. He said he was thinking of booking a band to play in the upstairs lounge they never used any more, like the good old days. The bar had thrived for a couple of years after the Troubles started, drinkers driving out from the city to get away from the chaos. It hadn’t lasted; most people were afraid to go out at all now. The boys were bickering among themselves about the acts they’d like to hear live: Lynyrd Skynyrd for Fidel – he felt an affinity with the Confederate Army – and Doctor Hook and the Medicine Show for Leslie. Minty was torn but eventually settled on Clodagh Rodgers; presumably having the ‘best legs in British show-business’ compensated for the fact that she was a Catholic from Ballymena.