I hadn’t thought it would lead back so quickly. I had to make her believe me, so whatever Busola said, Manus pooing in the street would be more serious than the money. ‘No, really, he sat on the wall and it came out. He said he couldn’t hold it.’

My dad called her from the kitchen. She shook her head at me, ‘Stop telling tales.’

‘He did, he wiped his bum on a newspaper,’ I said. ‘My hands feel dirty.’

‘Now, you’re not making sense, go away.’ And she pushed me off and went down the corridor to the kitchen.

Manus and Connor were upstairs watching the wrestling on telly. I sat with them, watching Mick McManus and Giant Haystacks bang into each other. I was thinking if Busola told on me, she’d have to tell on everyone – but if it was Manus who found out it was me who told on him ... Ouch! Mick McManus had his arm twisted back in a half-nelson, slapping his free hand on the floor, ‘Not the ears, not the ears!’ ... when the door knocked and my mum called out for someone to answer it. Manus and Connor were frozen in the fight so I had to go out slowly backwards to see what happened, which meant Busola got there before me and opened the door to Canon Byrne.

‘Kathleen, is your mammy or daddy at home?’ I was halfway down the stairs trying to turn back and hide but he saw me and peered in, ‘Who’s that? Connor?’

At least he didn’t know who I was, so I nodded.

Busola turned and saw me but her eyes went to my dad coming out the downstairs kitchen along the side of the stairs. ‘Father!’ he said, ‘Come in! Long time no see!’

‘Ah, now, that’s the truth of it,’ Canon Byrne said. ‘And that’s what I’m here about!’ He grinned and they shook hands.

My mum came out, wringing her hands on a cloth, and said, ‘Won’t you come in, Father, for a cup of tea?’

‘No,’ he said, pointing at all the shopping bags in the hall, ‘I can see you’ve your hands full.’

My dad looked up at me, ‘Go on and put the kettle.’

I turned to go upstairs to the kitchen and heard Canon Byrne behind me, ‘Will Connor not be coming to catechism?’

I scrambled up fast, banging my knee on the top stair, which slowed me down as I tried to absorb the ache. ‘We’ve the future Bernadette Mary here,’ he was putting his hand on Busola’s head as I glanced back, ‘doing great things with Sister Anne, but not so much as a glimpse of Connor or ... Manus, is it?’