“Why…? I wouldn’t’ve thought you’d care.”

“You mean, why do I care about anything that happened around here, when I couldn’t be arsed coming back for twenty-odd years?”

She was still gazing at me, worried and bewildered. The moon had come out; in the cold half-light the garden looked pristine and unreal, like some symmetrical suburban limbo. I said, “Nora, tell me something. Do you think I’m a murderer?”

It scared me shitless, how badly I wanted her to say no. That was when I knew I should get up and leave-I already had everything she could give me, every extra second was a bad idea. Nora said, simply and matter-offactly, “No. I never did.”

Something twisted inside me. I said, “Apparently a lot of people do.”

She shook her head. “Once, when I was just a wee little young one-five or six, maybe-I had one of Sallie Hearne’s cat’s kittens out in the street to play with, and a bunch of big fellas came along and took it away, to tease me. They were throwing it back and forth, and I was screaming… Then you came and made them stop: got the kitten for me, told me to take it back to Hearne’s. You wouldn’t remember.”

“I do, yeah,” I said. The wordless plea in her eyes: she needed the two of us to share that memory, and of all the things she needed that was the only tiny one I could give. “Of course I remember.”

“Someone who’d do that, I can’t see him hurting anyone; not on purpose. Maybe I’m just stupid.”

That twist again, more painful. “Not stupid,” I said. “Just sweet. The sweetest thing.”

In that light she looked like a girl, like a ghost, she looked like a breath-taking black-and-white Rosie escaped for one thin slice of time from a flickering old film or a dream. I knew if I touched her she would vanish, turn back into Nora in the blink of an eye and be gone for good. The smile on her lips could have pulled my heart out of my chest.

I touched her hair, only, with the tips of my fingers. Her breath was quick and warm against the inside of my wrist. “Where have you been?” I said softly, close to her mouth. “Where have you been all this time?”

We clutched at each other like wild lost kids, on fire and desperate. My hands knew the soft hot curves of her hips by heart, their shape rose up to meet me from some fathoms-deep place in my mind that I had thought was lost forever. I don’t know who she was looking for; she kissed me hard enough that I tasted blood. She smelled like vanilla. Rosie used to smell of lemon drops and sun and the airy solvent they used in the factory to clean stains off the cloth. I dug my fingers deep into Nora’s rich curls and felt her breasts heave against my chest, so that for a second I thought she was crying.

She was the one who broke away. She was crimson-cheeked and breathing hard, pulling down her jumper. She said, “I’ve to go in now.”

I said, “Stay,” and took hold of her again.

For a second I swear she thought about it. Then she shook her head and detached my hands from her waist. She said, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Rosie would have stayed. I almost said it; I would have, if I had thought there was a chance it would do me any good. Instead I leaned back on the bench, took a deep breath and felt my heart start to slow down. Then I turned Nora’s hand over and kissed her palm. “So am I,” I said. “Thank you for coming out to me. Now go inside, before you have me driven mad. Sweet dreams.”

Her hair was tumbled and her lips were full and tender from kissing. She said, “Safe home, Francis.” Then she stood up and walked back up the garden, pulling her coat around her.

She slipped into the house and closed the door behind her without once looking back. I sat there on the bench, watching her silhouette move in the lamplight behind her bedroom curtain, till my knees stopped shaking and I could climb over the walls and head for home.

17

The answering machine had a message from Jackie, asking me to give her a ring: “Nothing important, now. Just… ah, you know yourself. Bye.” She sounded drained and older than I had ever heard her. I was wrecked enough myself that a part of me was actually scared to leave it overnight, given what had happened when I ignored Kevin’s messages, but it was some ungodly hour of the morning; the phone would have given her and Gavin matching heart attacks. I went to bed. When I pulled off my jumper I could still smell Nora’s hair on the collar.

Wednesday morning I woke up late, around ten, feeling several notches more exhausted than I had the night before. It had been a few years since I’d been in top-level pain, mental or physical. I had forgotten just how much it takes out of you. I stripped off a layer or two of brain fluff with cold water and black coffee, and phoned Jackie.

“Ah, howya, Francis.”

Her voice still had that dulled note, even heavier. Even if I’d had the time or the energy to tackle her about Holly, I wouldn’t have had the heart. “Howya, honeybunch. I just got your message.”

“Oh… yeah. I thought afterwards, maybe I shouldn’t have… I didn’t want to give you a fright, like. Make you think anything else had happened. I just wanted… I don’t know. To see how you were getting on.”

I said, “I know I headed off early, Monday night. I should have stuck around.”

“Maybe, yeah. Sure, it’s done now. There was no more drama, anyway: everyone had more drink, everyone sang a while longer, everyone went home.”

There was a thick layer of background noise going on: chitchat, Girls Aloud and a hair dryer. I said, “Are you at work?”

“Ah, sure. Why not. Gav couldn’t take another day off, and I didn’t fancy hanging about the flat on my own… Anyway, if you and Shay are right about the state of the country, I’d better keep my regulars happy, wha’?” It was meant as a joke, but she didn’t have the energy to put a bounce on it.

“Don’t push yourself, sweetheart. If you’re wrecked, go home. I’d say your regulars wouldn’t leave you for love or money.”

“You never know, do you? Ah, no, I’m grand. Everyone’s being lovely; they’re bringing me cups of tea and letting me have a smoke break whenever I need one. I’m better off here. Where are you? Are you not in work?”

“Taking a few days off.”

“That’s good, Francis. You work too hard, sure. Do something nice for yourself. Bring Holly somewhere.”

I said, “Actually, while I’ve got the free time, I’d love a chance to have a chat with Ma. On our own, without Da around. Is there a good time of day for that? Like, does he go out to the shops, or to the pub?”

“Most days he does, yeah. But…” I could hear the effort she was putting into trying to focus. “He was having a terrible time with his back, yesterday. Today as well, I’d say. He could hardly get out of the bed. When his back does be at him, he mostly just has a sleep.” Translation: some doctor gave him the good pills, Da topped up with floorboard vodka, he was out for the foreseeable. “Mammy’ll be there all day, till Shay gets home anyway, in case he needs anything. Call over to her; she’ll be delighted to see you.”

I said, “I’ll do that. You tell that Gav to take good care of you, OK?”

“He’s been brilliant, so he has, I don’t know what I’d do without him… Come here, d’you want to call round to us this evening? Have a bit of dinner with us, maybe?”

Fish and chips with pity sauce: sounded tasty. “I’ve got plans,” I said. “But thanks, hon. Maybe some other time. You’d better get back to work before someone’s highlights turn green.”

Jackie tried obligingly to laugh, but it fell flat. “Yeah, I probably had. Mind yourself, Francis. Say howya to Mammy for me.” And she was gone, back into the fog of hair-dryer noise and chatter and cups of sweet tea.

Jackie was right: when I rang the buzzer, Ma came down to the hall door. She looked exhausted too, and she had lost weight since Saturday: at least one belly was missing. She eyed me for a moment, deciding which way to go. Then she snapped, “Your da’s asleep. Come on into the kitchen and don’t be making noise.” She turned around and stumped painfully back up the stairs. Her hair needed setting.