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headmaster, Mr Merryville, say to Mr Thorpe:
‘As most of the building repairs are complete, there is a possibility that the trip to Colomendy will go ahead after all
.’
    Po-ssi-bil-it-y.
I count the beats on my hand. The picture that comes into my head is of a five domino. I say the word out loud, five times. Try it out as the fifth word in a sentence.
I think there’s a possibility it could rain rabbits.
Ha!
    Back inside the cabinet, neatly folded, is one of my mum’s big bandages. I open it up, there are two thin loops either end. I place it on my head, where my fringe starts, then curl the loops around my ears. I twirl and twirl, start to sing:
    â€˜
On the mountain stands a lady, who she is I do not know …’
    I don’t hear the front door closing. I can’t smell the ale on them yet. Don’t see their eyes deciding whether or not to tell me off.
    â€˜Well, well, look at you. Aren’t you the belle of the ball?’
    I scream, holding my chest. When I turn around my face burns.
    â€˜Don’t tell my mum.’
    They look at each other. Burst out laughing.
    â€˜What is that on your head, Robyn?’ Nellie asks.
    â€˜A hairband; I made it.’
    â€˜Of course it is. Come over here.’ My nose is squashed against Nan’s shaking chest as she unhooks it. ‘Take no notice of us, we’re way behind with the mysteries of fashion. Get washed now and back into your pyjamas. I’ve just seen your mam and him in the Stanley. They’ll be back soon.’
    Nellie fishes about in her pockets and shakes her head at me. ‘You’re a peculiar one all right,’ she says. ‘Here, take this slummy and buy yourself a real hairband.’
    I don’t take her money. She says she’ll leave it on the mantelpiece for me.
    â€˜Where are the boxes, May?’
    â€˜What boxes?’ I say.
    â€˜You’d better hurry and get changed. They’ll be back any minute.’
    I get changed fast; wash my face in the bathroom sink. Tidy all Mum’s stuff before they get back.
    Chris knocks, asking for the door key off Nellie. I let him in, watch him pick up Granddad Jack’s photograph. ‘We had a time of it me and you,’ he says. Chris’s face is red. He sways like he’s on a boat, calls me in from the doorway with his head. He talks at the picture.
    â€˜Worked together me and Jack, blacksmiths.’ He flops down in the chair, coins jingling inside pockets. I sit on the couch; Nan and Nellie are laughing in the kitchen. I hear the crick crackles of the chip pan heating up.
    He shakes his head. ‘Still can’t believe he’s gone.’ He puts up his fists and punches the air. ‘One of the best, his dad, his name, it’ll come. Trained him in a barn in Crosby … trained him with the little bit he knew. If Jack Crown punched you, it felt like, like Thor’s hammer had landed.’
    He hiccups, pulls out a cigarette from behind his ear, lights it, throws the match into the dead fire.
    â€˜Did you see him fight?’
    â€˜Only missed one; Nellie went into labour with our Mary. Sammy Garrison he fought.’
    He takes a long pull on his cigarette, index finger smudged yellow like his hair.
    â€˜I saw him in his best fight. Hundreds had tickets but got locked out.’ He smiles into the other side of his eyes. Punches air. Ash drops into the shiny turn-up on his trousers. ‘Come on, Jack, finish him, that’s it give him a taste of Thor’s hammer.’
    I want to turn his eyes inside out. See what he sees.
    â€˜Tell me what you see.’
    He opens his eyes. ‘Eh?’
    â€˜What can you see? Tell me.’
    He stands. ‘Remember, Jack was a welterweight, but quick, quick, like this.’ He sniffs. Fists tucked under his chin. Weaves his head from side to side, up and down, like a window cleaner’s rag.
    The kitchen door opens. Nan brings us a plate of chips and two