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placed against Him as He floated. Her face was turned to heaven and exuded a love that Michael had tried to imitate.
    Owen made a noise. Michael looked down at him, and as he stared at him the boy’s eyes opened. He wrinkled his nose.
    â€˜Hiya,’ he said.

Four
    Too tired to travel further, they stayed that night in the first hotel they came to in Stranraer. The man who had stared at them also checked in and, because they had travelled on the same boat, the man took the liberty of speaking to Michael.
    â€˜A nice crossing.’
    â€˜Yes, indeed.’
    Michael was sitting in the small quiet bar before having a meal. Owen was outside wandering in the garden. The man arranged himself in a chair beside Michael.
    â€˜On holiday?’ he asked.
    â€˜Yes.’
    Michael was fascinated by his eyelids. He had never seen anything like them before. They looked as if they were oiled, two domes set beneath his eyebrows. His presence made him feel uneasy.
    â€˜Was that your boy with you today?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Michael.
    â€˜A good-looking boy.’
    The man’s voice was light and his cadences had the tinge of a woman in them. Michael wanted to get up and go but he didn’t want to offend. The man introduced himself. He reached out his hand and shook Michael’s. His hand lingered too long and made Michael’s skin crawl.
    â€˜My name’s Lamb, Michael Lamb. How do you do?’
    Michael wondered if he should have given a different name but it was too late now.
    â€˜What do you do for a living?’ the man asked.
    â€˜I’m a joiner by trade.’
    â€˜You look strong enough for it, anyway.’
    Just then Owen came in through the door, followed by a waitress. His voice was excited.
    â€˜Tea’s ready, Brother,’ he said.
    Michael got up and gave him a withering look. At table he said in a whisper,
    â€˜I’d just told that guy you were my son and you come in blabbing your mouth off all over the place, “Tea’s ready, Brother”. Brother! When the news gets out it’ll not take him long to figure out who we are.’
    Owen was hurt at being told off and ate in silence. Rather than meet the man again they went to their room for what was left of the evening.
    The next morning at the train Michael was left carrying the bag while Owen rushed on ahead to get a window seat. They sat in the silence of the stopped train opposite one another and smiled.
    â€˜So far so good,’ said Michael.
    The carriage window faced a cement gable covered in graffiti, spray paint of different colours, chalk, gloss white which had run with a fringe of icicles. It had begun to rain, darkening the top half of the gable. Spits of rain quivered on the window pane.
    â€˜How do you like England?’ Michael asked the boy.
    â€˜O.K. Anyway it’s Scotland.’
    â€˜What’s the farthest you’ve been from Dublin?’
    The boy thought.
    â€˜I dunno. I think I was in Skerries once.’
    Michael opened a can of Coke for him with a small explosion. The brown liquid frothed up and Owen put his mouth over the hole, sucking in the foam.
    The gable wall moved and they were away. The countryside was grey-green in the rain. The drops now slashed horizontally across the window with the speed of the train. They did not speak except to say the names of the various stations they passed through. They had to go north to Glasgow, then as they moved south the sky cleared and the rain stopped. Owen found an ash tray at his elbow and began to click the flap up and down. He looked inside the aluminium lid, then flicked it louder and louder.
    â€˜Knock it off,’ said Michael. The boy stopped.
    â€˜Any fags?’ he asked.
    The train stopped at Carlisle. Michael seemed annoyed. He leaned forward in his seat and spoke to the boy in a tight whisper.
    â€˜Look, how many times do I have to tell you? Not in public.’
    His voice died away when a man, grunting