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I’m only goin’ to wear them for a day.’
    ‘They won’t go to waste, luv. Every man should have some good gear to wear.’ The word ‘man’ had just slipped out but Mark noticed it and was very proud. Agnes stood up and began to clear off the table.
    ‘Leave those, Ma,’ Mark said. ‘I’ll do them. You go on to the bingo.’
    ‘Ah, you’re a sweetheart, luv.’
    Agnes gathered her cigarettes and dropped them into her bingo bag, put on her coat, kissed all the children goodbye and left for the bingo.
    When Rory arrived home at eight forty-five the heat under his dinner had been turned off for an hour. He had a hard job taking the lid off as it was stuck to the plate, the mashed potatoes had gone crispy and with the grease dry, the rashers now looked white.
    ‘Ah, Jaysus, me dinner’s in shite!’ he exclaimed.
    Mark got up from the kitchen table where he was studying for his test and snapped the plate out of Rory’s hand. ‘It just needs to be heated. Here, give it to me.’
    He opened the oven door, placed the plate in the rack, and using the flint spark-maker clicked the oven into life. He closed the door and stood up. ‘Now! Just give it a couple of minutes in there and it’ll be grand.’ He went back to his books.
    Rory sat down on a chair beside him. ‘Oh Mark, me nerves!’ Rory said, but in such a way that meant he wanted to tell a story.
    Mark closed his book and placed his pencil on the table. ‘Why, what’s wrong with yeh?’
    ‘I got ... I got chased home from work. I’m sweatin’, and me legs are weak.‘
    ‘What ? Chased? By who?’
    ‘Skinheads. There was about ten of them. I was rattlin’, Mark, yeh should have seen me. I was like Ronnie Delaney comin’ up St Jarlath’s Street.‘
    Mark was now paying great attention. Brownes don’t get chased. ‘Were they from here? From The Jarro?’
    ‘I don’t know - what d’yeh think I did, stopped and said can I have all your names please before I fuckin’ run?‘
    ‘Take it easy. I mean, did you recognise any of them?’
    ‘Mark, wait till I tell yeh — they were chasin’ me , I wasn’t chasin’ them. D’yeh think I have eyes in the back of me head?‘
    ‘Okay! Just tell me where did they start chasin’ yeh from?’
    ‘Right outside Wash & Blow. I think they were waitin’ for me.’
    Rory got up and took a tea-towel and opened the door of the oven. Gingerly he took out the plate. ‘Jesus, it’s roastin’!‘ he yelped.
    ‘Switch off that oven and close the door,’ Mark ordered. But he wasn’t thinking about the oven; he was thinking about a gang of skinheads chasing his younger brother. This wasn’t on, not on at all.
    Rory cut up the first of his rashers and held his hand in mid-air for Mark to see. ‘Look, Mark, I’m shakin’.‘

     
    If Rory was shaking, not far away in St Francis Xavier Hall at that very moment his mother Agnes was positively vibrating.
    Top of the house - ninety.‘
    There was a tremor in Agnes’s voice as she made the announcement to the group. ‘That’s it! I have a wait!’
    ‘I don’t believe yeh! What is it?’ asked Carmel.
    ‘Believe it or not, it’s number seven.’ Agnes sounded exasperated.
    ‘Again? Jaysus!’ groaned Nelly.
    ‘I must be goin’ to win again so,’ Bunnie said rather chirpily.
    ‘One and four — fourteen.’
    ‘There’s still a good six or seven calls to go yet, Agnes.’ Carmel nudged her in the ribs.
    ‘On its own - number seven!’
    It was hard to tell at first who had actually won. Nelly, Carmel, Splish, Splash, Agnes and even Bunnie simultaneously rose to their feet and screamed ‘Check!’ Slightly behind Agnes and over to the left-hand side of the hall, a similar thing was taking place as another group of four or five also screamed ‘Check!’
    Pat Muldoon switched off his ball machine and announced, ‘We seem to have a number of checks in the hall. Would everybody except the checkers please sit down and would the checkers please hold their