honey. But she could buy two bags of Haribo and two Twirls every week for the next year.’
‘That’s all?’
‘But that’s lots! That would make her very happy.’
‘Well, sure. Maybe we could have a play-date.’
And maybe not. Jessie had been charmed by the idea of Dilly’s communion money helping another kid. But even the nicest-seeming people were weird about hanging out with asylum-seekers. ‘In the envelope is a letter from her, telling you about her life. You could read it if you like.’
‘Okay. I will. Ferdia!’ Her half-brother was passing. ‘Ferdia, can I show you my exciting thing?’
‘’Kay.’ He knelt while Dilly filled him in.
‘So there’s this little girl from … What country, Nell?’
‘Syria.’
Tripping over her words, Dilly explained everything.
‘Whose idea was this?’ Ferdia sounded concerned. Slightly angry, almost.
‘Mine,’ Liam said. ‘Mine and Nell’s. Both of us.’ There was a belligerent edge to his voice.
‘Really?’
‘It’s a cool idea.’ Anxiety had risen in Nell. Things had been going so well. This fool had better not derail it. ‘Dilly is happy for it, because she’s a generous, thoughtful person.’
‘Okay.’ The fire in Ferdia’s eyes had died down. ‘Yeah, well …’ As if realizing he couldn’t fault the plan in any way, he said, his tone reluctant, ‘So that’s … yeah, great. Fair play, Dilly.’
‘Chocolate fountain!’ Dilly cried, clambering to her feet and racing across the garden. Ferdia followed.
‘What is his problem?’ Nell demanded.
‘Over-indulged brat.’
‘It’s like he thinks he’s the only woke one round here.’
Quietly Liam said, ‘“Could she buy a house?”’
Instantly Nell’s mood lifted. ‘I know! I thought I was going to lose it when she said that.’
‘We did a good thing.’
She clasped his hand. Gratitude washed through her, so much that she felt almost high. ‘Thank you for this.’
TWENTY-NINE
Daddy, when is the chocolate fountain starting?
Johnny, get Liam a beer.
Dad, Camilla needs to do a poo.
Johnny, get Raphaela some rosé.
Buddy, where’s your jacks?
Johnny, give your phone to Bridey.
Dad, Camilla’s done a poo in the doll’s house.
The afternoon had passed in constant motion, attending to the needs of others, until, in an unexpected lull, nobody was looking for anything and Johnny was almost felled by sudden exhaustion.
He made his way to the garden table and gratefully lowered himself to the bench. He felt about a hundred and twenty.
It never stopped. It. Just. Never. Stopped.
Shrieking kids were running around the grass that he’d never got the chance to cut. Adults were swigging energetically, crossing to and from the kitchen – probably for more alcohol, God, you could never really get enough on an afternoon like this – and darting around the garden, irritably admonishing their charges for bad behaviour.
He took a long swallow from his beer bottle.
It had been a hard week. The trade fair in Frankfurt, those days were so long. Four meetings an hour, twelve hours a day. For three days. Pitch after pitch from one food supplier after another. Having to make decisions on the spot. Should he order four crates? Or seven thousand? By the end of the first morning his brain had turned to noodles.
But this week hadn’t been exceptional: every week was hard.
There went Jessie again, striding with purpose. There was something about her that was giving him that fearful feeling … Through exhausted eyes he watched her. It was the shoes. White pointy things that he’d never seen before. Momentarily, he was impressed by how she avoided sinking into the grass in the skinny heels – pure strength of will.
Then the fearful feeling returned. There was some story attached to those shoes. Not a good one. He could check but, right now, he didn’t want to know.
All he wanted was a peaceful day, maybe a rainy Sunday afternoon on the couch, watching a black-and-white film, the kids and Jessie slumped sleepily beside him, ice-cream cartons and spoons on the table. There was a yearning in him, for – yeah – a holiday. Not one of their usual action-packed ones, but an actual rest, of sleeping and silence. Jessie often talked dreamily about a restorative break at a spa. It wouldn’t be for him – he was scared to have a massage in case he got an erection – but there were men’s retreats, surely …
Except he suspected that that would probably involve chopping down trees to build his own shelter, which sounded even more stressful.
Oh Christ, here came Jessie, looking like she had a job for him. If Camilla had done another poo, he was just going to get into his car and drive to Rosslare, board the