‘Don’t think you can go pushing past me in the middle of the day and I won’t stop you.’

‘Oh, piss off, you!’ he said.

‘Where are you going?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Barry? Why in God’s name aren’t you at school at this time of day?’

‘I told you – it’s none of your fucking business.’

‘Well, see if I don’t make it my business, Barry. What have you done this time?’

A light rain filled the air like a cold mist gathering round them.

‘Come on, Barry – out with it,’ she said.

‘They’ve sent me home.’

‘Why?’ But she couldn’t make out his response. ‘What?’ she asked.

‘I called Mrs Frawley an old wagon,’ he shouted.

‘And they sent you home for that?’

He bucked his head.

‘I’d say there’s a bit more to it than that, Barry. I’d say you have their heart broke out there. And why if you’ve been sent home are you not heading in that direction?’

She knew that he was probably headed for the lane beside the chip shop where the boys went to smoke at lunchtime.

‘I can’t go home,’ he said.

‘Why not?’

‘I need a lift.’

‘Are you too scared to go out to the factory and ask your father for one?’

‘Master O’Connor said he’s going to expel me,’ he said.

‘Well, Barry,’ she said. ‘I think we need to go and have a chat with Master O’Connor about that. Come on.’

She strode away from him along the footpath, Barry’s voice calling after her and growing faint. She stopped and turned. ‘Come on now, Barry. You may as well follow me because if you don’t, I’ll do it on my own,’ she said, and continued on her way, past the newsagent’s and past the Ulster Bank.

‘But what are you going to do?’ Barry asked.

She could hear him shuffling along behind her.

‘What are you going to say?’ he pleaded. ‘He’s not going to listen to you.’

‘We’ll see about that.’

They were meeting other students from the school now coming in the opposite direction, heading into the town for lunch. One lad stuck his head out of the group he was filing along with and shouted, ‘Where the fuck are you going, Crowley, I thought you were turfed out?’

Barry was tripping along beside her. ‘Ah please, calm down. Don’t do that. I’ll go and talk to my father. He’ll talk to Master O’Connor. Please.’

‘Sure, it won’t do any harm for me to have a chat to him in the meantime.’

They’d reached the main road leading into the town. Huge fish lorries swept past them, their tyres raising a thin spray from the wet ground.

‘But what are you going to say to him?’ Barry asked.

‘Well, Barry, we need to get this straight – do you want to be at school?’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Yeah,’ he said.

‘’Cause you probably think you don’t need it – that you’ll always be OK, that your father will look after you, that he’ll sort you out with a job. But you’ll not be much use to anyone without some qualification. And if you want to spend the rest of your life stuck in this town, you’re going the right way about it. So are you sure that you want to be at school, Barry, because you don’t sound very sure?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘OK, well, can you sound a bit more convincing when we talk to Master O’Connor?’

‘I said I want to be here.’

As they walked up the school steps, groups of students began whispering and turning their heads to get a look at them.

‘And you may start practising your apology now,’ she said, ‘because you might have to do some grovelling and you’ll have to at least look like you mean it. Do you hear me?’

‘I hear you.’

‘Well, what are you going to say to him?’

She pushed through the heavy glass doors.

‘I’ll tell him that I’m sorry and that I’ll apologise to Mrs Frawley and that I’ll keep my head down and I won’t cause any more trouble if he’ll just give me one more chance.’

‘No. Don’t start mentioning anything about chances or ultimatums – you’ll be in trouble again next week and you don’t want him using that against you. Say you’re sorry and you’ve been having a hard time, and turn on the bloody waterworks if you need to, Barry.’

The corridor was lined with students idling by their lockers.

‘Where’s his office?’

‘Up the stairs and at the end of the hall.’

She stomped up the stairs and followed the corridor to a door with “Principal” marked on it. She knocked, and when there was no response, she walked straight in, with Barry trailing behind. The room was small and windowless, with breeze-block walls painted white. Master O’Connor looked up from his desk and did not have time to disguise the look of annoyance on his face before he recognised Izzy. He had a sandwich in one hand and with the other he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin. He placed the sandwich back in its Tupperware.

‘Mrs Keaveney,’ he said, still chewing. ‘What can I do for you?’