The slow, rocking bow again. Whatever colour Deenie had in her white face had drained out of it.

Small and sturdy as a jewel.

It was instantly cosy, even if he could still be infuriating.

I look at my baby and I am sure he is made of velvet.

It is the Irish equivalent of the name James.

And the kiss was like – what was it like? It was like finding your favourite pair of boots under the bed. It was like finding them on the last day of your lease, the boxes already in the van, having assumed that they must have been left at an ex-lover’s house, or simply vanished by your own carelessness. Oh, these. Oh. Oh. I love these.

his comment about James stuck to my back teeth like hard toffee.

I don’t know, some kind of lucid dream.’

But the way he saw me left an impression. It changed how I saw myself.