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“Oh, it’s fine. Yes, Bernard. I do like The Beatles, but they’re not my favourite band. And I’d love a cuppa, El. If it wasn’t a deadly sin, I’d kill for a slice of that cake you were offering around earlier.”

“Murder won’t be necessary,” Mum giggled, her cheeks still flushed from dancing. “But, on the other hand, if you were offering to dispatch a certain person, I wouldn’t say no.”

Father Higgins raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know about murder, but I sent her off into a deep sleep with dark tales of all the hellfire and brimstone awaiting us sinners.” A smile quirked his lips.

Mum hummed as she struck a match and lit the camping stove for the kettle. Father Higgins rested his head back and closed his eyes. Bernard, who was still standing by the priest’s side, tapped his arm.

“What do you mean, they’re not your favourite?”

The priest opened one eye and looked at him. “What?”

“You said The Beatles aren’t your favourite band. Who is your favourite, then?”

Father Higgins chuckled. “Oh, I quite like The Beach Boys.”

I scoffed from my cushion. “The Beach Boys? One-hit wonders, I’d say.”

“I don’t know, George. They’re pretty cool. I think they’ll go far.” He puckered his lips and whistled the tune toSurfin’ U.S.A.Bernard giggled and joined in.A traitor, like that bloody dog.

I shook my head, returning my gaze to the book I wasn’t actually reading.

“There you go.” Mum placed a tray with tea and cake on the priest’s lap. “And there’s another little slice for you boys too, but don’t let it ruin your dinner. Would you be good lads and take it outside, so I can speak with Father Higgins a moment?”

I huffed and Bernard whined.

“Not for long, boys. And then Father will read to you, alright?”

We picked up our cake and slunk outside.

I leaned against the studio wall and devoured the lemony sponge, poppy seeds catching in my loose tooth as I chewed. Bernard, who’d fed half his cake to Pyg, jumped around with her, marvelling at their long shadows in the sinking sunlight.

“Look at the size of our legs, George. We look like giants. Or monsters.”

“You look like idiots.”

“Oi!” Bernard pouted and raised his arms above his head with fingers splayed. He growled and stomped towards the dog. “I’m gonna eat you alive!”

Pyg zoomed around in response, bushy tail wagging a frantic rhythm. Her panting mouth resembled Bernard’s goofy laughter.

Raised voices from inside the studio pulled my attention and I stepped back towards the door, turning my ear to the gap in the warped frame.

“Why would you provoke her like that, El? I told you getting a dog would be a bad idea.”

“The boys deserve at least a little joy in their lives. You’ve no idea what it’s like constantly turning the other cheek. Living this half-life?—”

“What are you doing?” Bernard’s small voice asked behind me.

Startled, I spun around. “Shh! I’m trying to listen.”

Bernard huffed and ran off, his arms out like an aeroplane, with Pyg chasing after him. I pressed my ear back to the door.

“Come now, don’t get upset. Try to focus on the future.”

“You always say that, but sometimes it’s impossible to imagine there’ll ever be a way out of here.”

“Well, I’ve made some enquiries about a new overseas mission in Africa. It could give us the fresh start we need.”

“Africa?”