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SUNDAY

‘Shannon?’ George Kenny burst into his sister’s bedroom to discover it empty. It was hard to know if the bed had been slept in due to the state of the room. Clothes had been dropped across the floor and on the bed. Cosmetics littered the dresser. The odour of fake tan hung in the air like a wet rag. ‘Goddam you, sis.’

He thundered down the stairs. Davy sat at the table, dipping his spoon into a bowl of Cheerios without milk.

‘Sorry, kid, I’ll get the milk.’ George rushed to the refrigerator.

‘Are you working, Daddy?’ the little boy asked.

‘I’m supposed to be catching up, but your Auntie Shannon let me down again.’

‘When is Mammy coming home?’

‘Soon.’ George poured milk on the kid’s cereal and made a coffee for himself.

‘Yeah! She’s getting me a football kit.’

‘I’m not sure she’ll get to the shops.’ Niamh’s WhatsApp photos had all been taken in pubs.

‘She promised,’ Davy whined, splashing the milk everywhere.

‘Eat up and I’ll get you settled with something on Netflix. How about SpongeBob ?’

‘Hate it.’

‘I better put some calamine lotion on those spots. Are they itchy?’

‘Don’t want lotion.’

Davy let his spoon fall into the cereal and stomped up the stairs like a baby elephant. It reminded George of when he and Shannon were little. She was usually the one doing the stomping while he tried to keep the peace with their harried mother. Shannon had always been the one to let the side down. George was fed up being the good guy. There would be a massive row when she arrived home.

He put the bowl and spoon in the sink. He’d deal with his sister soon. She had outstayed her welcome. It was time for her to find a place of her own. A place where she could upset no one but herself.