But I’m here now, sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of bread and bacon in front of me. Smoaker is sitting opposite, picking bacon rind from his teeth. Somehow I know that Ma has taken to her bed early. Smoaker must have told me; but I don’t remember when. I take a bite of bread and chew. I try to swallow, but I can’t. There’s a big lump in me throat. I spit the chewed dough into me hand and pass it under the table to Nep. I had better take some supper through to Ma soon, I think. But I don’t move. Poor Noah. Done up so stiff in all his finery and forced to be polite to his father’s friends. Because that’s what happened, I tell meself. He couldn’t get away from the visitors. The more I think about it, the more I know it must be true. Noah would never have let me down without good reason. I think about the girl he was talking to. I’m sure it was the same one that was on the pier with him yesterday. She might have been pretty, but I imagine her head was as empty as a pauper’s purse.
