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against the floorboards. Dad didn’t even open his eyes, but I saw by the big sigh in his next ‘Hail Mary, full of grace’ that I was a long way from being full of grace myself.

I scooped to pick them up, making another racket, but then I didn’t know where we were up to. I looked over at Dad’s beads and tried to X-ray through his hand, but he had them beads all bunched up inside his fist.

It was the same story everywhere I looked. I felt a rise of panic like vomit in my tummy. My eyes zoomed back in on Dad’s beads beside me. There was a smudge of ash on his left hand. I reached over to rub it away. Then I stopped like I’d been burned.

I squeezed my eyes tight and counted backwards from ten like Mum taught me. I got to zero and started again. Dad had a frown waiting for me when I opened my eyes. So I started into Holy Mary, Mother of God, just saying anything to put him off the scent. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

I squeezed my knees together, but the storm was building. Mum would want me to stay real still. Real, breathing slow, steady. But those bits of gold-edged paper curling on the top of those logs in the fireplace were big in me. Then too big. I tugged on Dad’s sleeve. He opened one eye, but whatever he saw on my face made him close it quick smart. I tugged again. He shook his head to warn me. I put my rosary in my pocket and took Dad’s wrist and squeezed. Tessa leaned right over Dad and smacked my hand away. I felt my eyes get smaller, so I tried to open them wide, wide. But it was no use.

‘Dad,’ I whispered.

He just made his ‘Blessed is the fruit of thy womb’ louder. That made the red get louder in me. I’d seen those gold edges before, every week, right in God’s house. I got off my knees and stood up to whisper in his ear. ‘Dad, why were you burning Mum’s Mass book in the fireplace?’

His eyes sprung open. He turned his head and stared. I was looking straight into those big staring brown eyes of the bunny caught in the spotlight before we found out Mum was dead. All the red whooshed away in me with a puff. I got back to my knees quick smart and got those beads out and sorted. Eyes closed and like I planned never to open them again. Not if I had to see that look in my dad’s eyes.

We got to the end of the rosary and everybody shifted so eventually I had to open them. There was nothing of that left in Dad’s eyes, and maybe I’d imagined it.

Dad thanked people for coming and shook their hands. He talked to this one and that one. He didn’t talk to me and he didn’t look at me.

MRS TYLER’S SUSPICION

Aunty Peg’s voice was all through the house singing ‘Amazing Grace’, only putting ‘Sarah’ for ‘Grace’. She couldn’t make it quite fit, but she said that wasn’t going to stop her singing it at the funeral.

Dad said, ‘Over my dead body,’ and Aunty Peg said, ‘If needs must.’

Us kids took bets on who would win. Tim and I were going for Aunty Peg. We reckoned mad beat angry every time.

By the afternoon, Tim didn’t like the look of one of his ferrets. He yelled for me to come take a look. He was on the ground with his face just about in the cage. Longtail did look a bit yellower than normal. Tim twanged the bars of the cage. The other ferrets all rushed to the other side. Tim pulled his hand away. Longtail stayed right where he was in the corner.

‘We’d better change the water, clean out the cage, give im some extra meat. See if he perks up.’

‘I’m busy,’ I said.

He got to his feet, dusted off his hands. ‘It’s Mum’s funeral tomorrow,’ he said, as if that should make me think again. When it didn’t, he added, ‘And you know she’d want you to help me.’ But there was something angled up about him. He got the straw from the hay bale in the corner. He was no way looking at me, but I was looking at him real good.

‘Not doing it,’ I said.

He ignored me.

‘Get Philly to help you.’

‘Gut ache.’

I knew what she was really doing. She was writing a poem for Mum’s funeral. Said she was going to ask Mrs Tyler to read it.

I folded my arms.

‘Mum’s watching,’ he said. ‘Sees everything,’

I looked up to the sky. Screwed my face up as if considering the matter, then dashed to the bench to get the big rubber ferret gloves before him, but he got there first, not fooled for a second. He didn’t grin like he normally did when he got the better of me. I folded my arms again. He pointed to the sky.

That wasn’t what made up my mind, though. I saw what I’d been looking at in him. He wasn’t going to let another thing die. Not the day before we put Mum in the ground. I had one big sigh and I let it out as I picked up the bucket and lid from the bench. ‘Give me just one of your gloves, then,’ I said.

‘I need both in case they get away. Bite your toes off.’

I shoved at him, but squatted down to ready the bucket on the ground. He caught the first ferret in the cage and dropped it into the bucket. I smashed the lid on top fast before it could jump out. Black Claws rammed his head against it. Tim got Sulky ready. We counted: one, two, three. I pulled back the lid and in she went. Once they were all in, he put the