woman.You drunken hoor, he says, leave the child alone, and all the women laugh. The sergeant gives my mother a blanket and she sleeps stretched out on a bench.The rest of us lie on the floor. Dad sits with his back to the wall, his  eyes  open  under  the  peak  of  his  cap, and  he  smokes  when the guards give him cigarettes.The guard who threw the butterscotch at the woman says he’s from Ballymena in the north and he talks with Dad about people they know there and in other places like Cushendall and Toome.The guard says he’ll have a pension some day and he’ll live on the shores of Lough Neagh and fish his days away. Eels, he says, eels galore.Jasus,I love a fried eel.I ask Dad,Is this Cuchulain? and the guard laughs till his face turns red.Ah, Mother o’ God, did yez hear this? The lad wants to know if I’m Cuchulain.A little Yank and he knows all about Cuchulain. Dad says, No, he’s not Cuchulain but he’s a fine man who will live on the shores of Lough Neagh and fish his days away. Dad is shaking me. Up, Francis, up. It is noisy in the barracks. A boy mopping the floor is singing, Anyone can see why I wanted your kiss, It had to be and the reason is this, Could it be true, someone like you Could love me, love me? I tell him that’s my mother’s song and he’s to stop singing it but he just puffs on his cigarette and walks away and I wonder why people have to sing other people’s songs. Men and women coming out of the cells are  yawning  and  grunting. The  woman  who  offered  me  the  butter- scotch stops and says, I had a drop taken, child. I’m sorry I made a fool of you, but the guard from Ballymena tells her, Move on, you oul’ hoor, before I lock you up again. Oh, lock me up, she says. In, out. What does it matter, you blue- arsed bastard. Mam is sitting up on the bench, the blanket wrapped around her.A woman with gray hair brings her a mug of tea and tells her, Sure, I’m the sergeant’s wife and he said you might need help.Would you like a nice soft-boiled egg, missus? 54