Mam turns to us. Do any of ye remember a wall? Michael pulls at her hand. Is that the wall we burned in the fire? The rent man says,Dear God in heaven,this beats Banagher,this takes the bloody biscuit, this is goin’ beyond the beyonds. No rent and what am I to tell Sir Vincent below in the office? Out, missus, I’m puttin’ ye out.One week from today I’ll knock on this door and I want to find nobody at home, everybody out never to return. Do you have me, missus? Mam’s face is tight. ’Tis a pity you weren’t alive in the times when the English were evicting us and leaving us on the side of the road. No lip, missus, or I’ll send the men to put ye out tomorrow. He goes out the door and leaves it open to show what he thinks of us.  Mam  says,  I  don’t  know  in  God’s  name  what  I’m  going  to  do. Grandma says,Well, I don’t have room for ye but your cousin, Gerard Griffin,  is  living  out  the  Rosbrien  Road  in  that  little  house  of  his mother’s and he’d surely be able to take ye in till better times come. ’Tis all hours of the night but I’ll go up and see what he says and Frank can come with me. She tells me put on a coat but I don’t have one and she says, I sup- pose there’s no use in asking if ye have an umbrella either. Come on. She pulls the shawl over her head and I follow her out the door, up the lane, through the rain to Rosbrien Road nearly two miles away. She knocks on the door of a little cottage in a long row of little cottages.Are you there, Laman? I know you’re in there. Open the door. Grandma, why are you calling him Laman? Isn’t his name Gerard? How would I know? Do I know why the world calls your uncle Pat Ab? Everyone calls this fella Laman. Open the door. We’ll go in. He might be working overtime. She pushes the door. It’s dark and there’s a damp sweet smell in the room.This room looks like the kitchen and there’s a smaller room next to it.There’s a little loft above the bedroom with a skylight where the rain is beating.There are boxes everywhere, newspapers, magazines, bits of food, mugs, empty tins.We can see two beds taking up all the space in the bedroom, a great acre of a bed and a smaller one near the win- dow. Grandma pokes at a lump in the big bed. Laman, is that you? Get up, will you, get up. What? What? What? What? There’s trouble. Angela is gettin’ evicted with the children an’ ’tis delvin’out of the heavens.They need a bit of shelter till they get on their feet an’ I have no room for them.You can put them up in the loft if you 277