long as he’s in there with the pint. I’m about to give the money to the woman in the shop when my hand is slapped down and there’s Aunt Aggie, raging. Is this what you do, she says, on the day of your brother’s funeral? Gorgin’ yourself on sweets.And where’s that father of yours? He’s, he’s, in the pub. Of course he’s in the pub.You out here stuffin’ yourself with sweets and him in there gettin’ himself into a staggerin’ condition the day your poor little brother goes to the graveyard. She tells the shop woman, Just like his father, the same odd manner, the same oul’ northern jaw. She tells me get into that pub and tell my father to stop the drink- ing and get the coffin and the carriage. She will not set foot inside the pub for the drink is the curse of this poor godforsaken country. Dad is sitting at the back of the pub with a man who has a dirty face and hair growing out of his nose.They’re not talking but staring straight ahead and their black pints are resting on a small white coffin on the seat between them. I know that’s Eugene’s coffin because Oliver had one like it and I want to cry when I see the black pints on top of it. I’m sorry now I ever ate that toffee and I wish I could take it out of my stomach and give it back to the woman in the shop because it’s not right to be eating toffee when Eugene is dead in the bed and I’m frightened by the two black pints on his white coffin.The man with Dad is saying, No, mister, you can’t leave a child’s coffin in a carriage no more. I did that once, went in for a pint and they robbed that little coffin out of the bloody carriage.Can you credit that? It was empty,thank God,but there you are. Desperate times we live in, desperate.The man with Dad lifts his  pint  and  takes  a  long  swallow  and  when  he  puts  his  glass  down there’s a hollow sound in the coffin. Dad nods at me.We’ll be going in a minute, son, but when he goes to put his glass on the coffin after the long swallow I push it away. That’s Eugene’s coffin. I’ll tell Mam you put your glass on Eugene’s coffin. Now, son. Now, son. Dad, that’s Eugene’s coffin. The other man says,Will we have another pint, mister? Dad says to me,Wait outside another few minutes, Francis. No. Don’t be a bad boy. No. 86