I don’t know, son. Ahead of us women in shawls and small children are picking up coal along the road. There, Dad, there’s coal. Och, no, son.We won’t pick coal off the road.We’re not beggars. He tells Mam the coal yards are closed and we’ll have to drink milk and eat bread tonight, but when I tell her about the women on the road she passes Eugene to him. If you’re too grand to pick coal off the road I’ll put on my coat and go down the Dock Road. She gets a bag and takes Malachy and me with her. Beyond the Dock Road there is something wide and dark with lights glinting in it. Mam says that’s the River Shannon.She says that’s what she missed most of all in America, the River Shannon.The Hudson was lovely but the Shannon sings.I can’t hear the song but my mother does and that makes her happy. The other women are gone from the Dock Road and we search for the bits of coal that drop from lorries. Mam tells us gather anything that burns, coal, wood, cardboard, paper. She says, There are them that burn the horse droppings but we’re not gone that low yet. When her bag is nearly full she says, Now we have to find an onion for Oliver. Malachy says he’ll find one but she tells him, No, you don’t find onions on the road, you get them in shops. The minute he sees a shop he cries out,There’s a shop, and runs in. Oonyen, he says. Oonyen for Oliver. Mam runs into the shop and tells the women behind the counter, I’m sorry.The woman says,Lord,he’s a dote.Is he an American or what? Mam says he is. The woman smiles and shows two teeth, one on each side of her upper gum.A dote, she says, and look at them gorgeous goldy curls.And what is it he wants now? A sweet? Ah, no, says Mam.An onion. The woman laughs, An onion? I never heard a child wanting an onion before. Is that what they like in America? Mam says, I just mentioned I wanted to get an onion for my other child that’s sick. Boil the onion in milk, you know. True for you, missus.You can’t beat the onion boiled in milk. And look,little boy,here’s a sweet for yourself and one for the other little boy, the brother, I suppose. Mam says, Ah, sure, you shouldn’t. Say thank you, boys. 69