In the middle of Kilmora the water fountain and the cross stood where they had always been. All of the village’s roads and streets ran into or around the two granite landmarks and if there was a manoeuvre or an errand to be performed it would be done in full view of them or not at all. Joey remembered the dread and fear he had felt passing by them in his final days in Kilmora. There was always a group of crones in shawls and headscarves, clucking away like proud hens, at their vantage point. The group of them would gather to pass judgement on the village’s affairs and Joey knew himself and Shauna were never far from their lips.
As he approached Joey saw the water fountain and the cross had only one slender figure to keep them company. He recognised the man with his head turned close to hi
