ABRA WAS STILL UP. It was an ominous sign. It was clear she’d stayed up deliberately in order to have a serious go at him about his many disappearing acts. In the living room, arms folded, expression grim, she reminded him of Ma at her most determined. Not a good sign. It was probably just as well that he had finally decided to tell all, because if he hadn’t, he thought it likely she’d have got it out of him anyway. He collapsed, exhausted, into an armchair, and waited for the inquisition to start. He didn’t have long to wait.
‘Joseph Rafferty, you’re making me think I’m about to shackle myself to the village i***t,’ she told him when he finally shuffled out part of the back story.
Rafferty gave a sad little nod. ‘You may be right. Can I use it as a plea in mitigation, Your Honour?’
‘No
