Jimmy had the Remembrance Day ceremony on. The mother of the fallen soldier – eighty-five if she was a day – carefully placed a wreath at the base of the war memorial. Her two daughters, now old women themselves, stood beside her, all three of them weighed down by their black overcoats, by their losses. And the line of veterans back in uniform for the day, grim faced. Oh, he could just imagine what was going through their heads. He thought of his uncle Gordon, home from the First World War and never really right again, living in the back room at Jimmy’s grandmother’s and talking to no one.
Then he screwed up his goddamn square with all the feelings he was feeling watching the b****y TV and was left pulling out stitches. Again.
Frankie walked into the living room and flopped onto the couc
