–Why?

James O’Keefe didn’t answer that one. It wasn’t good enough.

–Why did they?

–Just look?

–Yeah, said James O’Keefe.—She bent down and only had a look. Me. She touched his.

–She didn’t! said Brian Sheridan.—She didn’t.

He was nearly crying again.

–She did so, said James O’Keefe.—You’re a liar, Sherro.

–She didn’t.

–She used an icepop stick, said James O’Keefe.

We were all shouting now. To get James O’Keefe to hurry up.

–Not her fingers!

Brian Sheridan yelled it. It was important; his face told us that.

–Not her fingers! Not her hand.

He calmed down after that but his face was still red and very white. Kevin grabbed James O’Keefe. I got my jumper round his neck to choke him. We had to know what she did with the icepop stick. We were nearly next.

–Tell us!

I choked James O’Keefe a bit.

–O’Keefe, tell us! Go on.

I loosened the jumper. There was a burn mark on his neck. We weren’t messing.

–She lifted his mickey up with an icepop stick.

He turned to me.

–I’m going to get you, he said.

He didn’t say it to Kevin, only to me.

–Why? said Ian McEvoy.

–To see the back of it, said James O’Keefe.

–Why?

–Don’t know.

–To make sure it was normal, maybe.

–Is it? I asked Brian Sheridan.

–Yeah!

–Prove it.

The door opened. The two others came out.

–Did she touch yeh with the icepop stick? Did she?

–No. She only looked. Didn’t she?

–Yeah.

–How come you? Kevin asked Brian Sheridan.

Brian Sheridan was crying again.

–She only looked, he said.

We left him alone. I took my shirt off, and my vest. We were next. Then I wondered.

–Why are we to take our stuff off?

James O’Keefe answered.

–They do other things as well.

–What other things?

The two in front of us were very slow. The nurse had to put her hands on their elbows to get them into the room. She closed the door.

–Is that the one? I asked James O’Keefe.

–Yeah, he said.

She was the one with the icepop stick. The one down on her knees staring at our mickeys. She didn’t look that way. She looked nice. She’d been smiling when she grabbed the two in front of us. Her hair was up in a big bun with some down the side between her eyes and her ears. She wasn’t wearing a cap. She was young.

–Dirty wagon, said David Geraghty.

We broke ourselves laughing, because it was funny and because David Geraghty had said it.

–Does your mickey have polio? Kevin asked him.

Kevin didn’t get what he’d expected.

–Yeah, said David Geraghty.—She won’t touch it.

Then we remembered.

–What other things?

Brian Sheridan told us. The blotches were gone off his face. He looked normal.

–He listens to your back with a stethoscope, he said.—And your front.

–It’s freezing, said James O’Keefe.

–Yeah, said Brian Sheridan.

–Yeah, said one of the others that had just come out.—It’s the worst bit.

–Did he check your B.C.G.?

–Yeah.

–Told yeh.

I checked mine again. All the marks were there, the three of them. They were very clear, like the top of a coconut. I looked at Kevin’s. His were there as well.

–Any needles? someone asked.

–No, said Brian Sheridan.

–Not us anyway, said James O’Keefe.—Maybe some of youse.

–Shut up, O’Keefe.

David Geraghty spoke again.

–Did they do anything with your bum?

The laughs exploded. I laughed louder than I had to. We all did. We were scared and we’d made David Geraghty nearly cry. It was the first time David Geraghty had been funny out loud, in front of everybody. I liked him.

The two came out. They were smiling. The door was open for us. It was our turn, me and Kevin. I went first. I had to. I was pushed.

–Ask her for a chocice, said David Geraghty.

I laughed later. Not then though.

She was waiting. I stopped looking when she looked at me.—Trousers and underpants, lads, she said.

I only remembered the safety pin on the top of my zip, only now. My ma had put it there. My face burned. I turned a bit, away from Kevin. I got it into my pocket. I turned back and I whistled to get rid of the heat in my face. Kevin’s underpants were dirty. Down the middle, a straight brown line that got lighter on the outside. I didn’t look at my own. I just let them fall. I didn’t look anywhere. Not down. Not at Kevin. Not at the doctor at the desk. I waited. I waited for the feel of the stick. She was in front of me. I could tell. I didn’t look. I couldn’t feel my mickey there. There was no feeling there at all. When the icepop stick went under I’d scream. And dirty myself. She was still there. Bent down looking at it. Staring. Maybe rubbing her chin. Making her mind up. There was a cobweb in the corner over the doctor, a big dry one. There was a thread of it swinging. There was a breeze up there. She was making her mind up. If it was bad enough to lift to see the other side. If I didn’t look she wouldn’t do it. I was looking for the spider. If she did it I’d be finished forever. The most amazing thing about spiders was the way they made their webs. I’d never be normal again—

–Righto, she said.—Off you go, over to Doctor McKenna.

No touch. No stick. I nearly forgot to pull up my underpants and trousers. I took the first step. I pulled them up. Between my bum was wet. It didn’t matter now. No stick. Three B.C.G. marks.

–Did she touch yours? Kevin asked me.

At the door, going out. He whispered.

–No, I said.

It felt brilliant.

–Me neither, he said.

I didn’t tell him about his underpants.

Under the table was a fort. With the six chairs tucked under it there was still plenty of room; it was better that way, more secret. I’d sit in there for hours. This was the good table in the living room, the one that never got used, except at Christmas. I didn’t have to bend my head. The roof of the table was just above me. I liked it like that. It made me concentrate on the floor and feet. I saw things. Balls of fluff, held together and made round by hair, floated on the lino. The lino had tiny cracks that got bigger if you pressed them. The sun was full of dust, huge chunks of it. It made me want to stop breathing. But I loved watching it. It swayed like snow. When my da was standing up he stood perfectly still. His feet clung to the ground. They only moved when he was going somewhere. My ma’s feet were different. They didn’t settle. They couldn’t make their minds up. I fell asleep in there; I used to. It was always cool in there, never cold, and warm when I wanted it to be. The lino was nice on my face. The air wasn’t alive like outside, beyond the table; it was safe. It had a smell I liked. My da’s socks had diamonds on them. I woke up once and there was a blanket on top of me. I wanted to stay there forever. I was near the window. I could hear the birds outside. My da’s legs were crossed. He was humming. The smell from the kitchen was lovely; I wasn’t hungry, I didn’t need it. Stew. It was Thursday. It must have been. My ma was humming as well. The same song as my da. It wasn’t a proper song, just a hum with a few notes in it. It didn’t sound like they knew they were humming the same thing. The notes had just crept into one of their heads, my da’s probably. My ma did most of the humming. I stretched till my foot pushed a chair leg, and curled up again. The blanket had sand in it, from a picnic.

That was before my mother had Cathy and Deirdre. Sinbad couldn’t walk then; I remembered. He slid along the lino on his bum. I couldn’t do it any more. I could get under the table but my head pressed the top when I sat straight and I couldn’t sit still; it hurt, my legs ached. I was afraid I’d be caught. I tried it a few times but it was stupid.