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Across the couch they thundered, tag at the end and then a mad dash for the woman sitting quietly watching from the bench. The blood was rising in their cheeks, as the shrieks were rising in their throats.
‘B-A-R. Mum’s bar’ Liam panted throwing himself against her lap.
The city was quiet, the streets deserted. The phalanx of buildings surrounded the small park, casting dark shadows and channelling the bitter winter winds. The boys did not mind. They could run like this for hours. They were each other’s best friend. Their mother watched them out of soft grey eyes. Her fingers tapped out a rhythm on the dilapidated bench. The wind blew a page from a newspaper across her black court shoes. Empty beer bottles clinked as they rolled to and fro across the pavers.
She pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket, still one more refuge to try.
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