My Fair Man. Jane Gordon

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      ‘The littleun. He’s nine now. I miss him a lot,’ he said.

      ‘Fourteen years younger than you?’

      He thought for a moment, screwing up his eyes as if making a difficult calculation. ‘I suppose …’

      ‘How did you get to that doorway that night? Why did you leave your home and your family?’

      He sighed and looked at her as if to say that the reasons were too plentiful and the story too long and painful to tell.

      ‘Me mam got a new man and there was no room. Wha aboot you, like? What aboot ye family?’ he said, clearly trying to deflect her from any further discussion of his own origins.

      ‘I have a family, a sister. You might have heard of my sister, Arabella.’

      ‘Is she famous, like?’ he said in tones of awe, offering her another cigarette which she quickly took.