Small Things Like These

Whatever suffering he was now to meet was a long way from what the girl at his side had already endured, and might yet surpass.

he found himself asking was there any point in being alive without helping one another?

The blow was cheap but it was the first he’d heard from her, in all their years together.

Did she ever imagine how her life would be if she had married another?

He was touching forty but didn’t feel himself to be getting anywhere or making any kind of headway and could not but sometimes wonder what the days were for.

Some nights, Furlong lay there with Eileen, going over small things like these.

Now, he lived in the town with his wife, Eileen, and their five daughters.

His mother, at the age of sixteen, had fallen pregnant while working as a domestic for Mrs Wilson, the Protestant widow who lived in the big house a few miles outside of town.