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Nessa possessed, and they both knew their own minds as well as sharing a sense of humour. It deeply saddened Nessa that one day, if Jamesie carried on the way he was going, he would break the poor girl’s spirit with his outbursts and acts of intimidation.
    “Your father was always a stubborn eejit, even as a lad, it was always ‘his way or no way’.” Nessa sat down at the table, and spread honey onto the soda bread. She had no idea why Jamesie had turned out like he had, but she often wondered whether things would have been different if her late husband, Patrick, had been around while her son was growing up. Nessa had been widowed when Jamesie had been just eight months old, and it still felt like yesterday. Patrick had been killed in a car accident, his death brutal and sudden, and Nessa had never really got over his loss, he had been one of the kindest men she had ever known. After his death, she had been forced to leave Dublin. Being a single mother in Ireland during the recession of the sixties was nigh on impossible. There was no money to bring up a child so after a lot of wavering she finally decided that it was time to leave. Hackney had been her home ever since. It had been hard for her at first, but she had managed to find herself a cleaning job and a little place to rent. Working almost every hour that God sent and raising a son alone had been an uphill struggle. Nessa had had no time, nor desire for a man in her life, and maybe, she thought to herself now as she looked into her granddaughter’s sad eyes, that had been her downfall. Maybe that had been what Jamesie had needed all along: a strong male role model? Nessa had dedicated herself a hundred percent to her son and had tried to be the best mother that she had known how to be. She wasn’t sure where it had all gone wrong for Jamesie, but one thing she did know for sure was that she hadn’t raised him as someone who would think that it was okay to treat women in such a vulgar, despicable way. Hitting women was disgraceful, and Nessa was deeply ashamed of her son’s behaviour. She had very little to do with him these days because of it. In fact, if it wasn’t for her beautiful granddaughter, she would have cut all ties with him long ago. Nessa was baffled at how some mothers condoned their son’s abusive behaviour, making up excuses for them like ‘he was driven to it’ or ‘she probably deserved it’. They were too blinded by denial to admit that their own sons were a disgrace: well, not Nessa. With her a spade was a spade, she would rather disown Jamesie than join that delusional crowd.
    “Mm, this is really lovely,” Sophia joked, as she popped the buttery piece of bread that her nan had smothered in honey into her mouth. Her nan looked deep in thought; the last thing Sophia wanted to do was cause her more worry. “You keep giving me food like this, Nan, and I might have to move in.”
    “Well, pet, if I had the room you’d be more than welcome. You know you can have the sofa whenever you need it. It ain’t much, I know, but it’s the best that I can offer, what with this place being so blooming pokey. Either that or you could ‘top and tail’ with me, but... I would strongly advise against that option. I’ve enough wind inside of me to launch a few kites some nights.” Nessa giggled and once more Sophia rolled her eyes, although she couldn’t help but smile: her nan cracked her up.
    “So, I guess I’d better get home and get my uniform on. I’m so tired I really don’t know how I’m going to concentrate...” She left her words hanging in the air; her Nan would take the hint, she was sure.
    “You can’t keep taking time off, Sophia,” Nessa said sharply. Her granddaughter’s education would be affected if Jamesie’s antics kept on driving the poor mite out of her own bed every night. Nessa had already given Sophia a key so that the poor girl could escape here for some respite if things were bad at home, and she always