After the Lockout. Darran McCann

cupboard to look for a mop. After he had cleaned up his mess, he locked the front door of the hall after him and sat on the steps to pull on his shoes. Hearing someone coming, he looked up the street and froze when he saw it was Victor Lennon.

      ‘Morning, Your Grace,’ the Victor fellow said.

      For the first time since he was a child, Stanislaus seemed unable to tie his laces. He abandoned the knot and started again. Lennon did not stop as he passed, and Stanislaus left off warring with his laces to watch him disappear up the road. Where was he going, so early in the morning? Or coming from? He wore the same ragged uniform and still had his suitcase. He hadn’t been home yet; where had he been? Stanislaus looked back to his laces, tangled stupidly, and methodically set about undoing the tangle.