The doorbell gave a stentorian clamour. Startled, Rafferty dropped the hairdryer, and its hot blast scattered the paper he had been doodling on earlier in the week. He glanced at the clock as he rushed to answer the door; he might have known his ma wouldn't wait for him to collect her. Any excuse for a nose into his love-life would do.
'Hello, son.' Kitty Rafferty's gaze wondered from his half-dried hair, past his shortie Chinese dragon dressing gown, to his large bare feet. 'Can I come in?' she asked. 'Or do you plan on entertaining the neighbours to a kung-foowi demonstration?'
'You're early,' he told her, as she shut the door. 'I said I'd collect you.'
'I got her next door to drop me off on her way to her eldest girl's. I thought it best. You know how difficult you find it to get any
