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‘Do you think I’m made of money?’ he’d said – and immediately felt the long shadow of his father’s language crossing over his life, on what should have been a good day, if not one of his happiest.
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If a part of Cathal now wondered how he might have turned out if his father had been another type of man and had not laughed, Cathal did not let his mind dwell on it. He told himself it meant little, that it was just a bad joke.

