The Names

by Florence Knapp

Because sometimes their need to please previous generations is greater than their need to love future ones.

For Cian, Sílbhe and her grandchildren are like a slug of whiskey making his insides burn with the sharp pleasure of human contact. Of being invited in from the cold.

“Is it not just common sense that folk should be left alone to get on with their lives?” Cian says.

she finds the countryside claustrophobic, hemmed in by too big a sky and endless green.

A clarity exists amongst them, that they have shared their lives with someone quietly magnificent.