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detail, taking into account every possible calamity. Mr McCoy had
twoa weeks holiday so they were both going offf to Tyrone taking wiht
them the baby and the next two youngest children.
"Are you ready for off then?" asked Uncle Albert, putting his head
round the kitchen door.
"Not be a minute, Albeit," said Mrs McCoy, wrapping the baby’s
feeding bottle in a cloth and putting it into hera bulging shoppingcarrier
bag. Then she put out her arms for the baby. Kevin had been holding
her.
"There you arey." He swung the baby across.
"Careful, Kevin! You nearly stopped mey heart there."
"I've held plenty of babies in x my time, have I not?"
"'Deed I suppose you have!"
"Mary!" Mr McCoy was calling from the front street.
"Coming, Pete."
Kevin carried the bag out for her. The other two children were
already in the back of the car, climbing over the seat, jumping up a
and down withe excitement.
"It’s about time!" said Mr McCoy, helping his wife to get in to
the back of the car with the baby. "It'll be dark before we get there."
"It certainly will," said Kevin.
"Oh,I don't know," said Uncle Albert, who had never made the trip
to Tyrone without at least one breakdown,but would never in advance
admit to it being the remotest possibility. His memory sieved out
anything he didn't want to remember. Just as well, thought Kevin, as
