During the Dance — Mark Lawrence

The magic's in the dance and the dance goes on.


Dad stopped drinking the day my sister was born. He called her his angel, and the booze didn't take him back until she died. He came drunk to the funeral, crying and roaring, loud enough for two parents, loud enough to make up for Mam's silence. At the end, the men had to hold him back, or he'd have thrown himself in the grave.