Mr Flood is an old actor in a brown suit

He comes every Saturday for dinner with two bottles of stout and a flower for Bea. Flood could eat four chops and five potatoes. He circles his plate twice with the gravy jug. His movements are deliberate, as if carving out space around him. Federico can get halfway through his meal before Flood has taken his first mouthful. He puts a bit of everything on his fork, then lets it rest on the side of his plate. Beatrice, he says, Johnsonville is the wrong canvas for a woman like you.

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He lifts the fork to his open mouth. Flood chews food fully, like a cow. Sylvia and Bea tilt their chins and squint at him.

Are you saying I've misplaced myself, Sarsfield?

Federico keeps his hands under the table.

Federico, leave your peas on your plate, says Sylvia.

Flood swallows his food carefully and puts his knife and fork down.

All I'm saying is, how did we end up here?'

Federico rolls a pea between his thumb and finger. He tries his best to listen. The space between people at the table seems to expand, but no one moves. He pushes the pea into the underside of his chair and waits.

Where would you rather we be, Sarsfield

Oh. He waves his knife in the air then points it at the window. He cuts up a potato. Federico looks outside. There is the white sky and the garden, whose blooms this year are disappointing.