“Parents sat gloomy and still, like rows of turnips in a grocer’s box. Their little criminals sat with them, tapping LOLs on their phones, or milled in the yard outside stinking of Lynx and taut nonchalance. Solicitors strode in and out in a twist of slacks and briefcases.”

“Parents sat gloomy and still, like rows of turnips in a grocer’s box. Their little criminals sat with them, tapping LOLs on their phones, or milled in the yard outside stinking of Lynx and taut nonchalance. Solicitors strode in and out in a twist of slacks and briefcases.”

— Lisa McInerney