Authors: William McIlvanney
‘That’s a funny man, Mummy,’ a small voice said. ‘Look. He’s sleepin’.’
John opened his eyes and saw a small girl staring into his face from the seat in front before her mother smiled apologetically at John and turned her round to face forward. John thought of his own son, suddenly feeling how vulnerable he was. He wanted to be home quickly. He thought of the things he had to do, at his work and at home. He thought of them over and over again, like someone fingering a rosary.