Excerpt from The Butchers' Blessing by Ruth Gilligan, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"I don't know why, but I found this time so much harder."

Her mother's confession, though, wasn't part of the usual script. There was a weariness to the voice Úna barely recognised. And it didn't even make sense, given the promise that had been made last night.

I could pop back.

Spend a bit of time with you both.

The thought alone was sugar to Úna's teeth.

"Grá, I know it's difficult," Mrs. P assured. "I've been saying goodbye to Sol for almost fifty years ..." Then she tried to help by changing the subject. "And what about all this stuff on the news about the BSE? I presume you've heard the latest— they're saying the mad cow disease might be back."

Úna swallowed her biscuit and chewed over the strange words. Mad cow disease. She hadn't heard the earliest, let alone the latest.

Her mother was silent. "I read something, all right," she eventually replied. "But they say it's only over in England. Irish cows are safe—it's got nothing to do with us."

"But what if it spreads?" Mrs. P persisted. "What if Ireland's farms get contaminated too? What if—"

"Just because we're feeling maudlin this morning, let's not go looking for things to fret about."

This time it was the sting in her mother's voice that Úna didn't recognise. She saw the old woman flinch, biscuit crumbs spilling from her lips to her lap. They soon moved on to discussing a new recipe for soda bread, the various superstitions around this being a leap year; but the goodbyes definitely came a little earlier than usual. On her way out, Úna slipped a pair of Bourbons into her pocket. She realised her mam hadn't eaten a thing.

That night, Úna waited in her own room before she crept out across the landing. When she showed up at her parents' bed, she found her mam lying there wide awake. The duvet was lifted without hesitation; Úna slipped in against the thin and anxious frame. Before they dropped off, they each placed eight fingertips on to one another's skin. It was a secret ritual they had whenever one of them wasn't feeling right; an ancient tradition to banish all worries and flinches and stings.

* * *

The following week, it was time to say goodbye to the Christmas holidays too, which meant that Úna was back to the early starts. The world was still black when she set out, the roads glazed silver with the aftermath of last night's freeze. She noticed wee prints divoted in the dirt and thought of the fox she sometimes saw in their back garden. Would there be a fresh litter of cubs this year? She considered the question as she buried her hands in her pockets and walked faster, trying to outrun the cold.

The school corridors, by contrast, were baking, the ancient radiators making the strangest noises, though the din from Úna's classmates was soon so loud it drowned out everything else. Details of festive feasts and present hauls were swapped back and forth all morning until a winner was officially declared—Peadar Noonan with a Super Nintendo! The younger ones boasted about stacks of Pogs and shiny Premier League stickers, while the older gang went in for strawberry lip-glosses and Michael Jackson CDs.

Úna wandered from class to class, yanking down the jumper that kept rising up over her midriff. She was going to need a new one soon. Though really, it was a waste of money since the uniform didn't even serve its purpose—she still stood out a mile. The weirdo. The first-year freak.

The Butcher's daughter.

Sometimes it was just funny looks she got, whispers wafting up through the class like a bad smell. Other times the girls would scream when she brushed against them, claiming she had cursed them under her breath. Once, the boys had circled around her, pawing at the tarmac with their shoes, their fingers horns on the side of their heads. Mrs. Donoghue had shown up just before they charged.

Excerpted from The Butchers' Blessing by Ruth Gilligan. Copyright © 2020 by Ruth Gilligan. Excerpted by permission of Tin House Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.