It turned out that my picture in the Belfast Telegraph had been enough to convince the Department of Health and Social Security that I was not unemployed at all but was in fact engaged in active work while claiming unemployment benefit. It was impossibly unlucky that my first bit of doing the double in months had been exposed in Northern Ireland’s most widely circulated newspaper. On page 1, too. But still, the boys in the DHSS are not that smart and I had the feeling that they would never have found it but for some sleekit nosy neighbor tipping them off.

What if I deny that’s me? I suggested.

Are you denying it’s you?

I don’t know.

Well then, the man said, adjusting his glasses.

Nan offered us more tea. I said no but the man took a dish, as well as some of her drop scones.

How old are you again, Mr. Forsythe? he asked after a while.

Nineteen.

No longer a juvenile. Dear oh dear, he said ominously.

Look, what exactly are you saying I did wrong?

You were claiming unemployment benefit while working on a building site. I am afraid, Mr. Forsythe, you’ll have to go to court.

Yeah, but what for?

For benefit fraud, mate, the man scoffed…

But I didn’t go to court. I pleaded guilty the next week and signed off benefit forever. I was unemployed, had been so for over a year, and now I was never going to get any more money. I moped for another week. Nan couldn’t support me on her pension so there was no choice but to do what my cousin Leslie said I should have done twelve months earlier, which was to work for her brother-in-law who worked for Darkey White in America. Darkey would pay for my ticket, and I’d pay him back in time served.