About the book
A City of Small Mercies
Triage The first thing Róisín Hart heard when she stepped into the custody corridor was a man shouting that he knew his rights. The second thing was her mother’s voice, coming from somewhere behind the vending machine, saying, “I’m not being dramatic, love, but if you don’t ring me before eleven, I do assume you’re dead in a ditch.” Róisín stopped so sharply that the heel of her boot clipped the skirting board.