All seemed normal, but Imelda knew she’d gone too far this time. It was possible neither Keelin nor Brigid, nor even Marie-Claire, would speak to her for a long time, if ever, she thought as she slid her feet into her slippers and wrapped her snug pink dressing gown around her. Well feck them, she told herself grumpily as she marched into the bathroom. So what if she’d offended them – none of them had had to put up with what she’d had to put up with.

Ten minutes later, Imelda stood at the back door feeding the neighbour’s black cat, Sooty. It was bitterly cold but there was a hint of warmth in the sun’s rays when she lifted her face to the sky. Sooty weaved around her ankles, head-butting her in gratitude before scoffing the dried food nuggets Imelda had poured in his dish, as if he were starving. The neighbours thought nothing of going off on holidays and leaving the young cat to fend for himself, Imelda observed crossly. They counted on someone taking pity on him and throwing him a bit of food.

‘Taken us for granted, Sooty,’ Imelda complained. ‘But sure, everyone takes me for granted,’ she informed him, patting his furry head as he ate, ecstatically happy to be fed. ‘I’m in the dog house now because I had a row with them all and told them in no uncertain terms what was what. But does anyone see my side of it? No!’ Sooty glanced up at her companionably before resuming his eating.

She left the door ajar, in case he wanted to come in when he was finished feeding. Imelda liked it when Sooty came and sat beside her on the sofa. It was comforting to have another heartbeat in the house, someone to talk to, even if he couldn’t talk back. She filled the kettle and dropped two slices of toast into the toaster.

With a frisson of apprehension, she flipped open her phone. Would there be accusatory texts berating her for her bad behaviour? She glanced at the notifications and saw nothing. Not one message. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or indignant. For all they knew she could be lying in a ditch in an overturned car, stone dead!

‘They couldn’t care less about me, Sooty,’ she grumbled to the cat, who was now sitting looking up at her.

And why should they? The thought came unbidden. What was it about her that wouldn’t let things go?

‘Well, he was a priest, and he defiled my daughter and brought shame to her,’ she muttered angrily, taking a sip of tea. Sooty rubbed his velvety nose against her leg.