‘As the Dubs say with such expressive vulgarity: I am, in me hoop. And all them bishops and cardinals, who turned their backs on my kind, gentle Larry can put that in their gold pipes and smoke them.’ Imelda tittered at the dumbfounded expression on their faces. The others fell about laughing and Imelda raised her glass, delighted with herself.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

‘Good morning, dear, I hope I didn’t wake you up,’ Marie-Claire heard her grandmother say as she groggily held the phone to her ear.

‘It’s time I was up, Granny. I was having a lie-in. It’s been a mad week.’ Marie-Claire yawned and glanced at her alarm clock. It was only nine a.m. on a Saturday.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ her grandmother said, and Marie-Claire waited, intrigued to see what was coming next. Imelda sounded perky enough, so she didn’t think there could be anything wrong.

‘And what were you thinking?’ She hauled her pillows into a comfortable position and settled back against them.

‘I know your strategy is never to tell that yoke in Canada why you dropped him, but if you don’t mind my saying so, that’s what they call passive-aggressive type of behaviour, and you’re better than that,’ Imelda declared.

Marie-Claire’s jaw dropped.

‘Oh!’ she managed. She’d not been expecting this.

‘In my opinion – and you may not agree with me – I think you should say it straight to his face,’ Imelda carried on, oblivious to her granddaughter’s stupefaction. ‘End it properly. Or if you really love him, give him another chance and forgive him. An affair can be got over, if the bond is strong enough,’ Imelda advised briskly.

‘You think I’m being passive-aggressive?’ Marie-Claire made a face, trying not to feel insulted.

‘I do! And do you know why?’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m an expert at it. And look where it got me – nowhere. It’s wasted energy, as Keelin would say. And you’ll always have that bitterness in you. You don’t want that. That’s my advice to you now. Take it or leave it. Now, I have to go – Brigid and I are meeting up to go to a cousin’s funeral, in Ennis. I’ll talk to you again soon.’

‘Oh, OK. Give my love to Auntie Brigid. And thanks for thinking of me, Granny,’ Marie-Claire said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry when she hung up.