Dazed with despair and shock, her eyes blurred with tears, she drove on autopilot, wondering if she was about to wake up and be overcome with relief that it was only a bad dream. But it was no nightmare. This was real, Imelda acknowledged, jamming on her brakes to avoid a black cat who was sauntering nonchalantly across the road. Her marriage was over, she thought frantically. Larry could go and live with his fey, artistic lover, because she was kicking him out of the house.

What a scandal it would cause if she did that though, she thought miserably. The townland would be riveted, the gossip spreading like wildfire. Her parents would be horrified. Marriage break-ups were unheard of. People got on with things in good Old Catholic Ireland.

Perhaps she should move to Dublin. Her thoughts skittered here and there, seeking a solution. She’d every reason to go now. What a relief it would be to live in an anonymous city where no one knew her business. She could get a house near Teresa. Larry would have to pay for the children’s upkeep and she could get a job. She’d plenty of retail experience.

Could she uproot the children from their home, their friends, their schools? Could she wrench them from their father’s loving care? They adored him. She couldn’t do that to her children. Was she yet again going to have to sacrifice what she needed for others’ happiness?

Imelda turned left down a side road that was more a boreen than a road. There was a copse of trees halfway down and she pulled in and parked the car, got out and made her way to a round smooth boulder where she often liked to sit peacefully and look out across the valley. The breeze whispered through the leaves. Clusters of bluebells swayed gracefully at her feet but today Imelda, ensnared in turmoil, saw none of the beauty of Hedigan’s Wood.

‘Why?’ she roared up at the clear blue sky. ‘Why do you keep picking on me, God? What have I done to deserve this shite that you keep shovelling down on me?’ Imelda sat on the rock and put her head in her hands and wept brokenly, her body shuddering with sobs until she’d no more tears to cry. She felt sick, tired and weak. Her stomach was tied up in knots, her head beginning to pound. After she’d composed herself, she went back to the car, rooted in her bag for her cigarettes and lit up.