‘What he said.’ Dad nodded. ‘It’s short for “Gucci”, he tells me.’

All very amiable.

Moving from their wholesome harmony back to the smoking-ruins vibe of the Good Front Room, Anna, delicious in a silk kimono, was asking, ‘Should I get the gin?’

‘Jesus Christ, no.’ Margaret, in blue tartan pyjamas, twisted her head to one side.

‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘None of you are ever drinking again?’

‘Oh shut up!’ Mum cried. ‘You smug lump.’

‘Hey!’ Helen’s voice emerged from the depths of a black hooded dressing gown. ‘She gets one night a century to be smug, let her have it.’

‘Is there anything for an upset stomach?’ Margaret asked Mum.

‘Look in the kitchen. They’re in the fruit basket.’

‘Bring painkillers too,’ Helen called after her.

‘What do you need?’ Claire opened up her handbag. ‘I’ve got them all.’

Margaret had returned with the fruit basket, which contained an apologetic handful of fly-spotted grapes, one shrunken kiwi fruit and a veritable cornucopia of pills. ‘Okay. Who needs what?’

‘Something to stop the gawks,’ Helen said.

‘Motilium?’

‘Anything stronger?’

Margaret rummaged. ‘Stemetil?’ She read from a box. ‘They’re on prescription. They’d be good.’

‘Rachel.’ Mum’s face loomed at me, alarmingly close. ‘You don’t think they thought I was showing off?’

‘Who?’

‘Anyone. Everyone.’

‘She has the Fear,’ Claire said. ‘So do I.’

‘And me,’ said Margaret, then Anna.

‘Me too,’ Helen said.

‘But you weren’t even drinking.’

‘Yeah. But…’ It was the stress of trying to get pregnant. I understood.

‘Any tranquillizers in that fruit basket?’ Claire asked.

‘Diazepam?’ Margaret asked.

‘That’s Valium,’ Claire said. ‘Give me two. No, make it six.’

Mum cut in. ‘How d’you know I’ve the Fear?’

‘Describe your state of mind.’

‘…Tremendously ashamed. Even though I’m not sure what I did wrong. Like everyone was secretly laughing at me, at all the money we spent on the steak and the gold-leaf—’

‘—that’s definitely the Fear—’

‘—and nobody likes me. So I’m deleting them all from my will. I think someone must have told them I only got a C in History in my Leaving Cert, even though I always said I got a B.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘And everyone thinks I’m too tall—’

‘You are.’ From Helen, of course.

‘—and my nose is too fat. And—’

‘Ah, stop,’ I said. ‘Last night you drank a lot and used far too much adrenaline, leaving you with a huge deficit today. It’s simple science. None of those thoughts are true. Keep your will as it is.’

Mum shifted her attention to me. ‘What about you? Claire says that Captain Spork broke it off.’

‘Dr Spork!’ From Helen.

‘Well, we both agreed that—’

‘Are you back with Luke?’

‘No, but I’m okay.’

‘How, though?’ Mum was distraught. ‘Now you’ve no boyfriend!’