Margaret Rose groaned.

‘No, tell me about the Sunday, Ann Sunday. When Ann came back Sunday. She’s not here, Jane, remember?’

‘Ah, ah, yes, poor Ann. Oh, yes, a Friday, a Friday is a great day for a new beginning, because if it doesn’t work out, you can start again on Monday. Clean sheet.’

‘Slate,’ I said.

We laughed.

‘That awful man was the Bishop of Galway with his cigars and champagne.’

Lucid.

‘Browne?’

‘Yes, him …’ Jane said, cowering.

‘He was a bastard,’ Margaret Rose said.

‘Oh, yes, most correct, a terrible man. He liked to be called My Lord, you see? Yes, a bastard. And we were not doing so well,’ Jane said, sharply. ‘None of us … Women.’ She took a long breath. ‘Ann was in trouble … and … just like that she handed herself over.’

It was the early fifties and the world was all a secret affair, after the wars, turn of the decade after the terrible war. Bishop Browne was at the helm here for Virtue and Money and General of Misogyny, for with a complicit family and a complicit society, and God plonked at the centre of everything, schools, kitchens, doctors’ clinics, garages, shops, marts, sacred heart on every kitchen wall, red light, mea-all-culpa, we could once and for all solve the problem of fallen women, hoorish women, pretty women, pregnant women, poor women, women, girls, we could put an end to the shame they were bringing, for the bother with the fucking outside of marriage; no property rights; no rights to their children; rarely rape sanctions (or mentions); no drinking in bars; no drinking out of pint glasses; no pill; no property; no money; no married job in the civil service; no sitting on a jury; no free health care; no church after birthing a baby without a churching; breaking of pelvises; sterilisations without consent – list is not exhaustive.

Who made the world? God made the world. Oh my God, I thank you for loving me, I am sorry for all my sins. It has been one week since my last confession. Oh my God, I am sorry if I have offended thee. Oh my God, I am bleeding. Oh dear Jesus, I have not bled. Oh dear and gentle Jesus. Save me. I am your sinner. I am sorry for greatly offending thee. Save me. Glory be. Blessed be the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.