Lizzie had woke up one morning and her boobs had grown two cup sizes. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing and had a total sense-of-humour bypass over it and bloody Dessie had told her to cool it: at least her arse had grown at the same time and to the same size so she wouldn’t trip over. Sheila had fetched him a good hard slap across the back of the head for his lack of understanding. I lapped up the words and the teenage drama and never felt more isolated.

–  But hang on a cotton-pickin’ minute. Are you going to tell me what went on exactly? We had a deal, Mary Rattigan: NO SECRETS.

–  It’s the oldest story in the book. Girl meets boy, girl falls under boy, boy marries her. What did you think happened?

–  Noooooooooooo! So all along it was him you fancied and not poor auld Joe Loughrey at all? But what John Johns McJohns-boy? I thought he gave you the heebie-jeebies? I don’t know why, though, he’s fuckin’ gorgeous! So you love him then or what?

–  Well, I married him.

–  But what NOW? You’re not goin’ to stay out in this countrified hellhole with a sprog and an old dear and a farmer and no runnin’ water for much longer, are you, surely?

Trust Lizzie Magee to reduce my life to a sentence. I had nothing to say for myself. I started spouting about how Serena meant the world to me and that Bridie was like an angel at my back. I couldn’t tell her that I never went into town because I couldn’t face the thought of Serena seeing soldiers and RUC with guns standing outside the sweet shop and thinking it was normal. I couldn’t tell her that every penny I had held for two years had come from John Johns and I didn’t feel I deserved to spend it. I wasn’t able to scrutinise myself in the mirror. I didn’t want to lock eyes with the startled pale face trapped there.

I only left this patch of land to go to Mass and I walked with Bridie and Serena right up to the front seat. I wanted to make sure that Father O’Brien couldn’t forget Father Martin O’Hara. I blocked out the sounds of tongues clicking in the pews. My priest always had the decency to avert his eyes after the most cursory of cursory acknowledgements and he still just looked as if he was being forgiving rather than friendly.