He has stopped to talk to my father. I hear the rumble of their voices and the shouts of the waynes. The wait is agony. Any minute now Bernie might start swiping scones or messing up my napkins and the whole thing will be ruined! I need to be viewed in the scene that I’ve set, the perfect wife and mother at large. Eugene runs in screaming. We’re all going to the river for a swim and then a picnic! Auntie Eileen’s delighted; she can smoke her guts out in peace in the fresh air. My mother’s eyes roll so far back with rage that I’m shocked when they roll back again.

Before I can stop it, every child has grabbed an armful of the food they want to eat and Eileen and Bernie follow them with a bottle of fizzy wine under each arm. I remember seeing a wildlife programme once where a cloud of locusts covered a field of grain in seconds. I was the last ear of corn standing, bewildered. Mammy was so happy! The whole place was trashed, so she satisfied herself by just laughing at me and my cake when she stepped out into the sunshine.

John has been in the milk house gathering up the rough rugs we keep for the fields. He sees me standing alone, chewing my lip.

–  Aren’t you coming?

–  I’d set the table … I made a cake …

–  So? Bring it, or leave it and we’ll have it when we get back!

–  No! It’s all ruined! The whole thing’s ruined …

–  Oh for God’s sake, Mary! Only you could cry over something so trivial! After everything we’ve seen this last week, it’s just typical of you not to learn the lesson! It’s a beautiful day! Life is short and when it’s gone, it’s gone!

He walked off without me, shaking his head. It was nothing to him, all that effort. I watched the set of his shoulders as he jumped the gate before striking for the river. I wanted to call out to him, to ask him to wait, but he was moving fast and soon disappeared behind the big sycamores. It was a beautiful day. The shadows of the high clouds raced along the ridge of Combover Hill and Shanagh Bog was a purple jewel in the clear, bright light. I loved it here. I loved Johns Farm and everyone on it. And I had learned a lesson – a hard one, one I would try not to forget the next time I got a soppy notion in my head. Girls like me just don’t get smiles handed to them on a plate.