We went to the Long Lounge and sang and drank our fill. Every time the band finished ‘The Fields of Athenry’ we demanded it again and every time the small free birds flew we cried harder and sang louder ’til our throats were raw. Lizzie managed to drag John up for a dance and she was definitely trying to get her boobs on his chest but I let it go. I owed her one for Jacques Bernier.

The next morning she phoned up with a hangover shocking enough to match my own but says she needs to chat. John Johns was already up and away to Arthur Rowley’s. I boiled the kettle. It was still only nine o’clock, it was unusual that Lizzie was awake at all, never mind up and dressed and on the road. I took a cup of tea out to the stoop and the sunshine and waited for her.

Lizzie lands after a while, my tea is cold and I sling it into the bushes at the side of the half-door as she gets out of her car. As I make tea, mashing some leaves in Bridie’s old brown pot, I can hear her sighing. She’s thoughtful, miles away and angry, and I can see a muscle twitching in her jaw when she bends too quickly to hide it. Should I bring the ghost of it into the house? Yes, yes it’s time I conjured the one stillborn dream of Lizzie Magee’s life.

–  Listen … is there any news?

I always dreaded asking her about the baby thing. She and Kenny had been trying for years, had thrown money at it, a lot of money, but nothing. She’s too old but she won’t give up. She can’t face life without a family. She looked down now to hide her face. We’d been friends since we were four – thirty-five years – but still we hid the worst of things from each other. She pretended that she would be far better off without children. We laughed when we had the courage to talk about how it would ruin her figure, a figure fleshed out with too many drinks and prescription drugs.

With her head down she told me that the last batch of IVF was another failure. The doctors were trying to get her to forget all about it. Kenny was, too, he couldn’t take much more. It made Lizzie feel like a failure. Dessie refused to stay in the room if her ‘women’s troubles’ were being discussed. It was just one of those things, God’s will or God’s joke. She sniffed and then laughed.

–  Nearly the worst of it is coping with Sheila … she’s so angry!

–  Your mammy’s a diamond. She’ll get over it, so will you …