It was good news about his back: it wasn’t broken and his spine was fine now that the bruising had gone down. He was going to stay away for a while because there were other things he had to sort out, physiotherapy and such. I was to send Shane and Daniel up as soon as I could spare them, John needed to talk to his boys. Swallowing the salty disappointment of being stood down after only seven days was not easy. Swallowing anything wasn’t easy, the razor blades in my throat cut a bit deeper. I felt like I’d had a good hard slap, one that I didn’t see coming, and the sting of it stayed with me.

–  That’s all good news, isn’t it, Mary? says Eileen. Mary? Mary? Where are you going?

I had nowhere to go but the vegetable patch. I sank down in its rich dark earth and gathered handfuls of the clay in my fists. I’d lost Roisin out here, her spirit was in this soil. How I wish she had grown. He would have stayed for her, she would only be nine now, she’d need her daddy. Then the answer came to me, burning through the fog in front of my eyes. I hadn’t atoned enough for my sin! My Serena and how she came to be was the starting pistol for the race I’d been running for decades! Only Joe Loughrey could let me rest. He was always going to be my key. I would walk to Brooky Hay. I needed to say I was sorry.

Little dots of purple orchids stood proud at the foot of the hollow. They swam in and out of focus as I tried to steady myself against the trunk of the oak tree. The top of it swayed, sending ripples through the ferns as I looked up. I was dizzier still as I let my feet turn for the house that Joe Loughrey had bought.

It was a two-storey, yellow-painted affair ringed all around with a tarmac moat, a strip of what would be a flower bed and some stark metal fences. The ground had been dug up and left ready for a lawn but so far only one hopeful thistle bloomed. Enormous windows showed featureless beige rooms with acres of beige carpet. I could imagine his mammy wafting from room to room with a can of roses holstered in each cardigan pocket like a demented gunslinger. The breath rasped painfully in my throat at the memory of it.

When I walked on up, he was at his car, rummaging in the boot for something among a pile of boxes.

–  Hello, Joe.