His father had gone straight from Belfast to Serena in London and after a fortnight sightseeing he had taken off for Australia. The twins followed him within weeks ‘just to see how it was’. I cried and cried and cried. When I stopped crying for five minutes I found enough energy to cry some more. My face was like a baboon’s backside.

Auntie Eileen threatened to get Doctor Joe Loughrey to have a look at me and the shock of that finally stopped my nonsense. Joe Loughrey listening to my heart? Joe Loughrey shining a light in my eyes? Joe Loughrey trying to ascertain the state of my mental health? No Siree Bob! I snapped to and came up with a plan of sorts on how to survive on my own.

I had all this land lying around me going to waste so I started growing ever more vegetables and fruit. The orchard was always great for apples and plums, Victoria and damson, but I have low fruit too: gooseberries, blackcurrants, redcurrants all planted now and ready to give up a fine crop next year. I had such plans for that harvest. I conserve it and distribute it to the shops in a thirty-mile radius, but not by myself. Auntie Eileen and Bernie are here three days a week and we have become Bridie’s Jams & Pickles. I think Bridie would love having her name put to such a sweet joke. I hope I’ve done her proud. I am still hers and always will be. The thought of her makes the possibility of having to return to The Hill a hundred times worse. At least here I feel she’s still near me, still able to eat me up and not even need sugar.

We have huge boiling pans set up in the milk house; Eileen and me wash and rinse and cook and bottle and Bernie puts the labels on like she has an internal spirit level – she’s a pure angel out of Heaven. Daddy drops in every day as he likes to feel he’s on hand for any heavy work and us only stewing fruit. I feed him up and he sits on the stoop and smokes himself blind while Ginger purrs fit to burst at his feet.

–  Will I empty this into that, Mary?

–  That would be a great help, thanks, Daddy. Sure, I don’t know what I’d do without you!

–  Have you anything to lift, Eileen?

–  No, Frank! But I could lift a mug of tea to my lips now that you’ve mastered boiling the kettle!

–  I’ll make a pot.