She was eighteen and hadn’t found the ‘man of her dreams’. It was the week after she’d driven up to Johns Farm and I had Serena on my hip and tall tales of how great married life was. I had looked so happy, she tells me, looked so lovely standing outside my little house with my gorgeous girl and with John Johns in the bag; she thought she would die of jealousy. She’d been feeling sorry for me and missing me and all along I’d been doing more than fine without her. I was living our schoolgirl dream of being in love and having a husband.

She just couldn’t wait another day to catch me up. She couldn’t wait any longer for a ride! If she waited one minute more she’d be on the shelf forever. She was behind the times; no one was a virgin any more. Green with envy, she went off to Bundoran with none other than Scrumptious Connolly. She kept him out of the bar long enough to get herself and him into a caravan in the Star of the Sea camping site and took every precaution known to womankind, rubber johnnies included, and still got herself knocked up.

Sheila and Dessie sent her to England for ‘the treatment’ when she went crying to them. They turned into strangers, into statues; she couldn’t get through to them! She kept telling them it was okay, Mary had a baby and it’s okay, I saw her! But it was not okay for Sheila and Dessie, not okay at all.

They had only been letting on that they didn’t mind because I was nothing to do with them. The muck all stuck on me. She had never even seen them in a bad temper before; she was so shocked, she could hardly believe what they were telling her to do. It has never been discussed since.

All through the IVF, the constant heartache and the little babies who only stayed for a few weeks, it was never referred to: a non-event. Sheila and Dessie blamed Lizzie for her stupidity and never took an ounce of responsibility for their part in covering it up.

–  I’m surprised John Johns didn’t tell you, she says, he took me home when he found me doubled up with cramps at the bus station. I nearly bled to death. I had on white jeans, can you bloody believe that? I wanted to look nice on the boat!

–  Oh, Lizzie!

–  I was so mortified. John had to half-carry me to the front door. He never said a word but he knew exactly what was going on.