They had to leave me with no hugs, no kisses, no swearing, no boiled sweets, no reassurances that it would be alright, one day, with just one gift. Granda Ban had been told; he had nothing to say, no words of wisdom or condemnation, but he sent me Granny Moo’s ancient brown handbag. When she was still with us, it was used to transport her unopened packet of linen handkerchiefs, her rosary beads and a bottle of smelling salts. Auntie Eileen and me managed a giggle over it. If one fails, try the other, she said before she set herself and Kathleen off crying again and they both had to run out. I’m left holding the bag ’til I feel a sort of tremor from it that would normally scare the bejesus out of me but which is oddly comforting as I let it travel through me, a sort of feathery hug from beyond the grave.

The ceremony had been set for 3pm to keep Mammy’s dreaded gawkers to a minimum. My family were pinned behind their paper roses: white for the boys, red for the girls. Kathleen, Matthew and Mick were there but Liam, Brendan and Dominic weren’t coming back. Auntie Vi and Auntie Harriet had shown up nice and early to enjoy Sadie’s disgrace and were corralled in the Good Room.

Mammy had gone as far as Derry to get herself an outfit, braving the petrol bombs and rubber bullets, to secure enough polyester to cover her arse as the Mother of the Bride. I hear it rustling against her petticoat as she comes up the stairs.

–  Why are you not dressed yet? It’s nearly time.

–  Are you going to make me go through with this?

–  Yes, I am, no better woman for the job!

–  I can’t marry John Johns! We’ve not spoken more than two words to each other our whole lives.

–  So? You should be grateful there’s anyone willing to take you at all.

–  But I’m only sixteen! Sixteen! I can’t get married. Please, please, I’m begging you to see sense! I’ll give it away! I’ll give it to Eileen! Anything …

I didn’t think she’d slap me on this day. It would ruin the photos. I was wrong. Bam! I held my face; it was on fire. It was always worse when you didn’t see it coming. Mentioning Auntie Eileen was like waving a red rag at a bull.

–  Babies are from Good Holy God. Your father will do his duty today; he will walk you up the aisle, which is a lot better than throwing you out into the street where you belong, Mary Rattigan, do you understand me? You’re getting off lightly. Now dry your eyes and get dressed.