MARJORIE SPENT HER MORNING in the hairdresser’s getting her hair washed, cut and blow-dried. Gillian her hairdresser mentioned a few grey hairs and talked about touching them up with a little blonde the next time they saw one another. Shite. That’s the start of it, any day now . . . menopause. Next she went to her local beauty salon for a bikini wax and painted nails.

She told herself she was going to all this trouble because she was starting her new job on Monday. Gotta look good. The redundancy payout had allowed her the time and space to work out where she wanted to be and what she wanted to do. In the end, after weeks of research, she heard about the job through an old retired work colleague. The Irish Entrepreneurs Enterprise Group were looking for someone with a finance background to join their team. The aim of the group was to support start-ups with their business planning, getting them access to seed capital, introducing them to angel investors and generally making sure they were networked to the right people so that they had the best chance of succeeding. It wasn’t the boutique that she’d once daydreamed of owning, but it felt perfect now.

When she got the interview she reached out to every contact she knew for information and guidance and studied the company set-up for two weeks solid. Marjorie walked into that company knowing more about it than the CEO interviewing her. She knew the job was hers even before she left.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ the CEO said as he shook her hand, and she walked out onto the street by the canal.

Yeah, you will.

Twenty-four hours later she received the news. ‘The job is yours.’

She had money in the bank, a new and exciting job; the country and the economy were finally turning a corner and, best of all, her mother was back on her feet with the aid of a walking stick. She hadn’t cleaned shit in months. It’s a new dawn, a new day and a new life for me. For the first time in a long time Marjorie Shaw was feeling good.

Over the year Marjorie had built a relationship with her mother based on searing honesty and mild aggression. When she arrived at her mother’s house with news of her new job the woman almost seemed happy for her.

‘The Irish Entrepreneurs Enterprise Group! That sounds like a made-up job,’ Vera said.

‘Every job is a made-up job.’

‘Milking cows isn’t a made-up job.’

‘Fine, I’ll milk cows, then.’

‘It’s better than being unemployed, I suppose,’ Vera said, and that was as close to congratulations as Marjorie could hope for.

‘Yes, Ma, it is,’ she said happily. ‘And if you’re lucky I’ll take you out to Sunday lunch.’

‘Fine, then, but somewhere decent – the place we went to last time smelled of old people.’