‘Look, Marj, you got unlucky – your ma’s a nutjob,’ she said. Then she sat Marjorie down with Molly Hayes, who explained that her mother’s broken fanny was not her fault but the fault of the doctor who botched up her birth.

‘And to be honest, love, your mammy was a miserable bitch before you were ever born. I’m sorry to say it but it’s true.’ That made Marjorie smile.

‘And Theresa Shea had one of those; she’s in bits as well but she loves her kids, you know why?’ she asked Marjorie when she was ten years old. Marjorie shook her head.

‘Because Theresa Shea isn’t a miserable bitch.’

Marjorie laughed again and then she cried, and Molly hugged her tight, and that was the first time she’d looked into Marjorie’s face and said those words that meant the world. ‘Who loves ya, Marjorie?’

‘Molly does.’

Rabbit, Molly and the Hayes family saved Marjorie from a life of loneliness and pain both before and after her father ran out on her.

‘Marjorie, did you hear me? It’s your father here.’

‘I heard you,’ she said, and for a fleeting instant she wondered if he had heard of Rabbit’s death and was reaching out to her, finally being her dad. Then she thought about it: how did he get this number? He must have read her thoughts.

‘One of your bank colleagues gave me your number after I explained the circumstances,’ he said.

‘What circumstances?’ she asked.

‘Your mother had a stroke today.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘She had a stroke.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I’m still noted as her next of kin.’

Two thoughts crashed into Marjorie’s head. 1. Oh shit, a stroke, and 2. Of course he is, it’s only been twenty-five bloody years.

‘Did you hear me, Marjorie?’

‘I heard you,’ she said dully, still processing what was happening.

‘She’s in the Mater Hospital.’

‘How did you know I worked in the bank?’ Marjorie asked.

‘Does it matter?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Your friend Rabbit tracked me down a few years ago and wrote to me, told me about you and how you were doing.’

‘Why?’

‘She said she wanted me to know what I was missing.’

‘She didn’t ask you to come and see me?’ Marjorie asked, agog.

‘No, she was very explicit about me staying away.’

Marjorie started to cry. He remained silent and waited for her to stop.

‘Have you seen Mam?’ The words were uttered before she had thought things through.

‘I live in the UK, Marjorie,’ he said in a tone that suggested he believed her to be dumb.

‘’Course you do.’

‘I just wanted to let you know, so that she’s not alone,’ he said.

‘That’s big of you,’ she said, finally mustering some sarcasm.

‘Sorry.’

‘Fine.’

‘Really, I am sorry.’

‘Dad?’

‘Yes, Marjorie?’

‘Go fuck yourself,’ she said, loud and proud, Molly Hayes-style.