Mary sat in the chair, with the cape around her shoulders and Cindy undid the ribbons on the bottom of her pigtails and let her hair fall onto her shoulders.

‘You’ve got lovely hair, Mary,’ Cindy said, looking at the girl in the mirror. Mary had never been into Cindy’s, or any hairdresser’s, in her life. Deirdre had always cut her hair in the kitchen, along with the boys’. ‘Does your mam know you’re here?’ Mary shook her head. ‘I thought as much. Was it all Alice’s idea?’

Mary managed a half smile. ‘It was. She said I had to be more like you and the best way for that to happen was for you to give me a modern haircut.’

Cindy grinned. ‘Well, she’s not wrong there, I know all about haircuts. Have you seen this one?’ Cindy picked up a magazine and began to rifle through until she came to the page she was looking for. Mary gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I know,’ said Cindy, looking proud of herself. ‘It takes someone bold to have that cut, but look at her cheekbones – they’re the same as yours. You’re a chrysalis, Mary, and with the right haircut, a butterfly will appear.’

Mary’s eyes were wide. It wasn’t just the things Cindy said, it was the way she said them. Cindy was totally confident in her own skin and Mary realised that Alice was right: Mary did want to be like Cindy.

‘Don’t you dare go and knock on his mam’s door,’ Alice had told her when she’d unburdened all her woes, that Jimmy was out of prison and had made no attempt to see her. ‘I did exactly that; I knocked on Jerry’s door and it’s the wrong thing to do. Oh, I know I’m happy now and you are too young to know or remember, but we’ve been to hell and back along the way and I took people with me. Do not be me, Mary. Be more like Cindy. You go to Cindy and get her to make you look so fantastic that when you walk down the street with your head high, everyone looks at you. And if you do see Jimmy O’Prey, you look the other way and ignore him, do you hear me?’

Mary had looked as though she was about to burst into tears. Her mouth was full of custard slice and her eyes were huge. ‘I can’t,’ she’d said, through flakes of puff pastry, ‘I love him.’