Kathleen, with her back to Alice, raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips and pointedly rolled her eyes to Jerry, nodding her head in the direction of Alice, a gesture Jerry chose to ignore as he glanced over to the fireside chair to see if Nellie had heard. As always, Nellie was sitting forward in the chair, elbows resting on the wooden arms, her fingers in her ears, absorbed in her book. An only child for a long while before Joseph arrived, with a lively imagination, Nellie lived her life vicariously through the characters in her books.

Jerry sat back down as Kathleen placed a bowl of bread-and-butter pudding covered in hot, thick, yellow custard down on the table and Kathleen bent her head into his line of vision, silently mouthing something at him in an exaggerated manner, her lips pursing and stretching. He looked down at his plate. These conversations always went the same way: Jerry told Kathleen he couldn’t hear what she was saying and to speak up, quickly followed by Alice chirping in with, ‘She can’t, Jerry, she’s talking about me. If she speaks up, I’ll know what it is she’s saying, won’t I, Jerry? And I’m not supposed to, am I, Kathleen?’

And that would be it – by trying to avoid the very situation he did not want to be involved in, he’d find himself slap bang in the middle of an almighty row between the two women of the house.

Kathleen gave up trying to get Jerry on side and answered Alice instead.

‘What in God’s name is wrong with you? Do you think the stork has a particular fancy for the four streets, given how many babies are dropped here? Do you think it favours Shelagh and Seamus because it gets a cup of tea and a couple of lemon puffs for its trouble? There’s no shame in what I said. Seamus and Shelagh make their babies the same way as everyone else and she’s getting too old to be carrying on so they need to cut it out. It’s only for Shelagh’s own good. I don’t care what they get up to, but they have more than enough mouths to feed. Jerry, you agree with me, don’t you?’

Jerry played it safe. ‘Mam, don’t involve me. What do I know?’

Kathleen huffed and gave her son a look that had turned his blood cold when he was just a boy. She continued, unperturbed, ‘Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, Alice…’