‘Seems as though someone was having a good look,’ he said, flicking his head backwards.

Maggie sighed. ‘Jimmy gets out of jail any day now. She won’t get the chance to change his sheets before he’s back in again.’

‘Is that so? Can you get the news on those, then,’ he asked, nodding and grinning at her wire curlers. ‘Or, do they tingle if it’s going to rain?’

Maggie grinned. ‘Oh stop, will you! I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then?’ She always did, but she had to know.

He was reluctant to leave, to surrender to the remainder of the day. ‘You will, as always. What would my morning be without you?’ Two heartbeats skipped, the air held still, the seagulls silenced… Then, ‘I’d be gasping for a cuppa,’ and life returned to normal. He tore himself away and with his own heart heavy, walked briskly towards number 42.

*

Maggie watched him go. She patted the headscarf that was supposed to conceal her wire curlers. Maybe I should start taking my curlers out and putting on a bit of lippy in the mornings, she thought. She could count on one hand the times she had applied lipstick during the last two decades. Well, it was time for a perm so she would call in to Cindy the hairdresser on the parade and ask her for a lesson in the modern way of wearing make-up. It was all blue eyelids, sweeping eyeliner and shimmering pink lips these days and she had no idea where to start, but she could try. Unbidden, she imagined Eric in her bed – and the vision was so vivid, that, as she closed her eyes, she heard the mattress creak. Felt his hands, on which her eyes had lingered only seconds before, roaming along the length of her thighs, his lips, pressing down on hers, his breathing, deep and urgent, the smell of him, sweet and cold, the weight of his body, moving closer… His fingertips parted her willing knees – and just as that delicious thought grew in her mind, Sister Evangelista marched across the bottom of Nelson Street with Deirdre Malone following in her wake.

‘Will I see you at mass, Mrs Trott?’ Sister Evangelista called as she raised her hand. Maggie gave a guilty start and called back, ‘You will indeed, Sister! I’ll be on my way in just a minute.’ She stepped back indoors and slammed the door, redemption from her wicked thoughts just around the corner, which meant that she was entirely free to indulge herself on another day soon.

Chapter Two

The west coast of Ireland