Peggy narrowed her eyes. ‘Did he now? With what, may I ask? Does he think I have a magic pot in the outhouse or a fecking tree in the yard that grows ten-shilling notes for leaves?’ Peggy’s voice was rising, but she lacked her usual energy and suddenly the heat left her face. She passed the back of her hand across her brow and said, ‘Paddy, you need to get out. My nerves can’t stand anyone around today. Go on, get out. Forget your da and the tobacco, unless I’ve not heard and Simpsons are giving it away for free now.’

Peggy pushed the chair back and stood up straight with her hand in the middle of her lower back. Little Paddy saw her wince with pain as he stepped closer to deliver the rest of the message from his father.

‘Da also said to say his back is really bad, and he said the smokes help him, Ma…’

Peggy looked straight at her son and her eyes, for a brief moment, seemed far away.

‘Is that what he said? Well, he should try having my back for a day. Funny how his only lasts until opening time at the Anchor, isn’t it? Your father makes an amazing recovery then, every afternoon. Must be a miracle that. Don’t you worry about your da, or his baccy, leave him to me, Paddy.’

Peggy’s eyes softened as she looked down at her son. Not blessed with a daughter to help share the load, she often felt resentful towards those neighbours who did. The thought of Deirdre Malone, from Tipperary of all places, blessed with a firstborn like Mary, filled her with a burning sense of injustice. What was the Holy Mother thinking, leaving her like this, broke and with the worst case of fibroids the doctor at St Angelus had ever come across in a woman her age? With only boys she couldn’t even get out to work because there would be no one to look after the little ones while she was gone.

‘You gave Maura three daughters,’ she often said to the statue of Mary in church and then moved swiftly into the confessional, having coveted what another woman had, a woman who acted like a saint towards her at that. And then Maura’s Kitty died, breaking all of their hearts and Angela, the second born stepped into her place. It was as if God knew Maura would require a daughter in reserve and had then provided for the Dohertys a second time, with the hugest windfall they never knew was coming from their surprise relatives in America.