A lesser woman would have looked guilty, even just a flicker, but not my ma. Her chins shot out. “And about time! That child would’ve been married and giving me great-grandchildren before you’d have lifted a finger to bring her here. Were you hoping if you waited long enough I’d die before you had to introduce us?”

The thought had crossed my mind. “She’s pretty fond of you,” I said. “What do you think of her?”

“The image of her mammy. Lovely girls, the pair of them. Better than you deserve.”

“You’ve met Olivia?” I tipped my hat to Liv, mentally. She had skated around that one very prettily.

“Twice, only. She dropped Holly and Jackie down to us. Was a Liberties girl not good enough for you?”

“You know me, Ma. Always getting above myself.”

“And look where that got you. Are the two of yous divorced now, or are yous only separated?”

“Divorced. A couple of years back.”

“Hmf.” Ma’s mouth pursed up tight. “I never divorced your da.”

Which was unanswerable on so many levels. “True enough,” I said.

“Now you can’t take Communion.”

I knew better than to rise to that, but no one can get to you quite like family. “Ma. Even if I wanted to take Communion, and I don’t, the divorce wouldn’t be a problem. I can divorce myself into a coma for all the Church cares, as long as I don’t shag anyone who’s not Olivia. The problem would be the lovely ladies I’ve ridden since the divorce.”

“Don’t be dirty,” Ma snapped. “I’m not a smart-arse like you, I don’t know all the ins and outs, but I know this much: Father Vincent wouldn’t give you Communion. In the church where you were baptized.” She jabbed a triumphant finger at me. Apparently this counted as a win.

I reminded myself that I needed a chat more than I needed the last word. I said meekly, “You’re probably right.”

“I am, of course.”

“At least I’m not raising Holly to be a heathen too. She goes to Mass.”

I thought the mention of Holly would smooth Ma down again, but this time it just put her back up further; you never can tell. “She might as well be a heathen, for all the good it’s done me. I missed her First Communion! My first granddaughter!”

“Ma, she’s your third granddaughter. Carmel’s got two girls older than her.”

“The first one with our name. And the last, by the looks of it. I don’t know what Shay’s playing at, at all—he could have a dozen girls on the go and we’d never know, he’s never brought one to meet us in his life, I swear to God I’m ready to give up on him altogether. Your da and meself thought Kevin would be the one who . . .”