“Miss Murphy will take refreshments with me.” Margaret almost laughed, for it was difficult to tell whether Breda or the maître d’hôtel was the more scandalised. Margaret threw the man an imperious glance worthy of her mother, which resulted in them being led into a large salon decorated in gold and cream, facing a garden, and placed at a round table in the window.

“My goodness, you didn’t half put him in his place,” Breda whispered, casting a harried glance over her shoulder, “but it’s not seemly for me to be here.”

“You must be hungry, surely.”

“Growing up in our house we were never anything else, but . . .”

“I have no desire to take tea alone. Lady Julia assures me that the Shelbourne does the best afternoon tea in Dublin. And look,” she added as the platters began to arrive, “I think she was right.”

There were smoked salmon and watercress sandwiches on soft white bread, and egg mayonnaise with cress on Irish soda bread. Buttermilk scones with cream and strawberry jam, and sticky gingerbread. There were delicate apple and blackberry pastries with Chantilly cream, and choux pastry éclairs glazed with chocolate. And there was tea, fragrant in the delicate Belleek porcelain teapot, served with lemon slices or milk.

“I can’t believe this spread is for just the two of us,” Breda said, her eyes on stalks.

It struck Margaret that it did seem an obscene amount of food, given where they had just come from. “Do you visit your mama often?” Margaret asked, serving them both a selection of sandwiches and pouring the tea.

“Once a month, on my day off if I can, and I write every week.”

“Can all of you read and write?”

“Yes, for Mammy made sure of it, and gave us all lessons even before any of us went to school. I remember we had a few books when I was learning, but they’re long gone, and she’s had to try to teach Cillian using newspapers, which is probably why he’s not doing so well. Mammy wanted to be a teacher, and had started working in the village school back in Mayo, but then she met my pa, and he’d no sooner looked at her sideways, to hear her tell the tale, than she was expecting me.”

“What a shame—oh, I don’t mean that she had you, I am very glad she did, but . . .”

“Ah, well, not long after that the famine came, and the village school closed and that’s when my father brought us all to Dublin.” Breda finished her salmon sandwich, and Margaret helped her to a scone. “Thank you, my lady. Mammy was talking of teaching again, when Cillian was a bit older, but my father did not approve and now he has given her Liam to take care of, so that’s that.”