‘Please. Mind you, the main reason they moved was showing off, to be honest.’

‘Oh?’

‘Robbie liked the idea of a grand home. “Every man wants a castle,” he’d say. And this’ – she waves a hand around my kitchen – ‘this was his castle. They had one child and didn’t plan on having more, so you’d wonder why they needed a five-bedroom house with a huge garden. But the old house was a bungalow with a postage-stamp patch of grass – wouldn’t have suited the garden parties.’ She rolls her eyes, but there’s affection in it. ‘They did have one dinner in the old house and it was a little, shall we say, below par.’

‘You knew them before they lived here?’ I pass her a coffee.

‘Well, yes. They were in Rowanbrook then too. A little bungalow in the Grove. Mary called it “Santa Cruz”, after her hometown.’

‘Santa Cruz? I feel like I’ve heard of it.’

‘Oh yes, it’s quite a big town on the west coast of America.’

I smile. ‘No, I meant a house called Santa Cruz.’

‘Ah, of course. Will you name this house? Maybe you could choose something linked to your childhood – your home in London? If it’s not too painful of course.’ A sad headshake, a touch of the arm. Oh, why did I ever start this. ‘Or use your family name maybe? Kirk? How about … Kirkwood. Kirkville?’

Oh Lord. ‘Hmm. It doesn’t sound quite as pretty as Santa Cruz … Oh – I remember now where I heard it – a mum from Ben’s class who was here at our housewarming. She lives in it now.’

‘Did I meet her?’

‘Liz Landry is her name?’

‘No. But maybe don’t tell her I called her garden a scrubby little yard,’ she says with a grin.

Even Susie, it turns out, sometimes has a filter.

37

June 1985

THE HAMMERING ON THE front door caught everyone by surprise – it wasn’t the kind of thing you expected in Rowanbrook on a sunny Sunday evening, in the middle of a perfectly civil dinner party. Mary felt a chill as Robbie got up and walked out to the hall. The banging stopped for a second or two, then resumed, but louder. And now a voice, shouting Robbie’s name.

‘That’s Eddie bloody Hogan,’ Tom Stedman said in surprise. ‘What on earth’s up with him?’

As a unit, they sat quietly around the dining table, holding a collective breath – all but Ruth, who was standing, ready to leave. On some level, Mary knew that she should get up and close the dining room door and pour more wine and start conversation, but she was riveted to the spot as Eddie’s words rang through from outside.

‘I know you’re in there, Murphy. Come out and show your face!’

‘Whatever it is, it can wait till you’re calmer,’ Robbie called through the closed front door.

‘Don’t you dare tell me what to do!’ Eddie roared. ‘After what you did?’