‘It was Lorcan Gallagher. Harry’s grandson. I think I told you he was over here for a few weeks – staying with his grandad. Well, I met him on the quay and we got talking. He wanted to see the Derry Girls mural, so I offered to take him, and then we did one of the walking tours. I’m so embarrassed by how little I knew about my own city. Lorcan wanted to know about where his dad grew up, and it was nice day, and I wasn’t working, so I offered to take him.’ Jo knew she was rambling, but she figured if she kept talking, then she denied her mother the chance to ask more probing questions. She didn’t want to have to try and put a definition on anything to do with Lorcan other than they had met, as two people at a loose end, and had spent some time together.

Her mother appraised her carefully. ‘Well, it sounds like you had a nice day and I’m glad of it. You didn’t seem like yourself yesterday, and Dad told me you spoke to him earlier. He worries about you, you know.’

‘I’m fine, honest. Today did me the power of good,’ she smiled.

‘Did you see Libby?’ her mother asked. ‘I saw her and all she could do was rave about that book of yours. Do you think you might let me read it at some stage?’

Jo shifted in her seat. ‘Hmm. At some stage. Yes.’ Perhaps, she thought, when she moved away to a different continent – preferably somewhere without WIFI – where she couldn’t see or hear her mother’s reaction.

‘I look forward to it. I’ve always known you’d a talent for writing. All those wee stories you cobbled together when you were younger. All those notebooks you have. You had the spark then. Maybe we should’ve encouraged it more…’

Jo reached out and gave her mum’s hand a squeeze. ‘You’ve always encouraged me, Mum. You and Dad both. In everything I’ve done. You didn’t even bat an eyelid when I cleared off to Spain to work, or when I came home again looking as if I had been on a two-year bender.’

‘Which you kind of had been…’ her mum said with a soft smile.

‘So no guilt about encouraging me or not. I think I only just realised how much I wanted this, and that I wanted to really go for it properly recently. Like really recently. And, on that note.’ She paused, and took a deep breath before speaking – aware that once she said it, it would all feel real. ‘I’ve received an email from Ewan McLachlan.’

‘You have?’ Her mother sat forward, her hands on her knees, her voice giddy with excitement. ‘Well, what did it say?’

Jo shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t read it yet.’