Imelda smiled, remembering how many of her early boyfriends Shunty-Mae had disliked or simply frightened away. But she had always been right. She had approved of Cillian.

Esther finished her champagne and stood up. ‘Now darling, is it time for our annual cigarette?’

Outside, the garden air was thick with swirling mist and in the slate sky above them a crescent moon played hide and seek behind the drifting clouds. Imelda lit their Sobranie Black Russian cocktail cigarettes with a silver lighter. It was the ritual the friends enjoyed as much as the smoking itself, having both given up the habit years ago.

‘Do you still think about him?’ Esther asked and then blew a trio of perfect smoke rings into the mist.

‘Cillian Byrne?’

Esther nudged her with her elbow. ‘Yes, of course. Cillian Byrne.’

‘More so now that Billie has turned up.’

‘And are you okay with all this digging up of the past?’

Imelda sighed. ‘She has the right to know, Esther.’

‘Yes, but what about you? I’d hate to see you end up as collateral damage in this affair.’

She threw her arm around Imelda’s shoulders. ‘No pun intended,’ she added and gave Imelda an affectionate squeeze.

‘I’ll be fine. It was all such a long time ago. And to be honest, I’ve never been sure if he was the love of my life or my biggest mistake.’

Esther took a final puff and then crushed out her cigarette underfoot.

‘My Solomon was both. But I still miss him dreadfully. Every day.’

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Now

‘What’s in here?’

Billie peered into a small cubbyhole in the wall that was revealed after she took down a framed print of an elegant woman walking a borzoi dog. Imelda emerged, closely followed by Mabel, from behind the half-drawn curtain that screened the back room.

‘Secrets,’ she replied.

It was late January and outside brutal waves battered the stony beach and gulls battled to pilot a course against the combatant gusts of a winter gale. Imelda had eventually decided to lease the front of the booth to Billie for a trial period of six months on the condition that she, Imelda, would continue dukkering in the back room and that Billie was able to come up with an appropriate business idea. Billie had proposed selling vintage seaside souvenirs, paraphernalia and ephemera and Imelda had approved.

‘Secrets? What kind of secrets?’