Jeanie stared at the pictures, clearly trying to make sense of what she had just heard and what she was seeing. Eventually she shook her head.

‘Oh God, Imelda. What did she do?’

‘Did you know about the baby?’

‘Of course I did. I ran around helping her while she was pregnant, doing her shopping and keeping it a secret. She made me promise never to tell a soul. I felt sorry for her. Despite her cockiness, she seemed so lost and I was the only friend she had. But I wonder now how much of it was just an act to get what she wanted. I visited her in the maternity home the day before I went to London and she seemed fine – too fine, actually, for someone who was about to give up their child. But then maybe that was an act too – a self-preservation thing.’ Jeanie shrugged. ‘I took the bracelet as a present. I wanted the baby at least to have a name even if it was only temporary. Vivienne told me that she was handing her over for adoption and then she was going home so that her mother could find her a suitable husband.’

‘Well, it certainly seems as though she succeeded in that,’ Imelda replied ruefully.

‘I couldn’t understand why she would settle for such an empty life.’ Jeanie glanced at her watch. ‘I’m really sorry, Imelda, but I’ve got to get going. I promised Auntie Diamond I’d pop in and see her at the care home.’

‘Well, give her my love. Look, I’m having a bit of a party at mine tomorrow afternoon. It’s my birthday. Why don’t you come along and bring your husband, too. You can chat to Billie there.’

‘I’d love to!’

‘Good. Treasure’s coming so he can show you where it is.’

Jeanie got up to leave, but Imelda couldn’t let her go without asking.

‘Did Vivienne tell you who the father was?’

Jeanie looked a little sheepish. ‘She did. But it was just a one-off. That night when there was the big fight in the entertainment lounge and everything got smashed up. She was drunk, he was drunk. To be honest, I think she did it to bolster her bruised ego and he was flattered that she finally paid him some attention.’

Jeanie saw the confusion in Imelda’s face and suddenly the awful realisation dawned.

‘Oh, Jesus, Imelda! You surely never thought, never believed for one moment that it was Cillian?’

‘Happy birthday to you!’