Olive had sidled just inside the kitchen doorway and she remained glued to the spot as her mother busied herself at the range. It was only when Cissy turned and said sharply, ‘Bring four cups to the table, girl,’ that she forced herself to move. From the tea set displayed on the kitchen dresser she took four cups and saucers of fine bone china. The set had been a wedding present from her mother’s grandparents and as such was only used on special occasions. She placed them on the table before filling the little milk jug and sugar bowl. Her legs were wobbly and her hands were trembling and the cups had rattled in their saucers as she’d put them down, causing her father to glance up at her. She didn’t meet his gaze, neither did anyone speak until her mother had filled the cups and everyone was seated.

Father McHaffie took a sip of his tea before he spoke, his voice cold. ‘Olive has something to tell you and she asked me to be present. I must warn you it will be a shock, Mrs Morgan.’

As her mother’s eyes shot to her face Olive licked her lips. She had gone over what she was going to say umpteen times but now the moment was here she found she couldn’t speak.

Cissy, her eyes wide and questioning now, looked from her daughter’s white face to that of the priest’s, and then back to Olive again, but it was George who said quietly, ‘What is it, lass? What’s wrong?’

Olive took a deep breath as her stomach turned over. ‘It – it was on New Year’s Eve . . .’

When Ruby flung open the back door and walked into the kitchen, she was aware of several things simultaneously. Her father was sitting with his head in his hands, her mother was crying and Father McHaffie had a cup to his lips, but it was to Olive, whose head had jerked up as she’d entered, that she said, ‘I hate you. How could you, how could you do that? You’re dirty, disgusting.’

‘That is quite enough.’ Father McHaffie had put down his cup and stood up. ‘Control yourself.’

‘Control myself?’ There was no respectful ‘Father’ and neither was there any deference in Ruby’s attitude when she cried, ‘You know what she’s done and you tell me to control myself? She’s done it to spite me, she planned it, and with Adam. She doesn’t even like him, she never has, and yet she forced herself on him when he was drunk. She’s worse than any dockside dolly.’