Assumpta had been sexually active since her early teens. Her reputation meant nothing to her. She was a Costello and that had given her the power over everyone in her orbit since she could remember. Everyone was nice to them because they were Costellos – no other reason. She had started sleeping around to prove to herself that she could transcend the Costello name. If only she knew then what she knew now.

She was already four months gone, and all she wanted was for her dad to make it go away and let her start her life again, properly this time, sensibly, with the gift of hindsight. Now she knew the pitfalls, she was more than willing to learn her lesson. Whatever it took, she would do it.

‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

Patrick closed his eyes in distress. She sounded so young, so innocent. This was his baby, his first-born. This was the girl who adamantly refused to give him the name of her child’s father.

He gulped at his whisky. Then he said as calmly as humanly possible, ‘Just tell me who the father is. That is all I want to know.’

Assumpta swallowed down her annoyance. If he only knew the circumstances, he might understand her reluctance to broadcast it to the nation. But if he did, he would realise that she couldn’t say exactly who the father was. She had a vague idea, going by the dates, but that wasn’t going to be enough for her father. ‘I wish I could turn back time, Dad. But I can’t, no one can. I just want the opportunity to put this behind me and start again.’

Patrick turned around then, and looked at his daughter. She was so pretty, all tits and teeth – a real brahma. Her hair was thick and shiny, her eyes were deep blue, and she had his mum’s high cheekbones. She was a Costello all right – physically, anyway.

‘You’re having this fucking baby, Assumpta – get that through your thick head. As a Catholic, I can’t believe that you ever thought otherwise. If you don’t have your baby, Assumpta, I will cut you off from this family without a second fucking thought. I swear that to you in the name of the Christ Child Himself. I will never forgive you as long as you live. You will be as dead to me as the child you murdered.’

It was over. Patrick Costello looked at his daughter and knew that he had finally beaten her. His threat to cut her off had frightened her more than anything else. That troubled him, but he firmly believed that the child would be the making of her. It was the only thing left that could redeem her in his eyes.