The play itself was a chore – no spirit, no excitement, no life. The exact opposite of Lucy. It was an extensive history of Irish women played by two female characters. Every time you thought you got rid of them, they pulled themselves up and gasped another agonising breath. Several sections were written in verse for a Greek chorus. There were scenes where women rose out of the soil; a scene where the two girls lay face down on carpets. The play couldn’t accommodate all the misery that was in it. Natasha felt greyer after finishing it. She took out a red pen and begin drawing lines through sentences, rearranging words. An hour passed before she realised what she was doing.

‘I know how to do this,’ she said, in shock. ‘How do I know how to do this?’

The boy looked up and gave his most elaborate sniff yet.

‘I’m trying to study,’ he said.

‘That won’t help you in life,’ Natasha said, with weary finality. ‘You should stand up, put your pricey jacket on and walk the streets.’

‘I will call the library police.’

Natasha left the library with Abortion, A Love Story tucked under her arm, the sheets ruffling in the wind. She knew she couldn’t perform the play with Lucy. They would be laughing stocks. She thought about the most sensitive way to tell her. She rang the doorbell to Lucy’s student house but there was no answer. She knelt down and called into the letterbox.

‘Lucy.’

She knew Lucy was leaning on the other side of the door.

‘Lucy,’ she said, ‘I’ve just been to the library.’

‘That place is an antique,’ Lucy said, softly.

‘I want to praise your play. I liked its anger. I liked in the second act when the women call the college a prison. I think you’ve done a tremendous job. You said everything you need to say, in language that sometimes makes sense. And the completion of great work is its own reward. You don’t need to take it any further. You came close. It’s enough to know you nearly got there. ‘

Lucy opened the door. Her hair was wild and her face was tear-stained. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not enough. Why isn’t it enough?’

Natasha knew just from looking at her, that this was a woman in the grip of a great dependency. ‘Let’s see what we can do,’ she said.

*