Maisie was anxious. Earlier that afternoon she had stood in front of her wardrobe at a loss as to what to wear. She didn’t want to look stupid or cheap. She couldn’t afford to have people looking down on her because if they did they would look down on her son and be less likely to help. I’m not the low-life you think I am. She had showered, washed her hair and blow-dried it so that the curls sat properly on her head. She had put on make-up and painted her nails. This is too important to just sit there snivelling. She wanted Jeremy to see that she’d made an effort. It would mean something to him.

She had picked out a pretty dress for Valerie. It was white with splashy red roses on it so she’d matched it with a red cardigan, black tights and black patent shoes.

‘I look like a thick.’

‘You look beautiful.’

Valerie didn’t argue: she was too nervous. ‘Do you think I should curl me hair like yours, Ma?’

‘Your hair is perfect as it is.’ Maisie had smoothed down her daughter’s straight brown hair.

‘Do ya think me da will know me, Ma?’ she’d whispered.

‘I do.’ Her stomach twisted some more.

Bridie had been quiet, but after Valerie had left the room she’d sidled up to Maisie. ‘Maisie, Danny Fox is Valerie’s da.’

‘Yes, Ma.’

‘I don’t understand, Maisie.’

‘He’s come to help find Jeremy.’

‘He won’t help, Maisie. He won’t help at all.’ Bridie’s trembling hands flitted up to cover her mouth.

Maisie took her mother’s hands in hers and held them tight. ‘Ma, please. I’m doing my best.’

‘I’m sorry for you then.’ Bridie had pulled away, walked into her room and slammed the door.

Now it made sense that Bridie had followed her to the press conference: she would never allow them to face Danny alone. God love you, Ma, you’re still doing your best, even if you’ve no idea what you’re fuckin’ doing here.

Bridie was sitting at a desk, staring into space, whatever sense she arrived with now lost. Danny was in the classroom next door and Valerie was like a hen on a hot griddle. She was walking around the room picking things up, dropping them, then walking some more.

‘There you are, Ma,’ Maisie said.

‘You look so beautiful, Maisie.’

‘Thanks, Ma.’

‘I don’t want you marrying him.’

‘What?’

‘I know you’re pregnant, Maisie, but I don’t like him. He’s not right for you, love.’

‘You’re pregnant?’ Valerie said.

‘No, love. Grammy’s just confused.’

‘Some people are incapable of causing anything but pain,’ Bridie said.

‘Is she saying Da’s one of those people?’ Valerie said, on the verge of tears again.

‘Ma …’

‘I’m sorry, love.’ Bridie ignored her daughter’s interjection.