But often it wasn’t. It wasn’t good enough that her daughter was wearing tracksuit bottoms so small they looked like shorts or that she cursed like a trooper because it was all she heard at home. It wasn’t good enough that she’d let Jeremy outside without a coat in a bleedin’ rainstorm, and it certainly wasn’t good enough that if he did get ill she didn’t know where she’d find the money for a doctor, even though she’d promised her little girl McDonald’s and a shopping trip just a week after she’d borrowed money from Lynn to get them all through Christmas. She worried about paying her back. It won’t be till February at least. Every time she shouted at or lost patience with her mother, she regretted it, and every bruise her mother received from fighting her and slamming herself off walls was Maisie’s fault. She saw how Lynn’s ma was with her: she never fought Lynn or, at least, not with the same aggression. Lynn carried herself with authority so no one messed with her. Everyone messed with Maisie.

As she squeezed the teabag, she lurched from feelings of intense anxiety (Oh, God, what have I agreed to?) to excitement (I like him. I’ve always liked him), guilt (I have no business going out on a date) and back to anxiety (Oh, God, how do I let him down?). She poured in a drop of milk, then stirred in two sugars and brought in the tea, with a plate of biscuits, to her mother, who was still staring at the TV screen. ‘Here you go, Ma, nice and strong just the way you like it.’

Bridie smiled and nodded. Maisie sat quietly next to her, her head bursting with questions. What if? Bridie sipped her tea. If you could think straight, Ma, what would you say? I wish I knew. I wish you could tell me what to do.

Bridie went to bed at seven and it was usually well after midnight before she’d start wearing a hole in the floor. Maisie was planning to be home by eleven at the latest. Bridie didn’t have to know anything about her date with Fred Brennan. She’d only worry, then forget anyway. Maisie and Bridie had never spoken about men: it just wasn’t something her mother was comfortable with.