It was the same mantra I’d heard from Derek, almost word for word. I took a sip of my now cold tea and changed the subject. “Do you work for the charity too?” I found myself using the tone in which I’d ask a child what they wanted to be when they grew up. I wasn’t sure why.

But it worked. Her expression softened and she seemed pleased. “I’m an interior designer.”

It occurred to me that maybe it wasn’t something she was asked very often; she was a woman who’d lived in the shadow of her husband. “What kind of work do you do?”

“Anything I’m asked, to be honest. I did our home.” She paused, and her eyes welled up again. She dabbed at them with the tissue. “I enjoyed doing it so much that I started doing it for our friends. Bob even arranged to have my services raffled in some of the charity auctions he’s done, so that’s kept me busy …”

She trailed off and I was distracted by Derek getting up from his seat. He brushed by us with an urgency that was verging on rude, and Phyllis and Liam looked up too, frowning, as if he’d left in the middle of a conversation. I had a feeling I’d overheard Liam talking up the golf club. I watched him stride across the floor to the bathrooms at the back of the pub and with an effort I returned to my chat with Amanda.

“You must have spent a lot of your time going to balls and charity functions.”

She nodded. “Bob loved them; but then he was the life and soul of the party, me not so much. I’m more of an introvert really, but he coaxed me out of my shell.” She smiled sadly. “Made me travel.”

“I saw that he worked in Nigeria. Were you with him?”

She touched her collar bone; the skin there was pink and blotchy as if she’d been rubbing it. She did that now, scratching at a raw patch just above her neckline as if she wasn’t even aware she was doing it. “Yes, we lived there for three years. We were very happy there. We adopted two children.”

And with that I adjusted my mental image of their family. Oisín and Finn were not typically African names.

She gazed at the wall again. “Two lovely boys. I wouldn’t have wanted a girl. Girls can be such bitches.”

The language seemed at odds with her appearance, and the venom in her voice made me flinch. But she didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, her eyes filled. “It’s so hard being trapped here, not being able to give them a hug. I’ve spoken to them on the phone, but it nearly makes it worse.”

“I can only imagine.”