When her mother’s hand shot out and grabbed her hair she stifled a scream, knowing it was best to take whatever she dished out as quietly as possible. Begging annoyed her, as did screaming in agony, trying to escape, and attempting to talk your way out of things. Once her mother had you by the hair, you were all but finished.

‘How long? How long have you been going behind my back?’ This was her mother all over, not ‘how long have you been seeing him’ but ‘how long have you been going behind my back’.

‘A while, nearly a year . . .’ Gabby had to be honest now she’d been caught; it was the only way out for her. If she lied now she was as good as dead. Her mother was not a woman to buy lies of any description. Once sussed out, all that you had left to redeem yourself in any way was the truth.

Cynthia screwed up her face in complete and utter amazement. A year! This had been going on for a year, and no one had guessed? No one had told her more like. The bastards. An O’Casey – a family so low down on the social stratum they might as well be fucking cavemen. Bridie O’Casey was a lazy, feckless trollop who couldn’t even keep her kids clean, let alone her home. And the father! Paddy O’Casey, the local drunkard. It was beyond her comprehension.

‘All I’ve done for you kids, and this is how you repay me? Your brother up there on the road to becoming a fucking serial killer and you well on your way to whoring! Well, lady, this stops here. You’re coming home for good. No wonder you’re always round your nana’s! I bet she’s encouraging him, fucking vicious old bag that she is . . .’

She punched her daughter in the mouth, sending her reeling across the room. Gabby landed on the floor by the dining-room door, and it was as if Cynthia was seeing her properly for the first time in years. The long, shapely legs, the high breasts, the tiny waist. This was a woman in the making and, if her boyfriend had seen his way fit to helping her along the road, she would kill the fucker with her bare hands.

Terrified, Gabby pulled herself up off the floor. She knew from experience that this was now about damage limitation. Taking a deep breath she said in her most humble voice, ‘I’m sorry, Mum, I should have told you, but I knew how you would react . . .’

Cynthia was shaking her head at the two-faced skulduggery of this daughter of hers. ‘A fucking O’Casey? Is that your fucking limit? Barbie’s Ken has got more brains than him! The whole family is a bit touched. And you are going out with him! You shouldn’t be out with any boys, you’re too young.’