Thankfully she had her younger daughter to take her mind off it. Celeste had just got in from work, and she was beaming, as always, with happiness. Smiling widely in response, Mary looked at her younger daughter and said with determination, ‘You look happy!’

Celeste grinned back at her, and Mary decided that this child at least was going to be all right. Celeste was the antithesis of her older sister – she had no side to her, what you saw was what you got.

‘I’m all right, Mum. I take it Cynthia hasn’t taken poor Gabby home?’

Mary shook her head. ‘I think she’s still a bit tired after the birth of young Jimmy . . .’

Celeste frowned then, very theatrically, in a perfect imitation of her older sister, said ‘Don’t you mean James, Mum!’

They both laughed. Cynthia hated the child being called ‘Jimmy’. She had given birth to a James, and James was his name, that was the end of it.

‘Yeah, James! Like anyone will ever call him that.’

Celeste stopped laughing and said seriously, ‘Cynthia will, Mum, you know what she’s like.’

‘That’s true. Like anything else where the kids are concerned, we can only do what she wants.’

The laughter stopped completely then, even the pretence of it. They had often laughed about Cynthia and her ways, mocked her even – behind her back, of course – but suddenly it was as if they had decided to stop playing the game, as if they had all realised that, in reality, none of it was actually very funny. In order for Mary to see her grandchildren she had to go along with Cynthia’s rules – they all did. She used the children like a weapon. And they let her, they allowed her to do it, because they knew that without them in the background the children would have nothing.

‘Do you think she’ll ever be all right, Mum? Because she seems to me as if she’s getting unhappier by the day.’

Mary flapped her hand in annoyance. ‘She’ll never be happy, Celeste, it’s not in her nature.’

‘Well, that’s as may be, Mum, but at least she has a husband, and a family who care about her.’

Mary smiled sadly. ‘Well, for the time being anyway, eh, love?’

Jack Callahan, who had been listening to this exchange with half an ear, looked at his wife and daughter and shook his head in disbelief. Gesturing at Gabby, whose eyes were still glued to the TV, he said loudly, ‘Look at this little one here, would you two rather she went home with that hard bitch?’

Celeste sighed heavily at her father’s words. ‘I think you should think a little about what you say in front of the child, Dad, you know.’