Mum had been combing her hair and reapplying lipstick when my aunt stomped in. I could tell without watching that Mum had frozen. Mum had to bear the criticism of many church members because she wore makeup, coloured her hair, wore high heels and because she was a hairdresser, which was a profession all about appearance, and therefore about vanity.

‘Agnes.’

‘Yes, Maisie.’

‘I notice you’ve coloured your hair a rather jaunty shade of orange this week.’

‘Auburn, Maisie. It’s auburn.’

‘I suppose you think it’s rather fetching?’

‘Well, that’s why I chose it,’ said Mum.

‘I was wondering if you noticed a rather relevant verse in the reading of Proverbs this morning?’ asked Aunty Maisie.

‘Which quote was that one, Maisie?’

‘“Charm is deceitful, beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised”,’ chanted my aunt.

Mum didn’t answer at first. I sat very still. I think I was holding my breath.

‘Well, that is very reassuring, isn’t it?’ I heard Mum answer.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘A woman who fears the Lord is to be praised … and goodness knows I fear the Lord, Maisie, nearly as much as I fear you.’

‘Agnes, we all know it’s been hard for you. Getting on a boat from Scotland on your own at nineteen was quite an adventure. Leaving all your family behind because there was no work to be had. And then finding the uncle here who’d sponsored you had died while you were on the way. No home to come to, and no way to get home. Well, that’s just awful. And I’m sure it’s one of the reasons you badger Harry to work so hard for a promotion … so you can afford a visit to your family.’

‘Are we going to go through my entire history in this toilet, Maisie? And surely if you thought that was all it would take to get me to leave him, the entire ecclesia would have banded together to sell enough homemade cakes by now to buy me a plane ticket home.’

I knew one of the reasons Mum had said ‘toilet’ was because she knew Aunty Maisie hated that word. My aunt insisted we refer to it as either ‘lavatory’ or ‘water closet’.

‘And there we have it, Agnes. You just referred to Scotland as “home”. I’m just saying, dear, that we all understand what you’ve been through. It must have been so hard. And I’m sure you feel lucky that our darling Harry walked into the hairdresser who’d apprenticed you that day …’

‘And I’m just as sure you all wish he’d never stepped inside that salon,’ said my mum. The tap was still running, but I was sure Mum’s hands couldn’t have been that dirty. I wasn’t breathing because there were things Aunty Maisie was saying that I didn’t know about, and I didn’t want to miss a word. My bottom was getting pretty chilly with my pants around my knees, but sometimes gathering family intelligence takes sacrifice.