Kate dropped her head on to her chest and bit her lip. After what she had read in Lizzy’s diary, anyone seemed to be Lizzy’s taste. Kate swallowed the thought. She had to stop making judgements or they’d never get back on an even keel.

‘He’s all right. I’m a bit old for a boyfriend though, don’t you think? Let’s say he’s more of a . . . man friend.’

‘As far as dad’s concerned he’s a boyfriend stroke lover. He’s so jealous. Honestly Mum, you should have seen him, he was practically green!’ Lizzy hooted with laughter, making the others in the room look at her and smile themselves.

‘What did you say to him, Liz?’

Lizzy leant across the table and in one of her old gestures, that brought a lump to Kate’s throat, she pushed her heavy hair off her face and grinned, for all the world looking like a schoolgirl. This girl-woman made Kate want to weep. She blinked away the burning tears.

‘I told him it wasn’t any of his bloody business.’

Kate’s eyes widened.

‘I bet that went down well, Liz!’

Lizzy laughed out loud. ‘Like a lead balloon, Mum. I told him straight though,’ Lizzy was serious again now, ‘I said that was the trouble with this family, everyone did what was expected of them and never what they wanted to do!’

Kate stared at Lizzy in amazement. Her daughter sounded more grown up and intelligent than she had ever done before. ‘I sent him away with a flea in his ear, I can tell you.’

‘Oh, Lizzy!’

‘Oh Lizzy nothing. If I’m to say what I really think, like the psychiatrist says I should, then I’m afraid that please or offend, I’m gonna say it!’

She stretched her arms out wide. ‘I feel great, Mum. Really great, for the first time in ages. Joanie came in this morning and we had a long chat. She told me in no uncertain terms what a complete shit I’ve been and I had to agree with her. But I promised her, and I’m promising you now, I’ll be better. I am going to be much better.’

‘Lizzy, I love you, whatever you are, whatever you do.’

She smiled.

‘I know that, Mum. Now tell me, what’s this Patrick Kelly like?’

‘He’s just a friend. When his daughter was murdered we sort of - I don’t know - we sort of made a friendship, I suppose.’

‘Gran says he’s lovely. That’s because he’s Irish. Do you remember when Boy George was on Top of the Pops and Gran went, “What on earth’s that on the telly?” And I said, “That’s Boy George, Gran, his real name is George O’Dowd. His family’s Irish.” And Gran listened to him for a while and then went, “Sure he’s not that bad!”’