She had knocked up a nice sponge cake and some sandwiches, and she had also made a quiche and a huge bowl of salad. She looked around her kitchen and, for the first time, wished she had as nice a house as Ria. Not that they couldn’t have afforded it, but Lena would rather have the cash. Most days she felt her home was more than adequate, if not exactly luxurious.

She wiped the worktops down for the twentieth time, and looked out of the window to check on Tania. She smiled to herself as she saw her daughter sitting on the grass, playing with her dolls while chattering away to herself. Tania had a great imagination, and she was not a child who was constantly demanding attention – unlike the boys who had driven her mental from the moment they had opened their eyes, until she had finally got them back into their beds.

She heard the front door open and, plastering a wide smile on her face, she waited for her son to bring in the girl he was obviously really keen on.

Noel came into the kitchen and, looking decidedly sheepish, he introduced the girl who was standing behind him in the hallway. All Lena could really see was that the girl was tiny, but as she walked into the kitchen, Lena smiled in delight. She was an angel; she had a thick head of auburn hair, and green eyes – it was a startling combination. She was very fine-boned, with cheekbones you could cut paper on, and a trim figure that was in perfect proportion.

‘This is Christine Marks. Christine, this is my old mum.’ Noel’s voice was full of pride as he made the introductions.

As the girl held out her hand, the front door banged open noisily and Theresa Bailey burst into the kitchen, all excited and looking at Christine Marks as if she was a prime cow on sale at the auctions. She said loudly, ‘Jaysus, Noel, she’s fecking gorgeous.’

Noel laughed with a mixture of delight and embarrassment. ‘This is my nana, Theresa Bailey. Just about as Irish as you can get and, Nana, this is Christine Marks. You’ll be pleased to know she’s from good Irish stock!’

The women took to each other immediately and Noel, seeing that, was deeply relieved. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he watched quietly as they chatted amongst themselves. He was madly in love with Christine, and he had prayed like a Benedictine monk all day long that she would get on with his mother. If they had not taken to each other, he knew he would have had to out her, and that would have been hard. But the fact of it was, you could have fifty birds and five wives in your lifetime, but you only had one mother.