In her weariness, Tess couldn’t think of a smart reply. She lifted a shoulder and walked out.

Within ten minutes, Estelle was on the phone. ‘Where are you?’ she said. ‘And, more importantly, what are you playing at?’

‘I’m in a cab on my way to Heathrow and I’m playing at nothing. I’ve got to go home. My mother’s not well.’

‘Is she on life support?’

‘No.’

‘Then you don’t need to go running home. What you need to do is turn around and go back to that shoot. Your mother will still be there tomorrow.’

‘I’ve got to see her today.’

Tess heard a quick breath. ‘This is your moment,’ said Estelle. ‘Your Vogue cover will be out in a few months. The cosmetics people are very keen. You’ve got to be in New York again next week. It’s all about to happen for you. And what do you do? You’re at a major-league shoot and you do a runner. I promise you, if you screw this up, you’ll regret it.’

Tess thought of her mam, pregnant and upset. She pictured Flan, pacing the house, not knowing what to do. She thought, too, about Conor’s revelation: her mother was willing to tell the full story. By the end of the day, her questions might be answered. She reminded Estelle of how hard she worked; of how, compared to lots of girls, she was the definition of clean-living and responsible. She’d never arrived for a job coked-up or strung-out. She had no scars or bruises or track marks. Okay, from time to time she was slightly hung over, but she was young and she had to live. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but on this occasion, some slack will have to be cut.’

Then she clicked off her phone.

‘Terminal One, please,’ she said to the driver.

Flan opened the door. ‘Tess?’ he said, his voice heavy with confusion.

She grinned, affecting casualness, as if it was perfectly normal to turn up with no luggage and no prior warning. A light drizzle was falling, the sky marbled with grey.

‘How did you … I mean, why didn’t you …?’ he asked. Then, as though suddenly noticing that she was standing in the rain, he ushered her in. ‘Come on in, pet. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m a bit …’

‘… surprised to see me,’ she said, then explained she’d got a taxi from Shannon. Driving wasn’t a skill she’d managed to acquire.

‘That must have cost you a few pounds,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you call me? I would have collected you.’