‘Oh, Tessy, you know what people are like. If I’d said anything, I’d have been the one in the wrong. I can hear them with their “So what were you doing with him to begin with? What did you think he wanted you for? To discuss the state of the nation? And how much did you have to drink? Weren’t you leading the man on?” I started questioning myself, too. I thought that if I’d gone home, like Mam and Dad would have wanted, and if I hadn’t had such grand notions about myself, well, it wouldn’t have happened. I would have been safe. I blamed myself and my big ideas.’

‘But he raped you,’ said Tess, the tears at the back of her throat making her voice sound weedy and congested.

‘Yes. Yes, he did. I couldn’t say that then, but I can now. I’m sorry, I did warn you that you mightn’t like what I had to say.’ Her mother reached for her cup and took another careful sip of tea.

‘Please, Mam. Don’t say you’re sorry. I understand why you couldn’t tell me. O’Grady should’ve been behind bars, not strutting around the village.’

Her mam placed the cup back on the locker. A solitary tear ran down her left cheek. Fleetingly, Tess thought about the outside world. About London and Kilmitten. About the kids in the street and Flan down the hall. Nothing else mattered. Her whole world was in this room. She looked at her mother. ‘You don’t have to say anything else.’

‘No, I’ve got this far. You deserve to hear the rest. You’ll have other questions, and I want to deal with everything tonight.’

‘Okay.’

‘It was months before I told anyone I was pregnant. In the end, Mam guessed. She was devastated. I can still see her, sitting at the kitchen table, crying. No lie, I reckon that image was burned onto my brain – cut me open and you’ll find it there. In those days, most parents would have sent me away. That was what you did. But Mam and Dad said I could stay and they’d decide what to do after the baby arrived. By then, it was obvious I was expecting. Nobody in the village said anything to my face, but I can imagine what they said behind my back. Let me tell you, it was a very lonely place to be. Finally, the parish priest came to the door and told my parents that the time had come to send me to a home for unmarried mothers.’

‘Father Galvin did that?’