‘Don’t get me started on that man. Obviously, I’ve told Flan. I gave him the full story a few months back. I wanted to put all my cards on the table, so to speak. He was horrified. For a week or so, he was in a daze. It’s kind of messy because of Paula being married to Marty O’Grady.’

‘Marty’s the best of them. Everyone says that. As for the others? Jesus, what a shower.’ Tess took another tissue from the box. ‘I can’t believe I’m related to the O’Gradys. They’re my … brothers.’

‘At least you don’t look like them.’

‘I look like you, thankfully. Imagine being as ugly as the O’Gradys.’

Her mother smiled, and a tear ran into her mouth.

‘Were you never tempted to tell anyone else, like Mags or Mercedes? Or any of your other …’ Tess didn’t know what word to use. Boyfriends? Partners?

‘I was. Sometimes, I’d think, I can’t keep quiet any longer. Then I’d catch myself on. Nobody would be capable of keeping the information to themselves. The secret would be too much for them. So, I stuck to the tale I’d told my parents and embellished it along the way. His name was John, I said. He’d gone to London to look for work, and I wouldn’t know how to find him even if I wanted to.’

‘Do you reckon Breege O’Grady has any idea her husband was my father?’

‘Honestly, no. She’s a woman of relatively few words, but even so, I think that if she knew, she would have said something to somebody. At this stage, that’s the way I’d like it to stay. There’s nothing to be gained by telling her. I suppose, though …’ Tess’s mam ran a finger down her forehead. ‘I have asked myself … if he did that to me, was he violent with her?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘I’ve had plenty of time for thinking.’

‘I can’t imagine how you did it. How you held it all together, I mean.’

‘To be fair, I wasn’t always the model mother. I was never going to win Housewife of the Year.’

‘Thank God for that. I couldn’t really see you up on that stage: “And here, with her sensational fairy cakes and her dee-licious tea brack, modelling a bee-yoo-ti-ful magenta suit and a pair of knickers she knitted from leftover wool, is Ginny Fortune.”’ Tess’s silly voice – part newsreader, part circus ringmaster – forced another smile from her mam. ‘And, by the way, you were a brilliant mother. You are a brilliant mother. I’m only sorry the men in your life didn’t always appreciate you.’