There was another reason she valued Nina’s friendship. It didn’t matter how cheap Tess’s clothes were or how loopy her mam could be, being tight with Nina gave her a special pass. It was like people said, ‘Well, if she’s good enough for the doctor’s daughter, she must be okay.’ Of course, Tess never came out and said this. She didn’t want Nina thinking she was a user.

From downstairs, she heard voices. Strange. Although her watch was out of reach, she thought it was fairly early. She could hear her mother and at least two other women: her friends, Mags and Mercedes. In Tess’s view, Mags and Mercedes were a pair of witches, as likely to gossip about her mam as with her. So far, she’d managed to stop herself saying this out loud.

Mags had a rasp of a voice, like she’d starting chain-smoking in her cot, and it powered above the others. Even so, Tess could make out only the occasional word. She caught ‘gardaí’, ‘fright’, ‘panic’ and ‘upside-down’. What her mam and Mercedes said in return, she didn’t know. One thing was obvious: this was no time to be hanging about in bed. She peeled back the covers and hopped around in search of something to wear. Glad for once that she didn’t need a bra, she pulled her jeans and red sweatshirt over her pyjamas. Then she took her fisherman’s socks from the drawer, ran a hand through her pale brown hair and wound a scarf around her neck. The morning was too cold for vanity.

Tess’s mother, Ginny, was sitting at the kitchen table with Mags and Mercedes. In front of them were a pot of tea, three mugs, a plate of toast crusts and an overflowing ashtray. Once upon a time, somebody had told Tess’s mam that in the right light she was Kilmitten’s answer to Debbie Harry. Maybe this was true, but just then she looked crumpled, the remains of her party make-up clinging to her face, her blonde hair all mussed up.

‘You’re up and about early,’ said Tess.

‘Is it any surprise?’ replied Mercedes.

Tess’s mam intervened with a stare that said, I’ll handle this. ‘There’s been some bad news, love. Get yourself a bowl of cereal and you can sit down and join us.’

All the bowls were in the sink, so Tess poured Rice Krispies into a mug and splashed on some milk. ‘What do you mean “bad news”?’

Her mam pulled on her cigarette before replying. ‘It’s Father Galvin.’

‘What about him?’

‘He’s dead,’ said Mercedes, subtle as a steamroller.

‘Like in an accident or something?’

‘Not quite,’ said her mother. ‘Leave this to me, Mercedes, will you?’

‘It’s almost ten o’clock,’ rasped Mags. ‘We’d better get the news. Switch on the radio there, Tess, like a good girl.’