The following afternoon, she met Conor in a café in Rathmines. Only a few weeks had passed since they’d last met, so why he wanted to see her again, she didn’t know. She’d gone to extra trouble with her appearance, putting on her favourite red jacket and cream trousers. Ridiculous, of course, but she didn’t want to become known as the frumpy one. If only she’d been better dressed on the day she’d met Tom. Vanessa was always perfectly groomed, like a receptionist in a pricey hair salon.

Nina and Conor sat across from each other, cappuccinos in front of them, 1980s soft rock drifting from the radio.

‘They used to play this at the community hall disco in Templemorris,’ said Conor, ‘as a respite from AC/DC and Motörhead.’

Nina told him about Bea and her love of nineties grunge. She thought her daughter’s Leaving Cert was going well, she said, but it was hard to be certain. ‘She keeps shifting the conversation. She seems fairly relaxed, though. I’m the one who gets in a lather about it all.’ She explained how Bea was the more easy-going of her girls. ‘I used to fret about her being bullied. Then I copped on and told myself I was being daft. Just because I’d had a bad experience at school, it didn’t mean the same would happen to her.’ She raised her palms to the ceiling. ‘I’m a terrible worrier.’

‘You always were,’ said Conor.

‘Alannah’s at the other end of the spectrum. Hurricane Alannah, I call her. She’s all go. Her latest ambition is to be a social media coordinator.’

‘Whatever one of those is.’

‘My sentiments entirely. Julian says we have to let her follow her dreams, only …’

‘You’d prefer it if she wanted a good old-fashioned job – like teaching.’

‘Or the gardaí,’ said Nina, with a smile.

Deep down, she knew this wouldn’t happen. Deeper still, she didn’t care. She was proud of her daughters: one mercurial, the other a dreamer. For all that she’d got wrong, they’d turned out better than she could have hoped.

She asked about Conor’s recovery. He’d be returning to work in the autumn, he said. He told her how in less than three years’ time, when he reached fifty, he’d be eligible for retirement. ‘Mad,’ he said, ‘but I’ll have thirty years’ service, and those are the rules.’

‘And will you go?’ asked Nina.

‘I’m tempted … except what else would I do?’

‘I know the feeling. I’ve been teaching fifth and sixth for so long, even if I left I’d still be doing the lessons in my head.’

The conversation moved on to Conor and Sharon’s visit to England.

‘Is Tess’s house very grand?’ asked Nina.