‘Listen to me,’ he said, in his most emphatic voice, ‘you’re not to beat yourself up over this. What you’ve told me mightn’t be important. But, if it is, you’re not to worry. I won’t get you into trouble. What matters is that you’ve told me now.’

While he spoke, she tore the tissue into narrow strips. Rarely had Conor encountered such a nervous witness. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep the pledge he’d just made, but that was a worry for another day.

‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘Is there anything else you remember about this woman? Anything at all? For instance, do you know if she was married? Did she have children?’

‘Well, I do recall one or two things.’

‘That’s good,’ said Conor. ‘Tell me what you can.’

Chapter 38

After the burial, they gathered in small groups, shuffling from one foot to the other and rubbing their hands together. A thin wind whipped around them. Of all the places Tess had been, few were as bleak as the graveyard in Kilmitten.

‘In fairness to Mercedes,’ said Tom, ‘she wasn’t the worst of them.’

Tess fought back a smile. In her adopted home, this would be seen as begrudging. Unkind, even. Here, it was high praise. She’d decided to come back for the funeral following a call from her mother. Although she’d tried to sound upbeat, her sorrow was clear. Tess still found it strange to see her mam inside a church. ‘I’ve learned to see weddings and funerals as rituals,’ she said. ‘In my head, they’ve no connection to the man who wanted to take you away.’ The Mass was an elaborate production with a soloist, a harpist and a long eulogy from Mercedes’ daughter, Liesl. Tess had half expected a medley from the deceased’s beloved Sound of Music, but the current parish priest didn’t approve of such fripperies. The sombre atmosphere was interrupted only by an outbreak of competitive coughing and a baby who could have wailed for Ireland. By the time the soprano had finished ‘You Raise Me Up’ (surprisingly not on the banned list), she was wiping away tears.

It was easy to be snide about Mercedes and her sidekick, Mags Moynihan. Looking back, though, Tess saw they’d been good friends to her mother when she’d had little in her life, apart from worthless men and a daughter who asked too many questions.

‘You’re right,’ she said to Tom. ‘When I was a kid, Mercedes and Mags were always in the kitchen, chain-smoking Rothmans and gossiping up a storm. I thought they were a scourge. But, bless them, they were hardy women, the last of the species. It’s Mags I feel sorry for. I’d say she’d rather have lost her husband than her best buddy.’