Tess and Conor were home by the time Tom and Nina returned. It was clear that they were together. Properly together. Nina turned as red as a rash while Tom couldn’t stop smiling. They held hands in a loose way, as if they were scared to make their connection obvious. For once, Tess behaved with tact. She finished her beer in one swallow and announced that she was going to bed. Then she yanked Conor by the arm and ushered him towards the girls’ bedroom. ‘You can have Nina’s bed,’ she said, in her most emphatic voice. She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. Conor was like the brother Tess didn’t have, and that was the way she wanted it to stay.

She’d been wrong to question her friendship with the others. Even when they were falling out, they were in sync in ways that outsiders would never understand. Tess would never like the O’Grady brothers, but she could appreciate why Tom bristled at jokes about sudden death.

Before she’d left for Wonder Burger, she’d scribbled a note for Nina: I’ve gone to call your father to fill him in on your shameful behaviour. I expect he’ll be over on the next flight. See you later. Your clean-living, hard-working friend, Tess.

She hoped that Nina and Tom were properly together now and that, for once, something might work out the way she wanted it to.

A wave of nausea slammed into her. Would it be possible, she wondered, to slink over to the green and have a short nap under a tree? She decided against. If caught, she’d be sacked, and she couldn’t afford to lose another job. She told herself that if she could survive the next few hours, she’d be able to go somewhere with Conor and get a proper dinner. She had an overwhelming desire for roast chicken and mashed potato. Oh, and a can of Fanta. She’d sell her soul for a fizzy orange.

Tess was wiping her forehead and cursing her sweaty brown uniform when she noticed a woman staring at her. With her wavy blonde hair, sinewy figure, small black dress and silver sandals, she looked like money. Tess felt as if she was being measured, not in a general sense but actually measured.

‘Can I help you?’ she said.

The woman smiled. She had surprisingly unruly teeth. ‘Do you work here?’ she asked.

‘No, I get my kicks from wearing this manky uniform and picking up burger wrappers.’ Tess winked.

‘You’re Irish.’

‘Afraid so.’

The woman put out her hand. ‘My name’s Estelle Lonsdale,’ she said, as she gave Tess a business card.

Chapter 11

Dublin and Kilmitten, July 1991