Why was it, Nina wondered, that the most trivial issues could spark the loudest arguments? It wasn’t as if Tom’s change of plan was that big a deal. Okay, she’d been looking forward to the weekend in Kilmitten. Tess was due home for the first time in ages. Conor would be there too, and they rarely saw him any more either. But there was nothing to stop her making the journey on her own. Still, here she was, tingling with anger. She liked everything to be orderly, and when it wasn’t, she couldn’t mask her annoyance.

For the past two years, Tom and Nina had shared a rented cottage in Ringsend. They were lucky to live in such a fantastic location: close to the city centre, even closer to the sea. The place was decorated in shades of landlord brown and purple, and some of the furniture appeared to have been stolen from a hospital. The bedroom had two iron lockers, while one of the kitchen chairs was actually a commode. Then there was the heating, which worked only in fits and starts, and the neighbour who liked to play his Black Sabbath records at two in the morning. But all of that was fine. The problem was the cottage’s size: it was so suffocatingly small that when they fell out there was nowhere to hide.

‘I don’t know why you’re in such a strop,’ Tom was saying, as he paced the sitting room. ‘I’m the one who’s losing out.’

‘I’m not in a strop. I’m just surprised you didn’t say no. Why didn’t you tell Val you had plans for the weekend?’

‘Because that wouldn’t have been fair. He’s stuck.’

Nina smoothed back a wayward lock of hair. ‘There must be someone else who can give him a dig-out.’

‘If there was, he wouldn’t have asked me.’

‘Well, I’m going anyway.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to stay here.’ Tom sat down in one of their creaking armchairs. ‘I wish I’d had more notice, but Val’s brother’s in a bad way. He’s worried the poor fellow won’t last the weekend and he can’t afford to close the shop.’

‘I don’t see why not. It’s not as though …’ She allowed her voice to taper off, but it was too late.

‘It’s not as though a rickety old corner shop really matters. That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?’ Tom was on his feet again, striding up and down. There wasn’t much space for striding. ‘Now, if it was your job, or anyone else’s job, that would be a different matter.’

‘Don’t twist my words.’