From his seat in the far corner of Pilkington’s Lounge, Conor could see people struggling to camouflage their interest in Tess. He spotted Brendan Talty in his summer shirt, lemon with short sleeves, and Timmy Moynihan in his Ireland soccer jersey, a legacy of the previous year’s World Cup. They were pretending not to stare, but their conversations were too animated, their movements too jerky. If they had any inkling what she was talking about, they would slide from their stools in astonishment. They’d know soon enough. His father was already calling people. ‘I want to get this over and done with,’ he’d said, as though talking about clearing out the guttering or weeding the garden.

Fashions might come and go, but Pilkington’s never changed. The walls were stained cigarette-smoke yellow, the seats sagged, and the carpet bore the marks of a thousand spilled pints. There was no television, no hot water, and the selection of beers was pitifully small. Yet even the slightest improvement – a new sign on the ladies’ toilet, a mirror at the back of the bar – provoked complaints. The locals maintained everything was perfect as it was.

‘So,’ said Nina, ‘you genuinely didn’t know?’

‘Not the foggiest,’ said Tess.

‘Not an iota,’ added Conor.

Nina frowned. ‘And nobody else seems to know either.’

‘Amazing,’ agreed Tess. ‘It goes to show, you can keep secrets in this village, after all.’

‘But haven’t we always known that?’ said Conor.

For a second or two, Tess and Nina appeared baffled. ‘Ah, I get you,’ said Nina, eventually. ‘Speaking of which, I met the documentary guy earlier this evening.’

‘And?’ said Tess.

Nina drank the last of her cider. ‘Hold that thought while I go to the bar. I’ll tell you about him when I get back. You two can bond over your new family status. What will you be? Stepbrother and sister?’

‘Yikes,’ said Tess. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Me neither,’ said Conor, who was still trying to absorb the enormity of his father’s news. Although Tess had let rip about her mother, he had a notion that something significant remained unsaid.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

Her fingers ran along the top of her cigarettes. ‘Where do I start? There I was earlier, talking about us getting a wedding. Little did I know that my own mother’s was on the cards.’

‘There’s something else, though. I can tell.’

‘I was … Oh, what the hell. I may as well come on out with it. It’s been ages since I asked Mam about my father. I was thinking this might be the right time.’

‘Or not.’

‘I hear what you’re saying. I don’t want to hassle her, but I’m entitled to know. It’s not like I want to be friends with the man. I’d just like to know who he is. Why that should be a problem is beyond me.’