She reflected on her parents’ marriage. If they weren’t obviously happy, they weren’t obviously miserable either. They rubbed along. Maybe that was what you did. Her mother was nearly fifty now, and while she’d aged a little, her beauty remained intact. Ageing, she maintained, was a matter of choice. You could allow yourself to hide behind a Crimplene tent or you could work at preserving what you had. Looking around the village, quite a few of her mam’s contemporaries appeared content to crumble into middle age. Mags Moynihan’s dark curls had morphed into a steel frizz while Breege O’Grady looked defeated, as if she’d never recovered from her husband’s sudden death.

Nina sipped her orange juice and watched a bee swoop in towards the pansies in one of the patio tubs. Her parents’ garden was always in perfect order. Her mother had a particular gift with flowers, not just growing them but arranging them too. She was often called upon to do arrangements for weddings and the like. It wasn’t a talent she’d passed on. Nina couldn’t tell a lobelia from a lobotomy.

Her mam put down her drink. ‘How did you leave things with Julian Heaney?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re not going to do an interview, are you? That really would be a step too far for your father.’

‘You can relax. I don’t think Julian’s that bothered about me, anyway. It’s Tess who’s the prize interviewee.’

This was true. Nina wouldn’t be appearing on screen. All the same, she had a feeling she’d be seeing Julian again.

Down the street, Tess lay on an old bath towel. Around her the grass was so high she felt as if she was hiding in a jungle, as if at any moment Tarzan might come swinging in. Judging by the sounds floating overhead, everybody in Pearse Terrace was in their back garden. From one side, she heard Paudge Slattery making heavy work of cutting his lawn. On the other, the Duggans’ grandchildren were screeching like monkeys. The sun danced across her nose. She would have to go in shortly. Arriving in New York with a big red face wasn’t a good idea. She was preparing herself for a talk with her mother. Five more minutes, she thought. Then I’ll be ready.