Tom is the first to put his hand in, lifting out a pile of envelopes and cards. They’re addressed to Kenny McCarthy. Birthday cards. Christmas cards. Letters. Tom opens a letter to Kenny, it’s from her. Joyce… Mammy.

Sitting on the bed, I read her words.

Dear Kenny,

You don’t know me, but I know you. I held you in my womb for nine months before they robbed me of you. I’ve been trying to get Claire to tell you the truth but she won’t answer my letters or calls. I am your mother, Kenny. I did not abandon you or choose to leave you in the hands of my vicious mother and weak sister. They sent me away, told me you had died. I hope you get to read this, that Claire doesn’t keep it from you like I presume she did all the other ones. I’ll keep trying to contact you. Soon we will be together.

Your loving Mom, Joyce.

And there’s more, lots of letters, lots of cards. According to the dates they were all sent over a two-year period which ties in with how long Amber said the woman knew about her son. If he is her son. She could be just mad. Or devious.

Lifting a second pile out of the box, I notice the writing is different and the date stamps go way back, back to… I pull out the card. Happy 1st birthday, Grandson. Then another. Happy 2nd birthday, Grandson. Are these from Joyce’s mother, the woman who sent her away to America, the woman who told her the baby was dead?

Opening the card, I hold it over the bed in case money falls out. It’s a hard habit to break. Years of expecting nothing else on my birthday has me this way. When I was young, Mam used to buy me toys but when the job of getting my birthday present fell into my father’s lap, money fell into mine.

I read the inscription.

LOVE, ELLEN.

The card falls from my hand and lands on the floor at my feet. I try to say Tom’s name but nothing will come out of my mouth. Tom… Tom… no, nothing. He notices my distress, walks over and picks up the card, reads it.

He reads it again, this time turning it upside down and around and up and it’s like he can’t believe it’s real. I can’t believe it’s real.

‘Tom?’ Eventually I hear my own voice.

‘Sal… I…’ He lifts a second card and opens it. ‘I can’t believe this, what is this? Does this mean what I think it means?’

A cold imaginary blanket wraps itself around me. Ghosts circling me.

Tom is still staring at the name ELLEN. ‘She knew… but how?’