‘Look, don’t worry,’ said Jude. ‘At least today’s our last day, and me and Larn can pay for your omelette.’

‘I don’t care about the sodding omelette!!’ Catrin screeched, hysterical now. Other customers turned and stared. ‘My purse,’ she wept. ‘It had Sol’s number in it, didn’t it?’

12

Catrin

Huw had been there to greet them at the airport and Catrin wept when she saw him.

‘Hey now, look at the three of you!’ he declared, fighting his emotions at the sight of his little girl. ‘Browner than your Uncle Tim when he’s been on the sunbed!’

The journey home had been a mixture of hysterical laughter and pensive silence. They’d all belted out ‘MAE HEN WLAD FY NHADAU’ as they crossed the border into Wales, and shared with Huw some of the more sanitized stories from their trip, carefully avoiding subjects such as the Cyprus Scandal, the Builder from Belfast and, of course, the sorry tale of Solomon Blythe. And they’d tentatively discussed the A-level results awaiting them the next day – a subject they’d successfully banned for the entire holiday, but which now couldn’t be avoided.

They dropped Lana off first. Her sprawling family all stood at the window, her dad Keith with a toddler in one arm, another child clutching his knees and two others waving madly, excited by the return of the native. They all waved back, including Huw, and the three girls launched themselves into an emotional group hug by Lana’s front gate. Wiping away an errant tear, Lana whispered, ‘I fucking love you two!’ before turning and heading up the path to her front door. From the doorstep she blew them both a flamboyant kiss, and disappeared, swallowed up by her screaming sisters.

Judith was next to be dropped off, silent and worried about what awaited her at home. Catrin squeezed her hand as she got out of the car. ‘You know where we are, babes,’ she whispered. And watched as Judith let herself into the house, her welcome party nowhere to be seen. At nearly nineteen years of age, Judith Harris was still a latchkey kid.

Conversely, when they pulled up outside the Kelly house there were balloons and a massive banner – of course there were:

WELCOME BACK CATRIN MARY THERESA

She didn’t really understand why they had to put her middle names up, but presumably it was to add to the drama. There were also seventeen members of her family all waiting to celebrate her safe return, including both sets of grandparents, her five cousins, two aunties and three uncles. ‘We kept it intimate,’ her mother said, ‘because I know you don’t like a fuss.’

Tom rugby-tackled her to the ground the second he saw her. ‘Welcome back, Frog Head!’ he yelled, and Nana Kelly doused her in a dozen Hail Marys. Despite the mad energy, there was something so comforting about being back with her crazy, lovely family once again, especially as she nursed her broken heart.

An hour into the welcome-home celebrations, when her mother was just about to serve her famous Baked Alaska, the doorbell rang.