‘Yes, happy birthday, darling.’ Her mum lifted her now empty wine glass in one hand, while simultaneously beckoning the waiter with the other. ‘Not that it was the happiest day for me when you were born.’

Here we go . . . Bess steeled herself, pushing her feet into the sticky carpet underfoot and hoping the other patrons of the pub were not about to be regaled with the worst aspects of her mother’s birthing experience.

‘Nine pounds you were, arse first, and split me like an over-ripe pumpkin from nose to tail. I had to sit on a rubber ring for weeks! Your dad had to blow it up for me just so I could sit and watch Crossroads, didn’t you, Eddie?’

‘I did,’ he nodded, ‘but thank goodness I was younger then – had a lot more puff.’ He tapped his chest.

‘How is your meal?’ the waiter smiled weakly. Bess wasn’t sure how long he’d been lurking behind her but felt her face colour accordingly.

‘Lovely,’ Bess beamed, pulling the plate of dead salad back towards her.

‘Delicious,’ her mum smiled, handing him her empty wine glass.

‘Smashing!’ her dad said, shoving another wedge of pie into his gob, as if proof were needed.

‘I think she might be vying for a new car – is that what all this is about, Bess?’ her mum asked, running her tongue over her gums to free up trapped shreds of scampi, as if the waiter were not standing right there at the table.

‘Yes, that’s exactly it, Mum – I’m vying for a new bloody car.’ Bess pointed at her mother’s glass and then at herself, deciding to go for a glass of wine after all.

‘Red or white, madam?’

‘Both?’ she laughed, half joking.

‘When you come back, young man,’ her mum said to the waiter, ‘remind me to give you this.’

Bess didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as her mum reached into her pocket and whipped out the bloody voucher.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

August 20th 1984

Having run blindly from the rugby pitch, dodging the crowds and elbowing her way against the flow through the entrance gate, Bessie walked home in the shadows, partly to hide from anyone who might know her and partly to keep her tear-soaked face out of view. Her heart felt cleft in two.