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time in her life had time to lead the type of life she had never thought possible. She looked years younger and had a serene contented air about her that Noreen had never seen when her father was alive. Married to Tom, she’d been quiet and miserable. As a widow she’d blossomed and Noreen rejoiced for her.
    It was a cruel irony that she had been struck down with a massive stroke from which she’d never recovered, and although her eventual death gave Noreen a freedom of sorts, she’d grieved for her mother and railed at the cruelty of fate.
    It was through her mother’s illness that she’d really got to know Oliver. She’d known him and his family to say hello to, although Mrs Flynn had always been a bit stuck-up and stand-offish, but apart from the usual social interactions outside a shop or the church, she’d never had a conversation with him and knew just that he had a good reputation as a builder, a rare enough distinction.
    When the hospital had told the family that they could no longer let Nuala occupy a bed as there was nothing more they could do for her, Noreen had tried to get nursing-home accommodation. But after a few weeks Rita and Maura had baulked at the cost and said they couldn’t bear to see their mother ‘incarcerated in a home for the rest of her life’. However, they weren’t willing to take it upon themselves to bring her to either of their homes. They hadn’t nursing abilities like she had. ‘And besides,’ as Maura had sniffily told her, ‘we’ve looked after her for the past ten years when you’ve been in London.’ The way her sisters saw it, it was time she took some responsibility.
    â€˜What do you mean, you looked after her? She was never sick a day in her life and once Da died she had a great life,’ Noreen retorted.
    â€˜Ah, you weren’t here when he was drunk and making her life a misery. You got out pretty quick so you didn’t have to be around for that,’ Maura accused.
    She had a point, Noreen supposed. She’d left home to train as a nurse in the Mater, and lived in Dublin before moving to London. She hadn’t been at home to endure her father’s increasingly bad behaviour.
    Noreen had given up her job as a ward sister at St Mary’s Hospital in Paddington and come home, simmering with resentment. If she had been married with children, would Maura and Rita have been so quick to land their mother on her, and would she have felt in a stronger position to refuse to shoulder the whole burden? It was as if she were being punished for being single, she thought gloomily, feeling uncharacteristically sorry for herself as she flew home from London to begin a new and uncertain life in her home town.
    The small, poky family home wasn’t suitable for Nuala’s needs and Noreen had told her sisters in no uncertain terms that she needed an extension to the back parlour and that they could pay their share towards it. That money had been forthcoming without argument, increasing her resentment towards her siblings. They couldn’t wash their hands of their mother quick enough, now that Noreen was home. Money for an extension was a small price to pay. Noreen had engaged Oliver Flynn’s firm to build the extension for her.
    He’d looked over the architect’s plans, made a few suggestions of his own and told her that he’d be able to have it built for her in six months’ time as they were currently working flat out. Noreen had been horrified. Six months was far too long to wait. She was thinking in terms of six weeks, she told him agitatedly.
    â€˜We’re pushed to the pin of our collars, Noreen. I can’t let my other clients down,’ he’d said regretfully when she told him of her mother’s circumstances and that she needed the extension built as soon as possible.
    â€˜It’s not the Taj Mahal I’m looking for, Oliver, and it’s not even a