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was never any romance,’ Sarah said quickly.
    â€˜God love us!’ There was a smile in Peggy’s voice. ‘You must think I’m an awful fool altogether.’
    â€˜Look, Nan, I don’t want to talk about it.’
    â€˜Fair enough,’ Peggy agreed in a reasonable tone. ‘But I’ve just got one thing to say . . .’
    Sarah gave a reluctant sigh. ‘Go on, so.’
    â€˜This last year has been a hard one for you – I’ve seen how . . .’ Peggy paused, searching for the right word. ‘I’ve seen how
down
you were.’ Sarah was inordinately relieved that her grandmother hadn’t used the word depressed. ‘And now, just when you seem to have bounced back, he’s turned up. I don’t want to see you getting low again. Your mother . . .’
    Sarah finally took her eyes off the television. ‘My mother what?’
    Peggy heard the defensiveness in her granddaughter’s voice and changed tack. ‘John will be away for a number of years yet. Even when he’s finished in Paris, who’s to say he’ll ever comeback to live in Carrickmore. You must ask yourself if you have the mettle for a long-distance relationship.’
    Sarah got to her feet and made a show of puffing the armchair’s cushions into shape. ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, Nan. John has a French girlfriend . . . and I’m seeing someone else too.’
    As she told yet another lie about Tim, Sarah resolved that she would at least go on one date with him when the term started up.
    Peggy, visibly relieved, reached out for her granddaughter’s hand.
    â€˜I’m glad to hear that. I want you to be like other girls of your age: having fun, staying out late. I was happy that you didn’t come straight home the day you finished your exams. I was happy that you stayed out with your friends.’
    â€˜I thought you were angry with me.’ This was the first time Peggy had made mention of that day.
    â€˜Why would you think that? Young people must do what young people must do. I remember when I was nineteen like it was yesterday. Times were hard, but we knew how to have fun. We tested the boundaries like any other generation . . .’
    There it was: the perfect opening. Sarah wavered; if she was ever going to tell her grandmother about the baby, it was now. She longed to get it off her chest, to cry in Peggy’s arms, to be forgiven. But she couldn’t – she knew it would shatter her grandmother.
    â€˜I didn’t realise that you worry about me so much,’ she said lightly.
    â€˜Only in some ways, love. You’re a great girl, really.’
    The
Coronation Street
music sounded from the TV. The show was over, as was the moment for confessions.

Chapter 7
    Over the next year Sarah did everything to prove to herself, and her grandmother, that she knew how to have fun. She never turned down an invitation for a drink or a party, and the driver of the last bus came to know her by name. On the nights she missed the bus, which were frequent, she would stay at Emma’s mother’s house. Arms linked, she and Emma would stagger up Patrick’s Hill and fall in the door of the terrace. It didn’t matter how much noise they made, it would take nothing short of an earthquake to rouse Emma’s mother from her valium-induced sleep.
    Tim started the term with a steady girlfriend and Sarah lost the opportunity to go on a date with him. There were plenty of other boys, though, with their nondescript faces and sloppy kisses. She tried not to compare them to John but it was hard, especially when it was so hopelessly obvious that they couldn’t compete either physically or intellectually.
    â€˜Are you determined to kiss every boy in UCC?’ Emma asked one night.
    Sarah giggled. ‘I’m just trying to find one who makes the world spin.’
    â€˜You don’t need a boy for that,’ Emma quipped. ‘Just