And she said, at the top of the lane, looking at nothing: “I have never once thanked your father and I did not know his name until last night.”
Then she said, “That’s not an excuse. That’s just a fact about me.”
Which, from Solange Halloran, is roughly the equivalent of anybody else lying down in the road.
Monday. Ailish came at nine and I paid her and Solange tried to pay her and Ailish, who is very sensible, took the money from me because I’d booked her.
The marquee went at eleven. They all left at about one.
And Roisin — the younger sister, thirty-eight, who has said perhaps forty words to me in seven years — stopped at the car and said:
“I did read your email. In May. I read it and I didn’t answer it because I thought if I answered it I’d have to do it.”
Then she said, “That’s grim, isn’t it,” and got in the car.
