My Mother's Secret by Sheila O'Flanagan

trying to smooth the troubled waters,’ said Sarah. ‘Two women turning up at a party in the same dress is a total disaster.’
    ‘However, it’s not your disaster.’ Lucinda grinned. ‘And we’ll get over it. C’mon, Jen, we should be celebrating your big day. You must be delighted.’
    ‘It was certainly a surprise,’ said Jenny.
    ‘Jen hates surprises,’ remarked Sarah.
    Lucinda laughed. ‘But this is a nice one. How could anyone not like a nice surprise?’
    ‘I would’ve liked the opportunity to get my hair done,’ confessed Jenny.
    ‘It’s fine, what are you on about?’ Lucinda made a face. ‘You look fab, you always do. That’s what forty years with a good man will do for you.’
    ‘Not that either of us would know,’ remarked Sarah.
    Jenny heard the edge to Sarah’s voice. She knew that her sister had always resented the way she and Pascal had come home from Italy and sprung the entire Roman wedding and baby thing on them. But it had been the only way to do it. Nevertheless, her relationship with Sarah had never been the same afterwards. It probably hadn’t been the same with Lucinda either, but at least she didn’t seem to harbour a grudge in the same way that Sarah did.
    We’re all adults, she reminded herself. Neither of them are my responsibility. And yet she couldn’t help feeling as though they still were. And that she’d let them down. She took another slug of rosé. And wondered if she was going to be completely off her head before the day was over.
    Steffie could feel heat rising from the wooden veranda. It reminded her of the time she was small and her parents had brought her to a beach with a pier. She couldn’t remember the beach but she did remember the warmth of the wood and the slightly tarry smell of it as she sat dangling her legs over the side. Her mother had warned her to be careful and she’d complained that they were always telling her to be careful of things and that she wasn’t a baby any more. She couldn’t have been more than four or five then. Neither Roisin nor Davey had been with them that day and she’d looked forward to having her parents’ undivided attention. It was a pity so much of it had been of the ‘watch what you’re doing’ variety. Afterwards, though, her dad had bought ice-cream cornets and they’d walked along the seafront with them, dipping the chocolate flake into the whipped cream and licking it. She smiled to herself. Summer memories were always good. Warm summer memories even better.
    Camilla Rasmussen walked over to her.
    ‘This is very nice,’ she said. ‘Very nice for your parents, and for Davey to come home.’
    ‘He can come home any time he wants,’ said Steffie. ‘It’s not that far, is it?’
    ‘No, but when you are in a different country, you live to the rhythm of that country,’ Camilla said. ‘You are caught up in your life there and you don’t think of anywhere else.’
    Steffie leaned against the wooden rail that surrounded the veranda. ‘I travelled abroad for my gap year, but I guess that was different to actually living abroad,’ she said.
    ‘I lived in Malaysia for a year,’ said Camilla. ‘It was good, but I was glad to return to Denmark.’
    ‘You wouldn’t think of living in Ireland?’
    ‘Perhaps,’ said Camilla. ‘If the right opportunity presented itself.’
    ‘And would you and Davey being together be the right opportunity?’
    Jeepers, thought Steffie as the words left her mouth, I’m as bad as the aunts trying to find out if one of us wants to get married. I’d better cut back on the fizz before I say something I’ll really regret. But Camilla didn’t seem to be offended by the question. She smiled and said it was possible but that she didn’t know what the future held.
    ‘He’s a good guy, my brother,’ said Steffie.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘A touch drifty, maybe,’ Steffie continued. ‘More like me than Roisin.’
    ‘Drifty?’
    ‘Roisin is the organised one in our family,’