WHEN CLARA FINALLY arrives, she is not only half an hour late, she has also brought her dog with her. It leaps from the car, Clara only just managing to hold onto the lead as she uses the strength in her arms to get herself out, her scarves catching in the door as she shuts it behind her.

‘Fuck it,’ Sinead mutters as she and her daughter wave hello from the front steps of their house. ‘I told her not to bring that animal.’