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have the money to do that anymore.’
    ‘Ah, Nicki…’ said Harry. ‘Something’s gone wrong with your skirt.’
    Nicki looked down to see that the top had come apart from her skirt
    ‘Can you crop it out of the shot?’ she asked hopefully.
    ‘It looks better as a long shot,’ he said definitely.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nicki to Imelda. ‘But you don’t by any chance have a safety pin or anything?’
    ‘Sure,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Come on through.’
    They went into the kitchen.
    ‘That is some ragged seam,’ said Imelda, rooting around in her kitchen cabinets.
    ‘I know,’ said Nicki. ‘But you’ve been told I’m sure: I’m up against Alva for this new job. You’ve seen her already, she’s always dressed amazingly. Unfortunately you have to look the part, and it’s hard to compete with that.’
    ‘So you sewed your own clothes? With that little talent?’ asked Imelda. Her voice was matter of fact, there was no nastiness intended.
    Nicki just shrugged. ‘I’m a single parent and this job has a pay rise we could really do with. I’d do the interview in a Basque and suspenders if I thought that it would do the job.’
    ‘I’m a single parent too,’ said Imelda. ‘Colin’s dad didn’t stick around long after the diagnosis – he wanted a son he could play football with and take hiking. Once that was gone, well…’
    ‘God, that’s so tough,’ said Nicki sympathetically. ‘I mean I find it hard enough, and my child doesn’t have the kind of needs that Colin has. On the bright side, if he was really that spineless, then it wouldn’t be good to have that kind of influence around your child.’
    ‘That’s true,’ said Imelda pinning up the hem. ‘That’s the way I’ve always tried to look at it, though I can’t deny that sometimes it can be logistically difficult.’
    ‘It’s not having anybody else to talk to about it that’s so hard,’ said Nicki sadly. ‘You know, having a cup of coffee with someone in the evening and thrashing out things about your child. You can talk it over with friends and family, and that’s great, but they don’t have the same responsibility for it that a parent does. Being a parent is scary stuff, even more so when you’re a single parent, because the buck stops with you alone.’
    ‘That’s exactly it,’ says Imelda, narrowing her eyes. ‘You’re not like that other woman.’
    ‘I know,’ sighed Nicki. ‘She’s on a fast track to big and better things in television. Our producer reckons she’ll end up fronting a national primetime show eventually.’
    ‘So she wants to use it as a stepping stone?’ asked Imelda.
    ‘Exactly. Maybe I’ll get the job when she moves on.’
    ‘You seem fairly sure that you’re not going to get it.’
    ‘I’m not really television material. I went for the researcher’s job because I love journalism, and I love people . I like finding out how people live their lives – I guess that’s a nice way of saying I’m nosy – and the difficulties that everyday people face. I also like getting the chance to expose some of the injustices in Ireland that don’t get wider coverage. At the moment I’m a junior researcher, but if I got this promotion I’d be doing this kind of stuff every day.’
    ‘Sure, and maybe then you could advance.’
    Nicki shrugged. ‘Maybe. But to be completely honest, if I could have a job that would let me provide for my daughter and do something I love that would be more than enough for me.’
    Imelda nodded, and looked at her appraisingly. ‘You know, I’ve changed my mind. I think it’s time that you met Colin.’
     
    ‘You look a million dollars,’ said Sorcha as she provided the finishing touches to her make-up.
    ‘Do you really think so?’ asked Nicki, doubtfully. She was wearing her charity shop find dress – she’d stuck the hem up by robbing some of Sorcha’s tit tape, there was no way she was risking another sewing related mishap – and a pair of