Which struck Lucy as a bit of a ridiculous thing for Vicky to say, since her mam could barely rouse herself enough to get off the sofa, much less start ferreting around in her daughter’s sex life. No, the truth was much simpler: she just hadn’t got around to it. That and the business of being brought up Catholic. And the ‘fact’ – if fact it was, and Lucy’s doctor had said it wasn’t anything like a given – that if you went on the pill you immediately put a stone on, and might get a thrombosis as well.
But it was that stone – that was the main thing. Lucy knew how Paddy’s mind worked. He monitored Vicky’s size like it was a project he was micro-managing. If she put on so much as an ounce he’d be on at her that she was letting herself go.
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