Page 150 of Good Sisters

She shook her head. ‘I can’t, Sophie … I just can’t. I’vemade my decision. Jack can have full custody. I’ll visit, but I’m not made to be a mum. I’m sorry.’

She walked away from me and from her son. I was now officially going to be a full-time stepmum to a broken-hearted little boy.

36. Julie

The boys stood in their school blazers, arms around each other as I took a photo. They looked so handsome and grown-up. Where had my three tearaways gone? I was looking at three almost-sixteen-year-olds. They were all much taller than me and had developed broad shoulders from training.

‘I’m so proud of you.’ My voice shook.

‘Oh, Mum, don’t start crying,’ Luke said.

‘It’s supposed to be a happy day,’ Liam reminded me.

‘We need to go.’ Leo was the most nervous.

Harry came into the hall and handed the boys three Tupperware boxes. ‘Your protein snacks.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘Now remember, Rockford Manor are very strong upfront. Don’t let them boss you around in the scrum.’

The triplets grinned. ‘It’s okay, Dad, we’ve got this. Coach has told us what we need to do.’

Harry nodded. ‘Right, then. Let’s get you into school.’

‘Wait!’ Christelle and Kelly came up from the basement in their pyjamas, still jet-lagged from their South American trip. ‘Good luck from us.’ They handed the boys bead bracelets. ‘They’re made with huayruro seeds from our trip to Peru and are believed to bring positive energy, love, happiness, and good fortune to the person who wears them,’ Christelle said.

The boys looked at the red and black beads and reluctantly put them on.

Christelle laughed. ‘You don’t have to wear them, just put them in your kitbags for luck.’

‘Okay.’ They looked relieved and stuffed them into their bags.

‘We’ll be there to cheer you on,’ Christelle said. ‘Good luck.’

They piled into the car, Tom following in their wake, as always, and Harry drove them to school.

We sat together: Harry, me, Marion, Gavin (and Lemon), Dad, Louise, Sophie, Jess, Jack, Robert, Christelle, Kelly and Clara with her headphones on.

Marion pulled off her hat and scratched her head.

‘Sorry, but these are the worst fucking hats ever. Did the sheep have nits? They’re the itchiest things. I’d take out a loan and pay for Victoria’s posh cashmere not to have to suffer these needles on my head.’

‘They’re made of Irish wool, the same wool that Aran sweaters are made of. Bespoke, hand-knitted by the local community.’ Sophie was still defensive about her sourcing of the hats.

‘No wonder they’re awful, Aran sweaters are itchy as fuck. Only bog-men wear them. I’d say Seamus has a few in his wardrobe.’

Sophie glared at Marion, while Jess giggled.

‘Can we please focus on the match?’ Dad said.

‘How’s single life, George?’ Marion asked.

‘Oh, he’s not single,’ Gavin said. ‘He’s already got a new bird. I caught them having coffee yesterday when I called in.’

‘Pat is not a newbird. She is a friend who called over for a cup of coffee.’

‘Pat O’Loughlin from the golf club?’ Sophie asked.

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