As the Protestant-Irish emerge from the postwar years, the refuse to face the inevitable: They have beautiful old houses, but can scarcely afford to heat them; eat meals on exquisitely set tables, while the roof leaks; and talk very seriously about the importance of making suitable marriages.When Molly flees the genteel poverty of Ireland for London of the 1960s, she must balance the allure of the new against the romance of a world that no longer exists.

    As an estate lawyer, an unfortunate part of her day-to-day is phone calls from the next of kin informing her that one of her clients has died. But nothing could have prepared Ana for the call from Rebecca Taylor, explaining in a strangely calm tone that her husband Connor was killed in an accident. Ana had been having an affair with Connor for three years, keeping their love secret in hotel rooms, weekends away, and swiftly deleted text messages. Though consuming, they hide their love well, and nobody knows of their relationship except Mark, Connor's best friend. Alone and undone, Ana seeks friendship with the person who she once thought of as her adversary and opposite, but who is now the only one who shares her pain -- Rebecca. As Ana becomes closer to her lover's widow, she is forced to reconcile painful truths about the affair, and the fickleness of love and desire. Funny, frank, and strange, Sarah Crossan's moving novel is wholly original and deeply resonant.