The Women at Ocean's End

Sisters’ Promise

On The First Day Of Christmas

Constance Macken wiped her nose with the back of her hand; her hanky was nowhere to be found and she wasn’t going back onto the street to look for it. She’d had enough of Mickey Kane calling her names and making fun of her in front of the others. The girl with no da. Her mother called him the original invisible man. ‘One minute he’d been promising me the earth, moon and stars and then quicker than you could say a baby Guinness and a chaser in the local pub, he’d hightailed it off to Dublin with the barmaid.’ That wasn’t much use to Constance, she could hardly go telling the other children that her father had run away and left them. She could scarcely admit it to Dotty, never mind anyone else.

The girl with no da. That’s what they called her, but since news of her mother’s good fortune was in the paper, it had become much worse. ‘They’re only jealous, you know that yourself,’ her best friend Dotty said, but even if she was right, and Constance doubted it, that still didn’t make things any easier.

Constance was small for her age, tiny, in fact; an easy target. At twelve years, she was still waiting to sprout up, but it felt less likely with every passing day as everyone in her class at school shot up around her. Her mother said she was like a little sparrow, not like her best friend. They were the same age and already Dotty Wren had developed curves and stood taller than any of the boys their age. Constance sighed now. Her mother talked about going away, leaving Galway altogether, and maybe that would be for the best. She’d miss Dotty though – for all she’d be glad to leave behind in this grotty little street, she’d miss Dotty Wren.

‘There she is, boys.’ Mickey Kane’s thin voice cut through the hedges opposite. They must have slipped over the low wall at the side of Mr Wren’s garage. They wouldn’t dare come into Constance’s garden, would they? ‘Want it back? You’ll have to come and get it, Constance.’ Mickey’s hand protruded through the thick privet, waving her handkerchief over and back like a sail swaying on the high seas.

‘Give that here.’ Constance shot to her feet. She was within grasping distance of the hedge when she remembered herself. The last time they caught her, they’d held her down and forced a worm into her mouth. She still remembered the taste, the feeling of it slithering about on her tongue; she’d almost choked through tears and trying to keep it from the back of her throat. In the end, to catch her breath, she’d had to swallow it. The humiliation of it was unbearable; even now, it was like a sharp whack against her gut, doubling her up in its unexpected intensity. If she allowed it to play out in her mind, she could almost be back there lying on the pavement, holding her breath until it felt as if she was going to drown under the weight of them. Their laughter had jeered

irst published in the UK in 2025 by Head of Zeus, part of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

Copyright © Faith Hogan, 2025

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This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN (HB): 9781035906529

ISBN (XTPB): 9781035906512

ISBN (E): 9781035906505

Cover design: Leah Jacobs-Gordon

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My Husband’s Wives

Secrets We Keep

The Girl I Used To Know

The Place We Call Home

What Happened To Us?

The Ladies’ Midnight Swimming Club

The Gin Sisters’ Promise

On The First Day Of Christmas

The Guest House By The Sea

The Bookshop Ladies

been a haven, not just for

Pin Hill Island had always

By the time night came in, she had fallen asleep as much from giving up as exhaustion or fear.

beyond a mere whisper. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.

the air above her head for the rope she’d clung to earlier, maybe she could climb back up again? It was no good. It was not there, it must have ended somewhere above her reach. There was only one thing for it. They would have to find her, maybe just like she’d found that kitten, maybe someone near the fence at the right time would hear her call. And so she began to call out, her voice quickly ascending to a frightened scream which only fed her terror. In the end, her voice grew hoarse and her sobs overtook her calls for help. She was lost down here in the darkness and soon even the slim shaft of light that penetrated from so far over her head began to fade.

she could, clinging to the narrowing shaft of daylight as if it could save her from what was clearly unavoidable. She wanted to scream – tried hard to call out for help – but her voice caught somewhere in her throat, her breath halted in her lungs, she was beyond making a sound, too petrified to do much more than hang on.