It was, at best, another non-answer; and a shock to Lowri that she was as displeased with the answer as she was. She expected of herself to have more patience when it came to her children’s evasion tactics. Instead, she was getting restless wondering how long Don Juan would keep this up. Sighing to herself, she stabbed the embroidery work once more before pulling the thread a little too taught. I told Eamon that naming our child Don Juan was going to end up biting us in the arse, she stewed to herself. Determined as ever to get her son to reveal the details he’d left out of his question, she settled upon a different tactic.

“I quite agree,” She said, before taking a breath. “In fact you know that is exactly what your father said to me once, I believe it was on our honeymoon, or perhaps when I was pregnant with you; or was that before? You know I do believe that you might have actually been conceived in one of the most breathtaking Spanish churches that I’d ever seen? Then, of course perhaps the view might have been improved by the fact that you father and I were otherwise occupied.” It might have been when they snuck off together, parting from their tour group to go and admire the arch work.

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