Among the crowd in the packed public gallery was one woman, elegantly made-up and dressed in black with a gold necklace.

From the moment the Taoiseach began his speech, she wept almost without stop.

She nodded in recognition as he spoke of “the women who feel mutilated inside, who feel they have robbed their partner out of the possibility of having a child. A future stolen from them”.

Afterwards, she quietly revealed she was one of the women at the centre of the CervicalCheck scandal but had chosen not to come forward publicly with her story. Her health had recovered, she said, but the disease had affected her ability to have a much longed for third child.

This apology had meant a lot, she said. The day had been “extremely emotional”, she said, explaining: “It brings it all back.”

The Taoiseach had spent some weeks writing his formal State apology to the women and families at the centre of the CervicalCheck scandal.

Last month, he scheduled two hours to sit down with them and hear their stories. He ended up staying for four and “nobody felt rushed”, according to campaigner Stephen Teap, who lost his wife Irene to cervical cancer.

Leo Varadkar’s speech writer came with him to that meeting, according to one of the women who was there.

But she was positive that it was Leo’s own input in listening to the women’s stories that rang true in his speech to the Dáil.

“He wouldn’t have been able to give that speech if he hadn’t listened,” she said.

The apology was due to be given at 3pm and shortly after 2.30pm the public gallery steadily began to fill. A special seat near the door was provided for one woman who drank water from a bottle.

There were people of all ages there. Older couples who sat holding hands.

Most poignant of all, perhaps, were the young people among the crowd – two young men in their late teens who each came in with other family members. Two young women, also in their late teens or early 20s, sat taking painstaking notes throughout.

What stood out above all, though, was how many women were among the crowd.

They were in stark contrast with how many men were below, in the Dáil chamber.

These were women whose lives have been upended. Who thought they were protecting themselves and their families by getting dutiful health checks – only to be catastrophically let down by the system.

Other women who, though unaffected themselves, had lost a sister, a daughter or a friend.

Women whose faces were all universally etched with grief.

At 10 minutes to three, Vicky Phelan came into the gallery with Stephen Teap and Lorraine Walsh, who had survived cervical cancer but whose chance to have a family was ended. Exchanging hugs and greetings with many who had already arrived, they sat down quietly in the front row and waited.

They were just in time for an unseemly squabble over voting procedures on the runaway costs of the National Children’s Hospital.

At 3.15pm, Micheál Martin began to discuss the delayed bill for assisted reproduction when Mr Varadkar reminded the Ceann Comhairle that they were due to have started the State apology at 3pm and that people in the gallery were waiting.

Quickly and somewhat shame-faced, they agreed they should go straight to that.

As the Taoiseach arose to speak, it seemed unfortunate timing that a former health minister, Michael Noonan, elected to leave the chamber, as we suddenly recalled that he, too, had been at the centre of another health scandal that had led to prolonged litigation. But several other TDs also left at various points of Leo’s speech in apparent indifference to the importance of this occasion.

Some might think a State apology to be a mere formality – but to the women and families directly affected by this tragedy, it was much, much more than that.

Here, finally, was vindication. A recognition they were not to be silenced any more.

Up in the gallery, some of the couples were holding hands, almost bracing themselves for the emotional impact of what was to come.

And while our ears listened to the words of the Taoiseach, our eyes were trained on these people and their profound reaction to what he was saying.

“Today’s apology is too late for some who were affected. For others, it will never be enough,” he said.

He spoke devastatingly of “a broken service, broken promises, broken lives – a debacle that left a country heartbroken. A system that was doomed to fail”.

Tissues were passed around the public gallery.

“To all those grieving for what has been taken from them. The happy days that will never be,” the Taoiseach said.

Afterwards, in one poignant body, they left Leinster House – bypassing the steel barricade that seemed symbolic of all the obstacles they have encountered throughout this debacle.

Central to the revelations that had led to this point, Vicky Phelan was radiant. But there was a lot more work to do, she said.

Lorraine Walsh read a statement on behalf of the 221+ patient group, describing the apology to be “central to the process of healing and of rebuilding our lives, and the lives of those who love, support and care for us”.

But more important than the words ‘I’m sorry’, explained Stephen Teap, was the acknowledgement of mistakes of the past.

“‘I’m sorry’ won’t change anything in my house when I go home tonight,” he said.

And while change was happening in the system, it was far too slow, he warned.

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