‘Sure, if you didn’t laugh you’d cry,’ Imelda said drily, but Keelin could see that her mother was pleased and had begun to relax.

The afternoon passed in a blur of anecdotes and reminiscences, and Keelin sat, fascinated, listening to her aunt talk about sleeping in wattle and bamboo huts, and eating with leaves as your plates, and using your fingers instead of knives and forks, and of plucking bananas and mangoes off trees to eat. Her brothers wanted to know if there were crocodiles, and their aunt told them that, yes, there were, and they lived in mangrove swamps and river basins, and she had seen them when she was in a boat going to the villages upriver. She’d shown some photos of the white house with the long veranda where she lived. And photos of people in exotic, colourful clothes. A picture of a man riding a scooter and carrying a baby goat on his shoulders, two children in front and a big bundle on his head.

She told them about the dust blowing in from the Sahara, when they would have to wear scarves, and Keelin longed to be there in that exciting world.

‘I think I’d like to be a nun, and work in Africa,’ she exclaimed, fired by her aunt’s altruism and nobility of spirit.

Imelda did a double take and said firmly, ‘You can forget that nonsense, Keelin. It’s a whim. I never heard you show any inclination towards the religious life. You’ll finish your Leaving Certificate and do your teacher training,’ she told her daughter in a tone that brooked no argument.

Brigid, sensing the tension, said calmly, ‘This is not a life you rush into, pet. It’s very different now, since Vatican Two, than when I joined. Do as your mother suggests. Finish your exams. Train for something. Live life to the full. I’m not in favour of young girls entering before they’ve had a chance to experience things. It can lead to great unhappiness. And besides, there are no guarantees that you would be sent on the Missions. You could be placed in a convent in Ireland, or France. It’s up to the Mother General where nuns are sent. Once you enter, you take a vow of obedience and give up free will.’

‘It’s good to hear you talk a bit of sense to this one,’ Imelda said grudgingly.

‘But, Mam, I think I’d like—’

‘Enough.’ Her mother raised a hand and Keelin seethed inwardly. How dare her mother make a show of her, and dismiss her feelings as a whim! If she wanted to become a nun, a nun she would become, Keelin decided there and then.