Keelin was kept busy and that suited her and the months passed and still there was no sign of her being recalled to Nigeria. But Keelin guessed, reading between the lines of her aunt’s occasional letters, that she, too, was struggling with her vocation.

*

It was one Friday afternoon months later, and Keelin was sitting in the shade of the veranda, surrounded by her young charges. This was their favourite day of the week because after lunch there was no more schoolwork. It was a time she’d set aside for a chat about the events of the previous week, followed by Keelin reading aloud to her pupils.

They were discussing their aspirations for adulthood with great vigour and enthusiasm, and Keelin was about to end the chat and begin her story-reading when she saw the new priest, Father Durand, striding across the compound, his surplice flapping in the breeze that blew in from the sea.

He waved at the children and they waved back. They loved this new young priest who had come to assist the convent’s chaplain, Monsignor Kelly, who had developed heart trouble. Father Durand often played football with the children and drew cartoon characters on the board when he was teaching a religion class. There was something about the earnest, kind man in his thirties that she was drawn to. He’d suggested they set up a folk group for the teenagers who came to Mass and she’d eagerly agreed.

It was a joyful collaboration. The young people loved singing and Father Durand played the guitar while she conducted their lively group. They had rehearsals on Saturday evenings, and a few of the indigenous nuns came and played some of their traditional music, and there was a lot of laughter and banter that Keelin found very enjoyable.

‘Soeur, Soeur!’ One of her young pupils was grabbing her arm to gain her attention. ‘Yes, Sisal.’ She smiled at him. The boy was one of her brightest pupils.

‘I’m going to be an astronaut!’

‘That’s marvellous, Sisal,’ she congratulated him. He beamed proudly.

Miriam, a feisty little Serer girl, turned to her and declared enthusiastically, ‘I’m going to be a priest like Father Durand.’ Her classmates broke into howls of laughter.

‘Don be so silly, Miriam. You can’t be a priest, you’re a girl!’ Sisal jeered.

Outraged at being sneered at, and taken aback by his response, Miriam turned to Keelin, fixing her huge brown eyes on her confidently, ‘I can be a priest, can’t I, Soeur Michael?’

Keelin’s heart sank as she gazed into the little girl’s eyes and saw the hope and belief shining through.

‘I’m sorry, chérie,’ she murmured. ‘It’s not possible for a girl to become a priest.’

‘Only men are priests,’ interrupted Sisal triumphantly.

‘But why, Soeur Michael? Why?’ demanded Miriam, shocked.