‘Very well. You may use my phone. I will provide Mère Brigid’s number for you, or do you have it?’

‘No, Mère,’ Keelin said.

‘Dial zero for the receptionist and ask her to put you through.’ She flicked through a Rolodex on her desk and wrote the number on a notelet.

‘I’d like to speak to my relatives privately,’ Keelin said politely.

‘Ten minutes,’ Perpetua instructed, sweeping out of the room.

Keelin swallowed hard when she finally heard her aunt’s voice on the crackly line. ‘Auntie Brigid, Mère, it’s me, Keelin. I’ve something to tell you: I’m pregnant.’

‘Oh Lord, Keelin.’ Brigid couldn’t hide her shock. ‘You weren’t raped, dear, were you?’ The dismay and anxiety in her aunt’s voice almost brought Keelin to tears.

‘No, Mère. Nothing like that. It was consensual. With a man I love and who loves me,’ she assured her aunt.

‘Well, that is something to be thankful for, I suppose. Who is this man, may I ask?

‘His name is Armand. He’s—’ now that she had to tell her aunt she found it awkward – ‘he’s a priest,’ she murmured.

‘A priest!’ Keelin cringed at the shock and dismay in her aunt’s voice. ‘He’ll never leave for you. I know that. I’ve seen it too often out there,’ Brigid exclaimed.

‘He was going to leave anyway, before he met me,’ Keelin said, almost in tears.

‘Ah, they all say that,’ Brigid sighed. ‘Have you told Germaine?’

‘Oh yes, she knows. I’m actually in Paris – she got rid of me the moment she heard,’ Keelin said bitterly. ‘And the Mother General has said I can’t stay here or in any convent. She’s sending me to a mother-and-baby home in Cork, and she told me the family have to take responsibility for me. I can imagine Mam’s reaction to that!’ she said despondently.

‘You are not going to any mother-and-child home, Keelin, I can tell you that right now,’ Brigid said grimly. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll ring Perpetua myself. I’ll phone you back, dear,’ she assured her niece.

‘Can you give it ten minutes? I’m in her office. I’ve to ring Mam and tell her. I wanted to ring you first. I’ll ring you back when I’ve spoken to her.’

‘Keelin, I hate to say this, but be prepared for your mother’s wrath. I don’t think Imelda will take your news well,’ Brigid said matter-of-factly. ‘And perhaps don’t tell her yet that the baby’s father is a priest. She has a dislike of them.’

‘I know that. It will be bad enough telling her I’m pregnant – then again, she might surprise us . . .’ Keelin said hesitantly.

‘She might indeed,’ Brigid replied with false optimism. ‘I’ll talk to you after you’ve spoken to Imelda.’