‘I did explain that the main reason you didn’t want Keelin home was the finger-pointing and gossip she’d have to endure,’ Larry said coolly. He knew of old that when Imelda was feeling guilty she either went on the defensive or put on the ‘doleful me’ act.

‘Well, that’s the truth,’ she retorted.

‘Part of the truth, Imelda. Be honest. You’re ashamed of our daughter. But let me tell you, she’s a great girl and I’ll be helping her out financially.’

‘That’s fine with me,’ Imelda muttered. It wasn’t only shame she felt about Keelin, it was disappointment. Huge disappointment for her. Her daughter had been living a life she would have given anything to experience. A life of freedom in Dublin. Sharing a flat and having a great social life and, the icing on the cake, foreign holidays with her friends. And most importantly of all, being financially independent.

It was the throwing away of all of that, so carelessly and unthinkingly, that wounded Imelda. She’d been so proud of Keelin. Her daughter was a liberated woman. It was unfathomable to Imelda that she’d given it all up to join an organization that was stuck in the Middle Ages, keeping women firmly in their place.

And now Keelin was even more trapped. Penniless, pregnant and soon to be an unmarried mother in a society that had little sympathy for women in that situation. Could she not have used protection, if she was going to have sex? It was easy now for women to prevent pregnancy. How could she have been so stupid and foolish to turn her back on such privileges? She’d had it all – and she’d taken it for granted.

Let her stay in the Four Winds with Saint Brigid, Imelda thought bitterly. It was what she deserved.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

‘Oh God! My waters have broken, Una, and I’m getting terrible cramps,’ Keelin gasped, puffing and panting her way into the kitchen, where Una was peeling spuds for the dinner. ‘Am I in labour? The baby’s not due for another three weeks.’

‘Oh Jesus, Mary and Holy Sweet Saint Joseph,’ Una exclaimed in dismay, assisting Keelin to a chair. ‘I’ll call Maura and tell her to ring Doctor McCormack. Or should we drive you to the hospital? It’s a long enough journey in case anything happens on the way.’ Una went to the kitchen door and yelled for her sister, who was upstairs changing beds. There had been a lot of nuns staying the previous week, but thankfully there was a lull in the big house.

‘What’s going on? Why are you yelling at poor Maura?’ Sister Marie-Hélène limped into the kitchen on her crutches. She was recovering from a car accident, spending the summer in the Four Winds to recuperate and write her thesis.

‘Marie-Hélène, Keelin’s waters broke and we think she’s in—’